Risks and opportunities

Standing here, 

Waiting to walk into an unpredictable future:

 Could be dark; Could be light; 

 Currently welcoming, but still unknown, 

And we’re just about to clamber over 

 That one last obstacle. 

Heart stop, and start again: 

What’s life but a series of choices, risks, 

And opportunities?

That time of year

Here it comes again, 

That time of year 

When the Fallen Ones lie, 

Blood-red upon the ground 

Until they fade to brown and blend 

 Into the grass and dirt on which they fell, 

Once green and lively, 

Once brilliant, now slowly obscured with time: 

Who then remembers those once famous, 

On everyone’s lips until 

 Loss rendered them invisible? 

The candidates and teachers we once loved 

Whose names no longer linger in our brains; 

The dates and friends that seem 

 To have now become, not “Wow!” 

 But “When?” And “Who?” 

All things and people pass with time, 

Yet still we ache to see the first one fall.

In stillness

In stillness, like the silver sea, 

We can reflect with ease 

 Upon whatever passes by 

Without engaging, being troubled, 

Or making waves to disturb the shores 

Of those around us.

Resistance

The old tree stands, 

Dark etched before the flame of sky,

 A sentry, bearing witness 

To erosion and the passing of the day, 

Clinging to cliff’s edge 

Even as its roots protrude, 

Exposed, through the sediment below; 

Determined — as are we — 

 To resist the tides that threaten to overwhelm.

The ripening

This, this, 

 Is the ripening season: 

What richness is coming to fruition in you? 

What wondrous new life is swelling forth, 

Ready to burst its seams and feed 

Not just your soul, but the world’s?

The goddess in the tree

To have lived so long; to have survived; 

To have carried so many burdens, and still 

Be so brim full of life — 

What character remains; what richness, 

And what beauty in the wrinkles and the lumps; 

What stories must lie, simmering 

Beneath this variegated surface! 

I bow before the wisdom 

Of the goddess, hidden in the tree.

At the threshold

Standing at the threshold 

 Of what was and what will be, 

We ache, and wonder: 

How will this play out? 

Not realizing that the answer lies 

Right here, this moment, now; 

That presence, or the lack thereof, 

Contains the promise buried in the future.

At day’s end

When the evening sun wraps the Madrona 

In a scarlet gown, 

We know the time has come 

To shelter in our nests; 

To look back over the day and assess: 

What have we accomplished here, 

And how have we made the world 

A kinder place?

Growing past our divisions

Split, like this tree, by events in our shared past,

 We can nonetheless continue to grow together 

Toward a future full of grace, undivided,

Providing shelter and nourishment for all.

Avoidance

Like these clouds, 

We’ve been known to shift directions 

 To avoid the mountainous issues in our lives — 

It’s human nature, after all, 

To seek the easy way around tough questions, 

But still they loom. 

And who knows what larger trials 

Await around the corner?

The challenge of beginning

It’s challenging: 

 When you get a glimpse 

Of something new you’d like to explore, 

But it’s clear those first few steps 

 May prove a bit rocky; 

That it might be a rough start 

Before you get your balance 

 And can more easily move forward. 

But don’t let that intimidate you: 

Remember — all of us had to learn to crawl 

Before we could stand and walk, 

But it was certainly worth the time it took 

For us to get our bearings.

Prayers like smoke

This morning’s sun, reflecting twice as red 

In my double-paned window, 

Warns of wildfires to the south and north, 

And smoke that makes it hard 

 For some to breathe. 

A look at Purple Air confirms 

That though we’re green, 

The sun’s red circles have multiplied 

Across this corner of the world:

 Prayers rise like smoke 

 For all of those who suffer.

True companions

Though we may travel the same path, 

The strength one needs to press forward 

Is only theirs to provide: 

We can only help each other if one falls, 

And only then by breaking away 

From our own trajectory — 

And at that point the risks we’ve taken 

May prove impossible to overcome. 

So choose your companions wisely on this journey, 

That we may inspire one another 

 To safely reach our common goal.

Happy memories

Gathered on the edge of the turquoise sea 

Like an alligator, poised to spring 

On the passing fish, 

The seaweed awakens memories 

 Of life on an island, 

When our daughters were young 

 And all of nature served as a toy to play with; 

An incentive to inspire imagination. 

