The Full Moon Is Calling
The full moon is calling and I must go
Dancing in the path of a most glorious glow
Adventures await for those brave enough to dive
Into the depths I must go to arrive
Lost in the Middle of Everything
I stand in the fray, noticing the dancing light on the coming horizon.
Alone in this abyss, I gently sway to the vibrations of others as they pass.
My feet are firm with restlessness, my heart is resolute with hesitation.
Everything moves at breakneck speed as the flickering light teases my senses.
Confusion is the emotion of the day, lost in the middle of everything.
Air tightens its grip, as if a noose of suggestion.
Moving nothing, the light playfully dances on my skin.
This echo chamber is deafening, my silence, the others noise.
The traffic is unbearable. It is oppressive. Hiding the why, the how – everything.
Peering into the cosmos of questions, lost in the middle of everything.
People move with such speed, blurring the lines of truth.
Everyone in a hurry to get nowhere, stalled in the rush to nothing.
Refusing to be stuck in reverse, I lean into the dancing light.
From my vantage point I see everything that was and every possibility.
Yet still here remains, a soul lost in the middle of everything.
-Lavinia Busch
The Golden Hour
Looking to the east there you arrive,
Washing the darkness with light by your side
Smiling, I glance hiding shyness amongst stars
You follow my shadow lending brilliance afar
Upon this highway between you and I,
we dance another dance until it is goodbye.
A highway made only for intimate embrace
Of candles, windows, treetops and grace.
Silent only a few moments as we sway
Music sounding that beckons to play
If only today, tomorrow nothing is sure
Dance with me, dance with me, as the starlight endures.
-Lavinia Busch 2018
Dive Into Your Wells of Everything
Dive Into Your Wells of Everything
Leaving all that remains undone
Earnestly I look at the sun
Radiant beams of blinding light
Circle around, pulling me tight
Leaving all that is misunderstood
Bravely I dive where no one else could
Beyond the universal orbit of green
Beside and between the seen and unseen
Leaving silence by the breath of the wind
Neither afraid of damnation or sin
Deeply intrigued but never disturbed
Leaving many confused and perturbed
Standing aside wishing for more
Leaning into a turbulent shore
Alone and naked with nothing to bring
I dive into your wells of everything
-Lavinia Busch
Words have Meaning
Love after Love
The time will come
when, with elation,
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror,
and each will smile at the other’s welcome,
and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you
all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.
Derek Walcott
Midlife is a strange and unfamiliar territory with the tapestry of my life becoming a colorful cloth woven from unique experiences of old and of what is yet to come. Even with the underlying sense of fatigue that accompanies a full life, I remain optimistic that patience, understanding and growth will sustain as I continue this very humbling and human journey. To this point, an area of introspection that still eludes me is complete self-acceptance. It is one thing to write, teach or talk about self love. It is still quite another to feel what can only be called a lingering sense of unease with parts of myself that I find less desirable. With an embarrassing level of honesty, I wonder if feelings such as these will ever go away. In addition, the “love thyself” dialogue of late has me flustered. I find it exceedingly difficult to find a place of belonging in this narrative, leading to even more feelings of separateness from the group.
Words matter and in my case nothing more than the written word. The constant search for inspiration has provided some peace in this chapter of life. When I am totally spent and exhausted from constant reflection, I find refuge each and every time in the thoughts of another. Reading others words without prejudice somehow makes my confusion less so.
Love after Love by Derek Walcott is no different in this regard. His words soothe me in the most gentle of ways. “The time will come when, with elation, you will greet yourself arriving at your own door….” How wonderful to greet myself with elation as I might a dear friend that has been deeply missed. In truth, I have missed the girl that was creative, gentle-hearted, sensitive, curious and thoughtful. I have missed the girl that worried less about what others thought and more about big ideas and important questions. I have missed her and have begun welcoming her back with open arms. It is in this return to wholeness that I see myself apart from others opinions and begin to open as was meant only for me.
