I sit on a wooden bench
at water’s edge, face lifting,
sun warming, Luna exploring,
pond shrinking, drought continuing.
Noticing new growth now exposed
to the light, sounds coming and
fading, the humming of a machine,
loud roaring of an unmuffled car,
Luna panting, twigs snapping,
dragon fly buzzing.
I sit in stillness and
feel a rush of gratitude
for this place, this moment,
this body, this bench, this dog.
Waves go in, waves go out,
Sea gulls fly over,
Clouds heap up like meringue,
Children laugh and adults smile.
Luna sniffs her way along water’s edge,
Timid at first, then a bit braver.
So many new sights and smells,
So much gratitude for what this world offers.
And yet somewhere, someone
Is thinking about shooting innocents
to satisfy a growing loneliness,
a burning hatred of all who differ.
Leaders across the globe heap blame,
never taking accountability for what
their ugly words might awaken
in the dark depth of their followers.
And yet, a woman sees a flyer in Starbucks
That inspires her to give
A kidney to a stranger.
Waves go in, waves go out.
Waves go in, waves go out.
This is not the world I wanted
for my offspring,
my grandchildren.
A world where mass
shootings have become the norm and
hatred is spewed
by tweets on a
daily basis.
Where are the leaders whose choices
are not ruled by
money, hubris?
Please step forward.
A wounded tree on the bank’s edge
leans precariously,
seems ready to fall.
Slowly it stretches its roots
across the creek
and hugs another tree.
The bridge between the two
seemed impossible at first,
but those two trees
could teach us a thing or two.
The question now is not how do
we want to die,
it is how do
we want to live.
Do we hold on to life’s regrets,
cling to grudges,
or welcome all
and cultivate
“don’t know” minds, bring our whole selves, find
places of rest,
see what’s sacred,
die into life.
Inspired by Five Invitations by Frank Ostaseki and my 70+ Group of Wise Women
I
Periwinkle on the side of the road
elicits childhood memories.
Family hikes on Lewis Mountain,
walking like Native Americans,
heel toe, heel toe.
Fairies hidden under rocks
and in the roots of ancient trees.
Mounds of leaves to jump in
and tall bonfires with smoke
winding through the neighborhood,
marshmallows toasting on sticks.
Bicycle rides from the top
of the street to the bottom,
all with no hands, such
a feeling of freedom!
Listening, listening is his
key to learning,
said my grandson.
He is just 12.
How do you balance the sins of
the past with the
evolving now?
Forgiveness, he
said. He is only 23.
Young people with
a passion for
social justice
do the hard work in public schools,
synagogues, and
non-profits; mindful
meditation and
compassion classes are expanding.
In this world of
ugly tweets, blame,
do we dare hope?
Inspired by a conversation my son had with his son and by the program at the 25thanniversary of the Chrysalis Institute, now The Center for InnerWork.
Seeming like a blanket of white
flowers, it is
a field of pale
purple splendor,
seen only when I bend down and
look closely. Each
beauty has six
petals around
a yellow center, threadlike
lines splitting each.
So delicate,
so exquisite.
Perhaps if we took the time to
really see those
we pass, we would
glimpse their beauty.
For this I know, there is a light,
an essence, a
center in each
of us, just as
there is a center in each of
those lavender
beauties waiting
to be noticed.
She sat hunched over in her chair,
seeing nothing,
in her own world.
Was she still there?
Softly touching her shoulder, I
told her Luna
was here. Out of
blankness, boredom,
she straightened up, smiled, and love streamed
from hands and mouth.
A blind woman,
a tender dog.
The archetypal pattern lies
deep in your bulb,
waiting beneath
the earth’s surface.
The primordial force pushes
you up through the
layers of soil
as you spiral
skyward, drawn by the sun, fed by
the gentle rain,
unfolding leaves
and soft petals.
untangling the web 