Grown now, they still exhibit that ability, 

To find inspiration, entertainment and pleasure 

 In the simplest and smallest, 

 Most natural surroundings, for which I’m grateful.

What impels or repulses?

Faced with a big decision, 

My thoughts swirl round, 

Exploding with light and color, 

But what’s real? 

Is this an opportunity or an indulgence?

 A way of giving back and engaging, 

Or a way to set apart, or to stumble? 

When is dreaming selfish, 

And how can we trust our instincts under pressure? 

Who was it that said 

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained”? 

And what impels and yet repulses about risk?

Seen from the air

Seen from the air, 

The house where we used to live 

Seems fragile; insubstantial; 

Hardly capable of carrying 

Such a load of happy memories — 

And then, perhaps not surprising,

 (When seen up close) 

So altered by those 

 Who’ve lived in it since we left 

That it’s no longer the home we loved 

And dreamed so long of returning to. 

It’s curious indeed, 

 How time can take old dreams 

And modify them, 

Changing them to reflect more fully 

Experience and shifting circumstances. 

Thomas Wolfe was right, I guess: 

You can’t go home again: 

As we evolve, so do our expectations 

 Of what home — and family, and friends — 

Could and should resemble.

Awaiting sunrise

In the quiet of early morning, 

The ships gather in the harbor,

 Dreaming of adventures 

 And awaiting the sunrise.

Evening meditation

Evening: time to tap the bowl 

And let the spirit resonate once more; 

An invitation to seek inward, 

 Even as we’re looking out; 

To evaluate the actions 

And choices of the day 

And reiterate our gratitude 

 For the beauty of this life…

Trailing clouds of glory

The morning sun enters the world 

 Trailing clouds of glory: 

Let new hope rise, 

And compassion ignite the earth!

Rising to convergence

Seeing this, the phrase came to mind,

 “Everything that rises must converge,” 

Which apparently originated 

With Teilhard de Chardin, 

(Though it was probably made more famous 

By Flannery O’Connor), 

And while I truly cherish the thought 

 Of ascending into Oneness, 

I also know, as an artist,

 I’ve always struggled with perspective. 

How is it that I can comprehend this 

So clearly on a spiritual level, 

While finding it incomprehensible 

 When trying to draw or paint?

Black coffeeklatsch

We had a murder in our yard, just yesterday 

(Of crows, of course) 

And while the others swarmed around, 

Fluttering in the birdbaths 

And snacking from the feeders, 

These two held a quiet conversation 

At a two-top of their own.

 It seemed there might be 

Some admonishment going on — 

The one on the right looks a bit ruffled — 

But it might just be the light, 

Or perhaps projection: 

Maybe they were just sharing their day, 

Swapping stories about their kids, 

Or developing their flight plan; 

Who could know?

 I photographed them, then left 

For a coffee date of my own.

When energy is low

When the sun is low in the sky, 

The tiny fern casts a long shadow, 

Just as, when our energy is low, 

We tend to project a darker outlook, 

Find more things discouraging or disappointing, Forgetting that the energy 

Will surely rise again.

Set ourselves apart, or belong?

What is it with these waves, 

That they keep rushing toward the beach?

 Don’t they understand 

They’ll simply splash and fall away;

 Never climb those enticing cliffs, 

Never dream among the trees, 

But simply return to the blue anonymity 

 Of the sea; 

The same oneness we’ve been craving, 

We who struggle here on land, 

Defining ourselves, 

 Seeking what will set us apart, 

Even as we long for belonging…

Another sleepless night

Another sleepless night, 

Caused not by pain, this time, 

But by strong, stormy winds, 

Relentless, hurling pine cones and detritus 

 To clang against the metal roof, 

And trigger restless thoughts that spill 

Like water over rocks, surge in and out: 

Should we, or should we not; 

What is the wiser course, and why 

Are we still drawn, and when 

Will we accept both passing time 

And rising limitations?

Will we regret having said no,

Or saying yes?

Winding down

As summer winds down 

And we drift toward September, 

The morning sun slides slowly toward the south, 

Behind the trees, 

No longer reddened by the smoke of forest fires, 

But still gilding a host of clouds 

And the distant shores. 

