Holding

and so it was because I was filled with a particular heavy sadness that I prayed for a golden moment last night. A golden moment, meaning a moment that would directly remind me that there is still beauty in this world filled with sorrows. and it was as i was leaving a pre-school today, dog-tired weary and weighted that I decided to look back. One of the children, a very sweet three-year old boy stood at the window watching me and waving. As I waved in return, he held up his little hand to his mouth and with the gentlest release, blew me a kiss. He continued this simple, loving, and perfect gesture until I was well down the driveway and turning the corner. It is the love in the action that surpasses all language.Thank you friends.

Happy New Year

To all the kin, wherever you are-
May this year bring you countless moments of joy and ease.
Thank you for your love and support.

Morning Poem

Every morning
the world
is created.
Under the orange

sticks of the sun
the heaped
ashes of the night
turn into leaves again

and fasten themselves to the high branches ---
and the ponds appear
like black cloth
on which are painted islands

of summer lilies.
If it is your nature
to be happy
you will swim away along the soft trails

for hours, your imagination
alighting everywhere.
And if your spirit
carries within it

the thorn
that is heavier than lead ---
if it's all you can do
to keep on trudging ---

there is still
somewhere deep within you
a beast shouting that the earth
is exactly what it wanted ---

each pond with its blazing lilies
is a prayer heard and answered
lavishly,
every morning,

whether or not
you have ever dared to be happy,
whether or not
you have ever dared to pray.


~ Mary Oliver ~

A world in a blade of grass

Today, outside of the house, my father's old truck is parked. It's a dark forest green Toyota pick-up truck. The tool racks and cabinets that he installed are still there. The fiberglass covered piece of wood that he placed in the bottom of the truck bed has deteriorated yet remains. This used to be my dad's work truck. He was a gardener and a landscape contractor in Santa Cruz, CA. After he died, the truck was sold to the parents of my dear friend Mark. It has been with them in Fresno,CA for seven years, give or take a few months. Two days ago Mark drove the truck from Fresno up to Portland,OR as he is borrowing it to move. He parked it in front of the house I now live in and graciously handed me the key so that I might drive it for a few days.
I look at this truck.
....I think of the many miles of road this truck has felt beneath its tires. I think of the dirt that encases it. Could there still be soil from Santa Cruz? From home? Just a small nugget clinging like an obstinate barnacle to the front license plate? It doesn't rain too often in Fresno so...hmmmm anythings possible right.
Is it true that I smell just a hint of fertilizer still wrapped in between the fibers of the seat covers...
...I think of the people that have driven this truck. What have their eyes seen? Did they listen to the radio or did they choose to listen in silence? Have there been tears shed in this truck? Have children played in this truck? How many beverages have been spilled in this truck? I try and look for traces.
...I think to myself, to my dad, " Hey, your car has had so many adventures since you've gone!" Then I think,.."that was a dumb thing to think....."
...I sat in the car today, in the drivers seat, and I thought of all that is silently shared between us and all that remains unknown or unspoken.
To my questions that will remain unanswered, I say,"I know."
There are little bits of dirt that have accumulated in the truck bed.In this dirt, miniature clumps of emerald green plant life has made a home for itself. I wonder if my father would like this..but then it occurs to me... little bunches of earth and plants in the bed of a gardener's truck!! It's so beautiful to me that I have to laugh.

Tell Me Why

Sailing heart-ships
thru broken harbors
Out on the waves in the night
Still the searcher
must ride the dark horse
Racing alone in his fright.
Tell me why, tell me why

Is it hard to make
arrangements with yourself,
When you're old enough to repay
but young enough to sell?

Tell me lies later,
come and see me
I'll be around for a while.
I am lonely but you can free me
All in the way that you smile
Tell me why, tell me why

Is it hard to make
arrangements with yourself,
When you're old enough to repay
but young enough to sell?

Tell me why, tell me why
Tell me why, tell me why

"Harmony"

We Make a Fuss

alike and no different
and such as
tawdry vultures

We ready ourselves with
inherently sufficient devices

Meanwhile
the idol
sun
blackens our darkness
and we move our faces away from
gentle shadows

Ah,
no wonder the resistance
no wonder the separation
and it is but a ripple
between
your seat and mine

A small thing and a grave loss

Were that we could embrace a little of both?
the dark and the light
just a little, just for now

a decent call to coalesce

would that the raven and the dove might hold one another upright
with kind regard