Life is a winding road peppered with diversions and distractions. It is curious that at this juncture I am returning to a more authentic self, before the self-critique took over and silenced all the beautiful uniqueness within. These words say it all; “Give back your heart, to itself, to the stranger who has loved you, all your life, whom you ignored…” I apologize to that young girl whom I left behind in an attempt to “blend” in. That beautiful child that was filled with such a loving and creative spirit. That child that was loved but often misunderstood. I welcome that child at my door and into my home. We are one and without each other I am lost.
I am forever thankful to all the intrepid writers that have continued to write regardless of audience. It is in your words that I have rediscovered self in the most glorious of ways. Words continue to matter. Nothing speaks to a seeker more than words of self-discovery. Keep writing my beautiful ones. It is within our words that we will be set free.
Quiet Butterfly
Keeping Quiet
by Pablo Neruda
Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still.
For once on the face of the earth,
let’s not speak in any language;
let’s stop for one second,
and not move our arms so much.
It would be an exotic moment
without rush, without engines;
we would all be together
in a sudden strangeness.
Fisherman in the cold sea
would not harm whales
and the man gathering salt
would not look at his hurt hands.
Those who prepare green wars,
wars with gas, wars with fire,
victories with no survivors,
would put on clean clothes
and walk about with their brothers
in the shade, doing nothing.
What I want should not be confused
with total inactivity.
Life is what it is about;
I want no truck with death.
If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with death.
Perhaps the earth can teach us
as when everything seems dead
and later proves to be alive.
Now I’ll count up to twelve
and you keep quiet and I will go.
Quiet. I crave it but never seem to get enough; quiet in my external environment and quiet from an internal dialogue that haunts me. It is only with quiet that I find clarity, especially during periods of great transformation. As in the metaphor of the butterfly, I feel the delicate strands of a self-imposed cocoon restricting at the moment. Discomfort is necessary for growth and I wonder how much I must bear before breaking free and stretching my new found wings. I feel a constant hum of the other, a sound in the distance that beckons me. The sound being the steady march of possibility, the limitation being a tightly wrapped cocoon. I have the urge to burst forth regardless of circumstance, common sense tempers this desire with a litany of questioning. A constant risk assessment visits like a bad habit, it baffles the mind.
Having flirted with uncertainty before, memory replays moments of flight apart from this ever tightening cocoon. Even so, I am certain that I have stifled transformation by allowing the opinions of others and even myself to further restrict. It is difficult to admit that in learning how to fly the atmosphere will become unstable. Wings must be taught how to catch the air, glide effortlessly and land softly while still enduring bumpy rides and hard landings. The discomfort of it all is like an itch that can not be scratched, lessened only by the ever present hum of possibility.
“My imagination functions much better when I don’t have to speak to people.”
― Patricia Highsmith
Tuning into this hum calls for solitude and a clear mind. Only in this space am I able to separate fear from possibility, often becoming shaken by the speed of impending transformation. Life is so very short and if not soaring what then? I have only myself to blame if I do not escape from this cocoon with a certain measure of immediacy. It is only in flight that all pretense is left behind and beautiful colors that are uniquely mine appear.
“The quiet sense of something lost”
― Alfred Tennyson
In this space I sense those who have come before, living in the most unusual of ways. Having unabashedly taken flight they experienced both the joy and heartbreak of a life well lived. Feeling the void of sudden departure it is clear someone will fill this space, this vacuum. Someone will be the free spirit that shines deeply, unafraid of the cuts. Someone will live dangerously, taking chances and relishing results. Someone will approach all others with unconditional love, no expectations or judgments. Someone will break free and fly…. Looking to the sky, I smell the air, feel the breeze and absorb the rays of the sun. It is only in failing that one can be transformed. I silently pray that I become this someone. I silently pray for wings.
Slowly
Slowly
Walking out of the darkness, shrouded in a specific heaviness
I see rays of light so bright in their intensity
Heat sears my face and a fullness grows in my heart
One foot in front of the other, slowly
My back guards against all misdeeds
Eyes gazing towards absolution
Comfort in the mystery, seeded in the unknown
One foot in front of the other, slowly
With each passing day I make some progress
Inching closer to everything
Leaving behind nothing but my shadow
One foot in front of the other, slowly
I begin to shed layer upon layer
Seeking a blissful lightness
Butterfly wings emerging from a cocoon
One foot in front of the other, slowly
Sadness, sickness, loneliness and fear
Celebration, joy, tenderness and togetherness.
