Pull

Pull.jpg

I feel that pull again
simplify
stop gathering
breathe
rest

You see I’ve worked my time

I’ve played the games
I wanted to be noticed
Seen, acknowledged
Let people know I know what I’m doing
Manipulate my life into what I think I want
Control the outcome, control everything

When that ends
there is peace
a quiet to hear
frogs, yes, frogs
I’ve never heard before

When that other stuff ends
I reside in what has been given
Wet sidewalks after spring rain
Running brook that last week was dry
Mother Tree, always
Ravens who now come when I am present
Deer scat in the middle of suburbia
A moon so bright it wakes me up
Snow so deep with sideway winds
our aspen takes its last bow
Squirrels to taunt my Bean

And yet I continue to gather
stuff, new now
paint brushes, canvas
ads for collage
containers, easels
stones and bells and candles
and statues and rattles and drums
and crystals and scarves and
journals and meetings
and Zoom calls
all blessings, yes
yes
yes

But..

My space gets smaller
inside and out
tighter, less room to breathe

I’ve worked my time.

There is freedom calling

Freedom that asks just to sit
Not mediate
Not journal
Not journey
Not chant
Not sing
Not pray

Just sit
Listen
Be grateful

I’ve worked my time

It’s time

In Thanksgiving

Moon112118

She shines her  full round upon us
                                                           in reminder of Light
who glows from within

Even in our darkest days when we forget
                                                                who we are
                                                                               who we are
                                                                                              who are we

Who walk on feet blessing Earth

Who sing with bird in gratitude

Who
                        dance and play
                                                                  in childhood dream

Who wash in ocean’s tide

Who look in each other’s eyes
                                              each other’s eyes
                                                                     each other’s eyes
Then see ourselves,
our Light

Look to her
            her glorious round
                                   and give her thanks
                                                          for her reminder

 

 

Author’s Note:

May this day be a day of gratitude for all good.
And may the pain be healed.

Amen. Aho. Blessed be.

Bones

28576797_10213548611221588_7124260326225416203_n

To see the bones of lava,
The real bone,
You must have sand

When lava bears itself to sun
Pushes through Earth
To journey toward an unknown end
Kisses ocean and
Creates a new existence,
It’s not easy

Heat, where nearness may cause death,
Steam, if breathed too deeply, might suffocate
Yet, on its own, it endures
Moves towards a new
way, a way of being,
that must release
the heat of its fervor

Settled,
As journey completes,
Then comes rest

Time to cool in ocean’s
Caress, smooth it’s roughness,
Polish sharp places of brokenness
Giving way to gentle touch,
Patience, and presence

As shards round,
Creases weave and wave
Wisdom tells its story,
Sand listens
Dusting gratitude,
And lava becomes land.

 

Author’s Note:

I attended a retreat in Hawaii a few weeks ago. It was led by Amber Kuileimailani Bonnici. It was called Creativity Unleashed 2018. Through Intentional Creativity we delved deeply into ourselves to learn more, release more, and, for me. learn a bit about painting and Shiloh Sophia‘s 13 step intentional creativity process. I am also training to be a Red Thread Guide.

It was an overwhelming few days as I had to squeeze it into my school schedule. But every minute was a treasure to be mined and celebrated.

One morning I had intended to play with our watercolor set in my journal, but we stopped on the way to the hotel at Magic Sands Beach and this poem happened instead.

28379368_10213548611381592_8989306190418953579_n

 

28782933_10213568671203075_3835398805737995462_n.jpg

MyPainting

28685785_10214328266774928_7093991755270323104_n.jpg

Creativity Unleashed 2018 Participants – Photo by Lacy Johnson Rootness

It Snowed

snowflake

It snowed this morning.

With its whipped grey sky
I remember fragile flakes
resting on his silken black fur,
heavy breath rising to
mix with the day’s offering.

I welcome blessings
of sky and land, heartbeat
and smiles. I walk on
ice slick sidewalk and
remember flakes alight
on my outstretched palm,
for just a pause,
before their exsistence
fades and I am left
gaping, ready to receive
once more.

I am thankful for…

E2A6F79C-1EBF-4B68-B868-0F3CDDDE583C

My feet
to step on Mother Earth
connecting me to her
and all that grows beneath
and rises above to meet the breath of day.

My lungs to breathe in Life.
My eyes to watch Moon
cycle in remembrance of
my fragility and fiercness.

My skin
to touch the Sun’s warmth in my heart
and know his fire burn to ash
when I must begin anew.

My nose to smell lilac and rose, pine and rain, and doggie breath.
My ears to hear crow and whispered wind, roaring waves,
and
the deep stillness of You within.

Lips and arms to hug and kiss you…
my love, my Bean, my dear sweet friends,
the children of this Earth,
each and every one of you.

You.

…..

Happy day of gratitude and joy.

