The challenge of volunteering

Nature has a way of tossing 

Beauty into unexpected places: 

My neighbor used to call these surprising gifts 

Volunteers. And — ideally — 

Isn’t that what volunteering’s like? 

So often an attempt to bring some light 

And/or beauty to dark places? 

How sad it is, when the light we bring 

Never seems to be enough, 

 Or gets extinguished, 

Or when others only add to the darkness…

Lefty unattended

Though overgrown with weeds, 

Our lavender garden’s lush 

With the purple scent of promise:

 As with people, institutions, and opinions 

That we cherish, we look past, forget, ignore 

The imperfections, only seeing 

What we expect or have grown accustomed to, 

Forgetting all things grow and change — 

Both bad and good —

 And may get wild or unruly left unattended…

Let spirits rise

The winds of change are blowing through, 

And all the opinions, guidelines, and the rules 

We thought we had nailed down 

May be whisked away, leaving us bereft 

Of all but spirit: that which fuels 

Rebirth, rebuilding, and renewal, 

Always turning winter into spring. 

Trust, don’t cling, and watch the spirit dance 

As it’s lifted to new heights.

The joy of reconnecting

Summertime, 

And the return of simple pleasures, 

Like splashing in the water, with friends. 

Even masked, and six careful feet apart, 

We welcome opportunities to reconnect, 

Both with nature and each other.

On the journey home

In the still morning,

 A lone sailboat returns home to the harbor, 

Back from adventures unknown, 

Watched over by the mountain as it passes. 

We, too, are on a journey home, 

Watched over as we pass 

Through waters sometimes still 

And sometimes rough; 

 The Watcher sometimes clear; 

Sometimes fogged in or clouded 

But always present as a marker 

To help us stay the course.

Seeking equanimity

This was the state of my dreams last night 

As my mind struggles to cope 

With the swirling surge of responses: 

The fury, the helplessness and frustration, 

The sadness, the grief, and the driving desire 

To help all those affected. 

I’m grateful to be living in a protected state, 

And appalled to discover the depths of my rage 

With all those who celebrate this victory. 

How, after such troubled dreams, 

Am I to find the trust and calm I seek; 

The equanimity, tolerance, and compassion I crave?

Thoughts on generosity

I was never one of those wonderful moms — 

You know: the ones in the ruffled aprons 

Who are always cooking roasts 

 And baking cookies and apple pies — 

But on special occasions I will make 

This amaretto brownie chip pie, 

Most of which I prefer to give away.

 It’s not exactly a selfless act; 

 It’s more to protect my figure — 

Or what’s left of it! 

And isn’t that the truth 

 Of many apparently selfless acts? 

We tend to only give away 

That which we no longer want or need. 

But each of us draws those lines — 

The boundaries between self-sacrifice, 

Self-protection, self-serving, 

And pure selfishness— in different places. 

 Where are yours? And what —

 If we were to become more generous; 

More compassionate — might need to change?