Tag: Poetry

Weaving a basket of generosity

 

Weaving a basket of generosity

in which we waken

to promise

to harmony

of no harm

 

_____

A poem caught while meeting with colleagues as we support a city embarking on a visioning process for a city and a surrounding First Nation. The above is the work we are sensing into.

 

Soul hungers

 

Two weeks ago today I emerged from the wilderness after two days and two nights alone, on a vision quest in the Cascade Mountains of Washington.

At the end of my fast, I was reflecting on a passage by John O’Donohue, where he invites the reader to “Listen to the voices of longing in your soul. Listen to your hungers.”

I wrote this in my sketchbook:

day 2 of vision quest. late afternoon, early evening o’clock. 6 meals missed. this is an interesting time to think of hunger because I am really hungry. 

 _____

As part of the process to prepare for the vision quest, I went for a walk in Elk Island National Park, Canada’s first wildlife sanctuary, and now home to North America’s largest land mammal – the bison.

They welcomed me to the trail head.

Bison welcom

They surrounded me while I paused midday for a snack.

Bison at lunch

They shared their land with me. And as I followed one of their trails off the official trail, I came upon a green, glass bottle.

the bottle - medium

These bison are here because of a series of human interventions. Humans created this sanctuary, a sanctuary needed because of human activity. But in the middle of this natural area the bottle was out of place. I know nothing of its story, of how long it has been here, or who left it. The only thing it could tell me was that was made in Canada (this was imprinted on the bottom).

I picked it up, initially because I felt a need to carry out any garbage I found. As I carried it around with all my own questions about the bottle, I wondered what questions the bottle might have for me.

We walked together and we sat together.

the bottle in the field

And eventually, a couple weeks later and just before leaving for the vision quest, it asked me this:

For what are you a vessel? 

_____

On that last night in my tent, hungry, the beginnings of an “answer” came.

Today is tuesday
on the Sacred Mountain
which means I notice
what I’m really hungry for
i have shelter
i am warm enough
my thirst is quenched
 
my hunger is 
for my soul to be seen
by me
for my soul to be seen
by others
for my soul to be seen
by this place
 
to see Me
to see Others
to see my Place
 
I am hungry for Me
 
here I am.
 
 
 

 

Let the pollen dust you

 

Let the pollen dust you

 

Don’t let incorporation fly away

let the pollen dust you, every day

with spouses, children, singing

singing full of gratitude

of land, of holding this way

deep in your heart, returning

celebrating home and her guides

her 108 ways of making space

in the extraordinary endless gifts

of life, hosted by nature

nurtured grief, receiving

the work of real people

flowing with Earth, as we ask

with purity of heart, with life

showing sacred life in life

overflowing, spirit guiding

growing the honour of listening

to readiness inherited

known and unknown

as we reach out for Earth

to do most of the work

 

what kind of tribe has no place?

 

the wanderers with stars in their eyes

and full hearts

 

the grouse dancer

the spirit leader

the irreverent ukulele lady

the nest maker

the deeply rooted

the cosmic life force

the freedom climber

the star traveler

the courageous heart of the sun saluter

the journeying medicine man

the spirit steward, of this land

 

 

** Caught at the closing circle, Cascadia Quest 2014

 

 

The gifts

 

Don’t forget the invisible

love in the fire

for sacred work

connecting roots

rooted, deep

together in joy

 

Don’t forget the invisible

energy that heals

a global family

trusting play

and the delight

in life

 

Don’t forget the invisible

unexpected resolve

to energize

to carry

to move

and be still

 

Don’t forget the gifts

of belief

in the big

break through

of collective intelligence

in circle

 

_____

Poem caught in the closing circle of the Second Fire gathering of the Circle Way, at Marsh House, Whidbey Island, May 3, 2014.

 

 

I said yes

 

I said yes to an invitation

to being

a pioneer, a tributary

sitting, in ambiguity and uncertainty

to build

to give

to never leave, here

the moment, the lineage

the flow of the river

circling, wanting us now

to serve

by yearning

purposefully, carrying,

prototyping, feeling,

feeding, fielding

the field

 

_____

Poem caught in the opening circle of the Second Fire gathering of the Circle Way, at Marsh House, Whidbey Island, April 30, 2014.

 

 

Patience to care

 

The promise of light in February is to begin

spring sooner than later

for new beginnings

for noticing early signs of brightness

for moving

for inspiration

for seeking

to care

 

yet to care is also patience

for  profound capacity

to become apparent

a profound capacity to care, aware

that I choose to accept

that I choose to receive

that I choose

to wait

 

care means conflict and impatience too

assuming all will be well because it will

with joy and pain and time

I patiently offer my care

knowing

patience is not a blind eye

if it is a choice to declare what I need

when I ask I can receive

when I ask I can receive

when open to surprise the patience to care comes

it touches, it beacons, it enjoys, it lights

the whole

sky

 

_____ _____ _____

This poem was caught last week during a gathering of my local community of practice.

 

 

What I heard Paul Bedford say

 

Everything is connected to everything

so learn to suffer

and choose to grow

choose how to grow

choose to explore consequences

for you

and us

take risks

forget floating

choose to swim.

 

_____ _____ _____

This what I heard Paul Bedford, former Chief Planner for the City of Toronto say at the Canadian Institute of Planners Conference this weekend.

Disaster blows the blinders off

 

Some colleagues and I spent the afternoon exploring resilience in the face of disaster. We noticed that disaster takes place an many scales – the heart attack the demands a new normal in an individual, or a tsunami or fire that rips through a whole city or country. Whenever this happens, we somehow bounce back, stronger and more connected with each other.

Here’s a poem caught as we began our conversation today:

 

Disaster blows the blinders off

my place

my body

then a practice grows

touching stories

mine and others

of strength

of energy

of smiling

on a journey of

witnessing

 

_____ _____ _____

Yet another transition

 

A couple weeks ago, some colleagues and I gathering to begin a conversation about how we could work together around resilience and adaptability in our lives and communities. Here’s a poem that surfaced as a result of that conversation:

 

Yet another transition 

another fucking transition

an end for a beginning

where kin matter

where the  story you carry matters

because it shapes how you show

your self

so who are you shadow boxing?

yes, its scary to pay attention

to what’s happening now

to flick the switch on

alone or together

and to have the future we want

the light must be on

let’s take turns waking up

to sustain awakeness

 

______ ______ _____

Who can we be?

 

Who can we be?

 

What is separate need not be,

For the Divine is personal.

There’s enough love, and enough room

For all of it. A falling away

Of illusions because there’s no going back.

With profound creativity, we palpably,

Steadfastly, safely, prepare for transition

To another life, another work, gestating.

Who can we be if I let go

Of what I think we should be?*

Who can I be if I let go

Of what I think I should be?

 

* A question of Chris Corrigan’s that has been alive in me for a while…

_____ _____ _____

This poem is a harvest from this afternoon’s checkin with my Integral City colleagues.