May compassion be the way for this day
with gentleness and love for all – even the hard ones.

Munay. Aho. Amen.

Lexanne

Again

napo2017button2

 

Day Thirty, the End

 

Mohter River.jpg

 

I call it big water, the ocean.

It was a year ago today I walked
near crow picking out his mussel lunch
along the bight. Sand and shell
placed gingerly inside my empty coffee cup,
my way to keep a part of him,
remember he was gone.

I discover in loss
the hole, like that black round
left by moon in night when she is new,
cannot return to full as we once were.
Hollowness must replenish slowly,
in new ways, just as moon waxes crescent.

. . .

A sand-hued box tied with gossamer ribbon,
color of the growing gibbous moon.
Inside a woman sings,
Mother River, running her
song, flowing to ocean,
reminds me of my
connection here to there,
big water.

. . .

She hands me a calcite globe,
heavy, creamy yellow
as if full of moon light.
A memory stone to place inside
the blackened cavity,
to remember, to hold
in comfort, to illumine
when all seems lost.

. . .

Today I stand under
waning moon, attempt
to grasp, hear again his laughter,
catch his smile flash where sadness rested.

. . .

Our loop around that hot
bright ball tempered with
night and glowing light
that comes and goes
and returns again,
the river that runs to
kiss ocean tide and flow
to sea once more,
a broken heart mended scarred,
a refitted life begins anew,
all the rhythm of our dance.

 

Author’s Note:

To C.J. and Michael and Lisa

End

Day 28: Peace Poetry Postcard Month

IMG_2789.JPG

 

In the end, I bless you
with water from Magdalene’s cave.

I bless you with breath of life
deep within.

I bless you with laughter
from my belly.

At the end of our month
of words of peace,
I wish for you rest and joy.

In gratitude, I bless your being
as you bless the world with you.

Munay. Aho. Amen.

 

And today we come to the end of Peace Poetry Postcard Month. The practice of writing a poem a day about how I step into peace in this world has been important work.

I continue to write, but with much less frequency. However, April is National Poetry Month and I participate in National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo).

I hope you join me.

Much peace and many blessings,
Lex

On The Eve…

15965979_10210041283460586_3407921011221966964_n.jpg

I like to walk at night in the dark so I can see the stars. They give me hope. Or, I walk in the morning well before the sun rises, before the creamsicle glow announces a new day.

In those hours I feel safe surrounded by that which I cannot see, but trust my dear beast will protect me if need arises. I want to feel the chill and be enveloped in the vast deepness and blazing silence where truth is hidden in the promise of hope. You know hope, those little twinkling lights I can only see when it’s dark.

Tonight on our walk I held a small stone to my chest, next to my heart where the energy of that swirling green chakra resides, the entry into Spirit, my Love. And I asked for all my fears deep within the darkness of my soul, all my hates that tighten my chest, all the hurts that have been hurled at me and captured – I asked that this simple stone be the chariot, the wagon, the wings to take this pain and hold it for a moment.

I walked with my mantram soothing my mind and giving time for those unwelcome guests to surround my tiny rock and attach themselves.

Under the skies sprinkled with hopes, I released the stone to Earth Mother. She will welcome that teeny piece of her back home again. She will do what she does best. Pachamama will take what no longer serves me, that which I have allowed to hold me in its grip, and she will cleanse it. Those hurts and pains and fears will become new soil in which to plant. Our sweet Mother will take them and bury them deep within her for transformation.

And in the promised spring, there will be richness to welcome new growth and life and beauty.

 
I pledge…

I will trust Spirit and give myself fully.

I will be a voice for beauty and song to fill the world with hope.

I will honor life and use my actions, everything I do, to uplift and offer more hope.

I will walk on Pachamama with grace and gentleness in gratitude for all I have been given.

I will live simply in work and play and all I do to keep my heart free and clear to receive more so I can be a watercourse for Spirit back into the world.

 

This day and everyday
may I speak impeccably.
May I work with honesty.
May I make art with a joyful heart.
May I forgive with ease and humility.
And may I love without exception.

This night and every night,
I bless you all and
all who pass this way
with peace and compassion
in great gratitude.

Munay,
Lexanne

In Thanksgiving

DSCN3871In the hush of early morning light,
step into this new day with a grateful heart.

Remember you are our Beloved’s gift to the world.
Don’t be afraid to share you.

There is a smile or helping hand, laughter or a wink,
a word of encouragement or a hug not released
too soon, that is needed today.

You are what love is. Release your glorious self
into this broken world to heal, even if what you tender
seems so small so as to not make a difference.

It does.

In the rush of this day, amidst piles of food, in games
won and lost, emotions bumping into attitudes,
reach inside to your gentling, where sweetness
and gratefulness are paired.

Be thankful for you, see the gift you are, only then
can we be fully grateful for one another.