Every emotion under my skin makes an appearance
One foot in front of the other, slowly
Days change, seasons change, people in my life change
I continue to walk forward, bit by bit
Deliberately, thoughtfully, towards only myself
One foot in front of the other, slowly
At first I resist, frightened and scared
Now I press forward for me, no one else
Willingly, excited with possibilities
One foot in front of the other, slowly
Time passes, my heart beats with anticipation
Living each adventure as it comes and goes
Slowly, I surrender to the path and allow hope to sing
Peacefully, I take yet another step and take flight.
-Lavinia Busch
Why is it that the answers I seek always seem elusive? In practice, the old adage one step forward, two steps back leaves me disillusioned and lost. To this end, I had a deeply emotional experience while walking a few days ago. Writing poetic verse in my head with each step, I simply could not stop the words and emotions from pouring out. After having written a full piece and walking over five miles, I cried. Not bitter tears of sadness but tears of a profound letting go.
Having an experience such as this, I often question what in my personal life may be out of sorts. Troubles I have pushed down into the depths of my psyche, afraid of what a closer analysis might reveal. I am also aware that it takes a combination of events to ruffle my feathers rather than just one. I may have personal things on my mind, professional matters that are pressing and family dynamics that are stressful. It is never just as simple as one thing; I am far too complex for that.
Walking and writing, I was reminded that life is not a sprint but a marathon. Anything that is troubling me will find its way to resolution. Whether a resolution of my liking or not, it will come nonetheless. I need not always have the answers. On this particular day, walking up one of my favorite hills, I once again made the decision to let go and resigned myself to living in and accepting the unknown. My tears were tears of relief, fear and anticipation welcoming the space between conflict and resolution, doubt and understanding, an uncomfortable place to be sure. In my case, discomfort is always a precursor to growth. Like it or not this has always proven to be true.
“It has taken me quite a few years to realize the fact that most of the thoughts in my head are not necessary.”
― Bert McCoy
I inherently know that my life will end. Upon the moment of my death, I may find myself still befuddled and bewildered, caught in that space between. With this knowledge, I alone am left with the choice to step off the treadmill of indecision and soar. The process of enlightenment can be laboriously slow. Each life event comes with a specific lesson and opportunity for growth. Some of these lessons arrive quietly without much notice while others are abrupt and painful in the unfolding. The only guarantee is that the lessons will continue to present, even when I have had enough and think I cannot bear another.
That day on the hill, I found a momentary sense of calm and serenity. Even though life is forever proving the security I crave to be elusive, I am okay. I know I will persist, carry on and live my life to the best of my ability. Everything around me may continue to swirl and flex but I can stand in the middle of this vortex and free myself from the outcome. I can create a steady and secure environment regardless of what outside forces move against me and become stronger for having done so. With this momentary enlightenment, taking a deep and soulful breath, I smiled. Feeling the wind on my face, the sun shining down, I allowed my mind to be still. I reveled in this stillness, a peaceful surrender to all that is unknown and may remain so. Continuing to live in the mystery is one of my greatest challenges and at the same time a beautiful gift.
The Invitation
The Invitation
It doesn’t interest me
what you do for a living.
I want to know
what you ache for
and if you dare to dream
of meeting your heart’s longing.It doesn’t interest me
how old you are.
