Message in a bottle for July 14th – “living in the present”
the strawberries are delicious
and the cut on my tongue throbs with their acid sweetness
yet I take another one into my mouth
we walked in the drizzle
engaged in conversation and oblivious to the fact we were getting damp
I just needed talk,
narrating, caustic at times and flippant,
walking the keen edge of my self doubt,
not wanting to feel despair
so poking fun at myself,
taking a breath to express
oh well, moving on
so thankful for friends
who will walk with me in the rain
We all crave relevance,
to be noticed,
and sometimes admired.
How do you let people in your life know
they are relevant,
and often admiredby you?
I finished a book today that had me pondering my growing up and the way I have defined myself over time.
Did I define myself by what I wasn’t? Comparing myself to my siblings, friends, my parents? Do I do the same thing now?
When I experiment with sentences that begin with “I am not..,” I feel confined by a sense of deficit or loss.
But when I use “I am” statements, I definitely sense more possibility born out of being a starting place rather than an ending.
The hard part is that it is easy for me to jump to the I-am-nots faster than the I-ams.
Try it out – what statements come to mind for you?
The book is The Weird Sisters, by Eleanor Brown
do you remember when you first learned about trust – learned the meaning of it, experienced it, exercised it?
I know I was trusting people long before I actually knew what it meant. I trusted my parents, my teachers, my Girl Scout leaders, my siblings, my friends.
And then there came a point in time when someone put their trust in me and the world flipped on its side and I finally really knew what trust meant! I was on the other side of the worm hole and trust was a real thing.
How often do you think about trust now – now that you are older and take so much trust for granted?
I love being made aware of trust – of the faith I really do have in others and in institutions and in myself.
i resisted for a long time
my reluctance just didn’t make sense anymore
i gave in…
i admitted i needed help
i’m not sure which i was resisting more:
listening to and responding to advice
or the vulnerability of needing it
I wrote a poem a few days ago about feeling bitter.
My mom called to ask if everything was all right. “You sounded down in the dumps.”
“No, mom, it’s just that I occasionally have negative thoughts.”
“Well I guess I do too but I don’t write about them.”
These words from my mom imply an unspoken question: “Why do you write about bad feelings?” More to the point: “Why do you publish poems about your bad feelings?”
Blogs are easy places to rant and when I started by first blog, it was because I wanted to rant. It still happens occasionally. But mostly I want to write and self expression is a deep source. I don’t need to spit out all the details of how it came to be I had those bitter feelings that day.
Writing allows me the opportunity to turn the question back on myself – turn to wonder as Parker Palmer prods us to do. What did the events of that day teach me about myself?
Bitterness came to call today
why on this day with such blue in the sky
and such a happy disposition in the air?
A little shadow of darkness,
images of Winnie the Pooh strutting about,
“tut, tut, looks like rain!”
but it doesn’t! and it shouldn’t! and it wouldn’t have!
except for this little niggling of doubt,
whisper of worry
“Out! Out! Damn spot!”
How dare you insinuate yourself into my life this way!
Quick! Light the candle!
Now! Get the broom!
Shuffle shuffle, slide
and allemande left and allemande right,
dosido your partner
all the way home tonight!