We, too, are gliding slowly southward, 

No longer fired by the energies of youth, 

But hopefully still brightening; 

Bringing color to the lives of those around us…

No green thumb

Before my girls were born, 

I had a green thumb: 

House plants and gardens 

Thrived under my care, 

But after giving birth I lost that touch, 

And years later it still seems to be beyond me, 

And so I’m doubly grateful 

To the gardeners of the world, 

Who share their gift for beauty 

With the rest of us:

Our eyes and souls are fed 

By their hard work and vision.

Mixed feelings

Seen through the rain, the tiny flags 

An inviting burst of color 

Against the relentless gray. 

However much I’m grateful, 

On behalf of the wildfire fighters 

And my thirsty yard and garden 

For these showers, 

I’m still hoping that the sunshine will return 

And sad for all the summer events 

Whose attendance is reduced 

On account of the weather.

Claim your truth

You. 

Yes, you: 

You, with so many gifts; 

With so much personal power, 

And yet you consistently step aside, 

Off the path you deserve to walk, 

In deference to others. 

All that childhood conditioning 

 That keeps you from claiming your truth; 

Your value; your right to be here: 

Not to usurp, but to be strong; 

To be appreciated for all you have to offer.

Memories into night

And when the day’s end rises, 

What is it that we’ll carry with us 

Into the obscurity of night? 

Regrets, accomplishments, and wisdom — 

All fading into dreams, 

 Like gray clouds, merging 

Into a totality, 

 No single golden memory 

To linger, brighter; 

 Larger than the day we left behind…

Light ignites beauty

Light ignites beauty 

 In the simplest, most mundane settings. 

Let yours shine, and discover 

 How it makes the world more beautiful.

The light within

Though hidden behind the clouds 

Of worry, pain, and doubt or the daily grind, 

The light within you still shines out, 

Coloring all it touches 

And inspiring those who watch. 

Be patient and trust: 

This, too, shall pass.

Seeing possibilities

When we moved the ancient wood stove 

That came with our house 

Out of the sun porch 

(Where it was blocking the view) 

And into the yard at some random position 

(Where it’s now part of a different view, 

Because it’s too heavy to move again) 

People would comment:

 “We love your new fountain!” 

And we’d laugh… 

Change — always challenging — 

 Also offers opportunities 

 To see things from a different perspective; 

To open; to try new things; to take chances. 

I’m trying to get better at seeing possibilities 

 And letting go of longings for what was.

Gifted

Gifted from a neighbor’s garden to a friend, 

Who then gifted it to me, 

 This gift just keeps on giving: 

Beauty, color, texture, scent — 

If only each of us could be such gifts, 

Perfuming the world around us 

 With compassion, and joy…

Wildfires burning

Though our air quality here is clear, 

The reddish fog in the distance serves 

 To warn us of the wildfires burning 

Elsewhere in our county and our state:

The acres of forest lost, houses endangered, 

Animals left homeless, roadways blocked, 

The fire fighters’ lives at risk. 

We lift our hands in a silent prayer 

 For the safety of all affected, and for rain.

The shock of separation

Yes, in the beginning, 

 We are nurtured. 

 But at some point we’ll be forced 

 To learn to make it on our own, 

 Though that choice may not be ours, 

 And separation may prove to be a shock.

Dark thoughts

Dark thoughts, 

Triggered by minor pains 

And lack of sleep: 

Is this what life has now — and will — become, 

This constant vigilance, aware 

Of what each irritation might presage, 

No longer freely enjoying productivity, 

Reaching out and giving, 

But inward, watching each and every twinge; 

Dependent on the solicitude of strangers? 

Is this what will precipitate the end, 

Or yet another round 

Of medical interventions? 

Yes, I’m getting better, 

But will I ever be at my best again?

Rest, protected

It’s so much easier to rest easy, 

When you know there’s someone else 

Who’s got your back; whom you can trust. 

Bless all those who’ve watched over us 

And our rights all through the years, 

Family and friends, teachers and founders, 

And all whose call is to serve and protect, 

That they, too, may find rest.

Living in the moment

To sit and watch the sunset; to dream; 

To imagine that we’re traveling 

In those ships on the horizon, 

And to know that here and now 

Has a grace and flavor all its own 

To be appreciated, is an art unmatched: 

Each moment a precious opportunity…

To be a cat

O, to be a cat; to climb 

To the highest spot in whatever room 

My beloved owner sits, and drape 

Myself so confidently there, and rest 

Serenely, knowing when my One is near, 

I’m safe, and all is well, and so it shall remain; 

No anxious thoughts to trouble me, 

 No mice to chase, to just, simply… be.