I want to know
if you will risk
looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.It doesn’t interest me
what planets are
squaring your moon…
I want to know
if you have touched
the centre of your own sorrow
if you have been opened
by life’s betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.I want to know
if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.I want to know
if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you
to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us
to be careful
to be realistic
to remember the limitations
of being human.It doesn’t interest me
if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear
the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.I want to know
if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
“Yes.”It doesn’t interest me
to know where you live
or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.It doesn’t interest me
who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.It doesn’t interest me
where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know
what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.I want to know
if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like
the company you keep
in the empty moments.By Oriah © Mountain Dreaming,
from the book The Invitation
published by HarperONE, San Francisco,
1999 All rights reserved
As poems go, this one strikes a chord. As one drawn by the heart and soul of another, I find societies emphasis on all else tiring. I am not deceived by this costume or covering worn in an attempt to appear familiar to many and foreign to few. I can be in the same space with another and see they are putting on errs, hiding pain, sadness, frustration. Oriah speaks to this with “if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without, moving to hide it, or fade it, or fix it.” It makes people so uncomfortable to be face to face with another’s pain let alone their own. We are taught that we must tough it out, be strong, never let anyone see us in a state of weakness. My initial inclination is always fixing the problem. I try to fight this urge by using deep listening as my response instead.
I am also deeply touched by the lines, “I want to know if you can, disappoint another, to be true to yourself. If you can bear, the accusation of betrayal, and not betray your own Soul.” Coming from a very traditional home in which being highly goal oriented was valued, I found myself lost between expectations I thought my parents held and my own desires and creative urges. I was academic and could have been a doctor, lawyer or CEO. Instead I was draw to the arts, the ethereal and aesthetic qualities of movement and writing. It has taken me much reflection to be at ease with this contradiction. I know my family loves me, but my passions are not viewed as a contribution in quite the same way as more traditional work.
Finally, I see myself in the last stanza. “I want to know, if you can be alone, with yourself, and if you truly like, the company you keep, in the empty moments.” My best friend is myself. Strange as it may sound, I enjoy my own company. I like to be lost in thought, listening to music with no distraction. I am definitely not a recluse, but I do pull energy from moments of solitude. When I find that same quality in another, knowing we can be alone together sitting in the same room while deeply immersed in something that speaks to me, I am overjoyed. It is this type of person that I am drawn to; a person that knows when to provide space for quiet and when to meet me at the gates of my solitude, drawing me out into the world to play and explore once again.
You are Oceanic
You are Oceanic
All she wanted
was to find a place to stretch her bones.
A place to lengthen her smiles
and spread her hair.
A place where her legs could walk
without cutting and bruising.
A place unchained.
She was born out of ocean breath.
I reminded her;
‘Stop pouring so much of yourself
into hearts that have no room
for themselves.
Do not thin yourself.
Be vast.
You do not bring the ocean to a river’.
Tapiwa Mugabe
Have you ever had the urge to just walk out of wherever you may be and “stretch your bones”? I certainly have had to restrain myself from doing so on more than one occasion. A part of me is always hearing the call of the unknown, urging me to let go of the responsibilities that I have shouldered over the years. I have named these urges my Thelma and Louise moments. While I have no intention of driving off a cliff per the film, I do harbor a strong desire to run away with the gypsies on most days.
As a woman and an empath, I sometimes get caught in the cycle of caring for others while forgetting to care for myself. I find this part of my personality difficult to manage and even more difficult to understand. Having given far too many years to others that did not value me in any meaningful way, the line from Tapiwa Mugabe’s poem, “Stop pouring so much of yourself into hearts that have no room” speaks to me. I see that my willingness to care deeply for others never came with an expectation of reciprocal treatment, quite the contrary. My motto in life has always been to lead by example with the hopes that I inspire those I care about in some small way. By doing so, I aim to instill a healthy curiosity leading to exploration of deeper and more meaningful truths.
After many years of living in this way, I have come to realize that no matter how many good intentions I have, I cannot force anyone to hold the precept of love in their heart. If their heart has no room, if they are unable to see the value in this end, it becomes an action of diminishing returns. Rather, I choose to believe in the possibility of being “unchained”, to live as if I were an ocean moving freely with the tides, predictable in my unpredictability. I wish to not worry so much about others souls with a knowing that only they have the ability to find themselves. This is not my responsibility and it never was. I can continue to be the best example I am capable of, but must let go of the end result with some grace and a belief that all will be well.
