Some days I wake up and feel like there is so much to say. Not superficial stuff, but heart thoughts that don’t often follow a straight path. For me that’s always the best path – I am a meanderer following my curiosity, always willing to be listen to the whisperings of inspiration.
Today begins a 15-day ecourse offered by Liz Lamoreux entitled Tell It, and I’ve happily joined, eagerly looking forward to the prompts that we’ll be exploring and the stories they’ll bring forward. The invitation is to work in any medium we choose, and while I’ll be primarily journaling, I have no doubt I’ll be dabbling in other expressions as well.
I’ve mentioned before that I’ve put together a number of spiral bound journals from collections of ephemera; interesting bits of writing I’ve printed out; some mostly-blank papers I’d doodled a bit on; basically a whole variety of paper goodness I’ve gathered. They somehow seem like a kaleidoscopic peek into my life and what I was/am currently curious about and interested in. There’s plenty of space to write in each journal (and I’m queen of tipping in pages and adding pockets to fill), and so I’ll be using one of these journals for this project. It already feels like I’ve started to tell my story.
Here’s a peek at the cover of my journal. The image is a postcard version of a detail from California, a mural created by Maxine Albro in1934 as part of the Public Works of Art Project. She was one of the few women artists who were part of this New Deal initiated program. So much wonderful work was created under that program, and this is one of my favorites. Whenever I see lilies, particularly Calla Lilies, I think of Archangel Gabriel, who always appears to me as Lily of Love, Trumpeter of Truth, holding sacred space in the West, the realm of water, of dreams, of emotions. I like to think of Gabriel as guardian of Messengers, and feel quite a resonance with this energy.
I don’t expect I’ll be sharing specifically what I’m writing about with regard to Liz’s prompts – I want to be careful to honor both her work in developing the course as well as my own in-the-moment explorations. But I already know that committing to this 15-day process must be very pleasing to my Muse as she’s shown up big time and is dropping all manner of interesting breadcrumbs for me to follow.
I’ve been thinking a lot about our Poet Laureates. Although it’s an appointed position by the Library of Congress, I like to focus on the idea that a country holds poetry as important enough to honor our poets and to want to celebrate and broaden our exposure.
In one of those delightful synchronicities, the page I randomly opened to first in the journal I’m using for the Tell It prompts, had a poem from W.S. Merwin, two-time poet laureate.
“All day the stars watch from long ago
my mother said I am going now
when you are alone you will be all right
whether or not you know you will know
look at the old house in the dawn rain
all the flowers are forms of water
the sun reminds them through a white cloud
touches the patchwork spread on the hill
the washed colors of the afterlife
that lived there long before you were born
see how they wake without question
even though the whole world is burning.”
Somehow this feels like the perfect poem for these wobbly times. In these times when so many people are facing challenges that boggle the mind and hurt the heart, it can be hard to know how to navigate. How do we step forward in meaningful action? Where do we begin? How do we allow space for our emotions? How do we carry on, committed to creating a world where there is equitable sharing of resources and unified care for the Earth and all her beings; where gratitude, beauty, grace, kindness, and inspired action are everyday currencies and all beings know they are greatly loved and infinitely supported? These for me are the questions, even as Merwin says “…the whole world is burning.”
I don’t exactly feel lost, yet I’m not sure where I am either. But there is an undeniable sense of peace for me – a strong knowing that all is well and always will be well no matter what. I understand this is the multi-dimensional part of me holding this understanding, even as the human part of me sometimes has my doubts. But I always wonder, once you have that knowing, does it remain permanently etched in your heart and brain – an irrevocable paradigm change? I suspect many of us arrive at that conclusion because we’ve been through hard times and sadness, unbearable heart break and yet have always survived and gone on from the gray fog back into the ability to see beauty and feel joy. It seems like life offers each one of us those opportunities, but it certainly seems like they’re happening much more as collective events now doesn’t it?
Is it enough that some of us can hold this for each other; and that perhaps over time we all take turns doing that? I believe that’s true. I believe that it can be a powerful contribution to hold peace, to hold calm, to hold joy when there’s much around that seems to the contrary. I hope it’s true. And I hope I sometimes serve, too, as a Lily of Love.