One thing I didn’t expect as an organizer / facilitator of a retreat was to actually also simultaneously be participating by writing and reading. The courage of this group, their willingness to be vulnerable and write bravely turned out to be an enormous inspiration. We not only wrote together but we read, listened, laughed, cried, ate, drank, did yoga, chanted, danced, hiked up the hillsides, through villages at dusk, bought leather boots, climbed towers, made our way through the dark together and somewhere in all that was a powerful shifting into ourselves. Thank you Dulcie, Nancy, Ellen, Kate, Debbie, Troi, Patricia, Michelle, Sue, Danielle, Jack and Nikki for those enriching gifts you gave me last week. I hold it all right where I hold everything else I love in this world.
Day 3 – Heart Speak
as the vibration
of a field of
sunflowers in summer sunshine
buzzing with yellow/black bees —
I want to flutter, flip, fly —
sing into the wind,
let it carry my voice,
draping it gauze-like, bride-like
over the hillsides, through homes, barns buildings —
into eardrums, tree trunks, down rivers and root systems.
to quicken, thicken
blood flow, life flow.
Be a force of nature
Be a warm ray of sunlight,
a cool shady respite,
the fine tiny blue iridescence of a feather,
please yes thank you
I want a space of my own
to occupy besides just my body.
A lowly-lit boudoir bedroom orangey red wine-colored walls,
a wrought iron balcony big enough for a barbecue and some jazz.
A gas lit stove, a fireplace, please, mosquito net draped around a big pillow plush bed of colors and textures.
A desk I can sprawl my imagination across —
or my body —
when I feel it’s the only thing left I have to offer the page.
I want to display all the colors of nail polish on a spice rack hooked to the inside of my closet doors —
a rainbow awaiting me — bright possibilities — every time I open up that dark door.
Do I sound frivolous?
Does this sound selfish?
Please don’t judge me.
I don’t even like to sugar-coat my Cheerios.
I have developed a keen sense of adaptation.
Of making do to simplify.
Isn’t it ironic how much we must do without in order to have?
The nature of contrast and/or coming up against.
Appreciation and gratitude don’t just come from nothing — oh but wait —
Yes they do!
But it’s not that —
that which the doing without is about.
It’s about the having part of doing without.
My truth is,
a long walk alone and a fresh coat of nail polish
can go a long way towards fixing what feels impossible.
So by all means.
Bring on that window.
The one with the ever-changing view of the world/ocean/street life below.
Teach me how to say the same thing in new ways.
Take this constant crick in my neck,
the knot that forms from carrying
and let me rest, vibrate from somewhere central.
Pull the mountains close to me,
lasso the moon,
hold it to my face close,
let me smell the scent of its seas,
its jagged canyons and craters.
Let me have it all —
I bet it can fit into 900 sq ft.
Oh, and I want a man who can appreciate a mute morning.
Who brings me honeyed coffee while I’m already at my desk.
Give me a cowboy-tough character, a champion bull-rider without the concussions.
Give me a closet full of just enough, some solid muscle, a safe embrace.
Take away the overwhelm,
the misunderstandings amid love,
the harsh judgment and weird ways caring so much sometimes feels like jealousy.
See, appreciate, understand.
Allow space enough inside this wild burning red
for fresh squeezed orange juice,
for all I cannot possibly imagine from here.