The gentle rhythm of the tides, holding within a fierce strength is representative of the ebb and flow of my inner self, my soul. To love another requires a give and take, a push and pull, a dance between moments of surrender and strength. At times I lead and at other times I allow the tides to take me where they will. It is in this surrender that I always find my voice, my strength. Trusting another to take the lead, becoming “unchained” from the illusions of love and not being fearful of the “cutting and bruising” that will inevitably happen, as it always will in the tides of a relationship, allows for a sense of peaceful acceptance. As long as I am seen and valued the rest is unimportant and not worth the worry. I am indeed an ocean: deep, thoughtful, intense, blissful, gentle, beautiful, strong, mysterious and so many other things. If I value myself first, I can than reveal the deep and beautiful oceans of my soul and know that I am free to love and be loved without restriction and unchained. There is nothing more mesmerizing than free flowing water.
She Let Go
She Let Go
She let go. Without a thought or a word, she let go.
She let go of the fear. She let go of the judgments. She let go of the confluence of opinions swarming around her head. She let go of the committee of indecision within her. She let go of all the ‘right’ reasons. Wholly and completely, without hesitation or worry, she just let go.
She didn’t ask anyone for advice. She didn’t read a book on how to let go. She didn’t search the scriptures. She just let go. She let go of all of the memories that held her back. She let go of all of the anxiety that kept her from moving forward. She let go of the planning and all of the calculations about how to do it just right.
She didn’t promise to let go. She didn’t journal about it. She didn’t write the projected date in her Day-Timer. She made no public announcement and put no ad in the paper. She didn’t check the weather report or read her daily horoscope. She just let go.
She didn’t analyze whether she should let go. She didn’t call her friends to discuss the matter. She didn’t do a five-step Spiritual Mind Treatment. She didn’t call the prayer line. She didn’t utter one word. She just let go.
No one was around when it happened. There was no applause or congratulations. No one thanked her or praised her. No one noticed a thing. Like a leaf falling from a tree, she just let go.
There was no effort. There was no struggle. It wasn’t good and it wasn’t bad. It was what it was, and it is just that.
In the space of letting go, she let it all be. A small smile came over her face. A light breeze blew through her. And the sun and the moon shone forevermore.
Ernest Holmes/Rev. Safire Rose
Trust is a funny thing. It can only be built over many years, trials and tribulations. Especially for someone like myself that does not trust anything or anyone easily. The thought of letting go and just moving can be terrifying for me. I have grown to understand that for me, fear is the best indicator of what I should be embracing and moving towards. To do this, I have to let go of expectations, perfectionism and self criticism by stepping into my fears. This blog has been one of the ways in which I have faced my fears head on, by publishing my most intimate thoughts. Even so, I certainly have other areas of my life that have not quite seen this commitment to fearless living realized. Everyone has some things that they hold close to their chest and I am no different in this way.
When I am not sure I have the courage to let go for myself, I think about my daughter and what I would like to leave as a legacy. I don’t want her to be afraid of the unknown, I want her to jump into life even with all of its uncertainty and self doubt, to live without hesitation and worry. As the poem reads above, I want her to “…let go of the fear…let go of the judgments….let go of the confluence of opinions swarming around her head.” I wish all of this for her and more. She is already much more fearless than myself and I take pride in the fact that she can breathe so freely into her life with such joy and passion.
In my view, words are cheap and teaching by example is the only authentic way that I know how to parent. My hope is that even when I fall short, miss the mark and stumble, my daughter will see me getting back up and trying again and again. Recommitting to just letting go and living my life to its fullest potential. I hope she is witness to more moments in which I allow myself to move without hesitation and pronouncement. Times in which I stop the constant risk assessment and discover, “There was no effort. There was no struggle. It wasn’t good and it wasn’t bad. It was what it was, and it is just that.”
It is in these instances, when fear is replaced with a light and effortless joy, that I have arrived where I was meant to be all along. I arrive with a smile on my face, the wind in my hair and the possibilities shining in front of me. Leaving doubt far behind, I just let go.