To lead but not to rule

To lead, but not to rule: 

That is true power.

Reflecting goodness

The only way I can show you 

 How red the sun is this morning 

Is to show you its reflection 

In my double-paned window: 

When focused on the sun itself, 

My camera paints it white. 

Perhaps that’s like the way we see goodness: 

By paying attention to how it reflects 

 In community: what is right, good, and true 

May not lie in what we say or how we look, 

But in what we do…

The divine spark

After days of being serenaded 

By the mournful lament of foghorns, 

 Sunsets obscured behind a murky haze, 

The gray mist lifted briefly yesterday 

To reveal this spectacular striation: proof 

The sun still lives behind the clouds, 

And (I choose to believe) 

The divine spark still resides beneath 

The darkest of hearts…

Clickbait

We live a few blocks away 

 From the county fairgrounds, 

And the fair will be arriving 

 This coming weekend, 

So, for some reason I fail to understand, 

This giant inflatable dinosaur 

 Now greets all passers by. 

He’s handsome, to be sure, and hard to miss, 

But I’m not sure what he communicates. 

Perhaps he’s what’s known as an influencer, 

Pumping increasingly irrelevant information out 

In hopes of getting noticed? 

Or simply more fake news; click bait, 

Designed to make us look, or even fear, 

Apparent sound and fury, but signifying nothing? 

Or like a a trickster politician — or a blogger — 

Drawing attention to false assumptions 

 And then shouting, “Made you look!” 

 So we all feel foolish…

Hidden in the fog

The truth, what’s real, 

Lies hidden in the fog, 

Unnamed, unbroken,

 A mystery revealed 

In the oneness of what’s not there, 

Yet still we search, and sift, and ponder, 

Seeking answers 

 To the unanswerable questions…

Life’s a wheel

Like this thistle, life’s a wheel: 

Always turning, some parts painful, 

Some parts beautiful, 

Some parts dark, and others bright as stars —

 Each moment passes, leading to the next 

In progression as we’re born, and grow, 

 Release the seeds of what comes next, 

Then fade…

Wildfire season

Walking back from our evening stroll 

In this cool, green, pleasant land, 

Along the cliff we love so well, 

We noticed that the sunset’s nightly cast 

Of rose upon Mount Baker’s snow 

Was being echoed, off to the right,

 By a curious cloud formation 

Hovering over a nearby hill. 

What could it be? A thundercloud? 

A raging wildfire, or an explosion?

 A quick look at the wildfire map 

Gives a possible answer to our question, 

And prayers rise up for endangered woodlands,

 Imperiled wildlife, and all whose homes 

And livelihoods are threatened…

Benevolent gaze

Yesterday, when we walked to the mailbox, 

Six deer followed us down the driveway:

 Three bucks, a doe, and two fawns. 

It’s hard not to feel a sense of kinship 

With these beautiful creatures;

 Their gaze feels so benevolent…

Red sun rising

Glimpsed through the trees, 

The red sun rising ignites the sky above, 

Broadcasting light to every corner 

Of the heavens; an invitation 

 To trust that whatever troubles we imagine 

Might be easily overcome by powers greater 

Than we humans can begin to comprehend…

X marks the spot!

"Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale 

Her infinite variety” 

Though speaking of Cleopatra, 

Shakespeare must have been inspired 

By the infinite variety and fascinating charm 

Of the daily parade of beauty that is nature…

A little pinkness

Sometimes we just need a little pinkness 

To brighten up our days...

While in recovery

While in recovery, my world’s grown small, 

Peopled as it is by deer, and birds, 

And distant views of islands, water, 

Sky, and clouds; by sunsets gray or colorful — 

All gifts that lie beyond the windows 

While I sit, or sleep, or walk 

The few steps I can manage, 

The number growing slowly, day by day. 

And yet, what more than this 

Might anyone want? An opportunity 

 To grow closer to sea and sky, 

To watch the vee of geese fly honking by, 

 The clouds shift as the young deer lose their spots, 

And the bucks’ horns lose their fur; 

To mourn the loss of color 

As the lavender in my garden and the grass 

Both fade to brown 

 Under the harsh light of the sun…