The Ripple Effect

“…I know in my bones the ache to find the words, I know, as well, the ache of uncertainty about which words.” --Scott Cairns

Since my return from Ireland on October 26, I have been struggling with this “which” of words. On the heels of one of my most incredible life experiences, I was greeted only moments after arrival in Seattle with the news that my beloved beautiful boy was in jail, charged with a very serious offense. Needless to say, I was (and am) devastated.

In both events (Ireland & 'the news'), my world has been rocked. I sit and wait during this season of Advent to see where the ripples might land. Can that be enough? Yes – for me, for now – the waiting must be enough. Still…I ache to find the words, so today I share a few regarding “the crime.”

I am ever so grateful no one was physically harmed – no death – no hospitalizations – no rape. But, laws were broken. Stupid, careless, foolish mistakes were made and now a young life – my son’s – will be imprisoned for as many as four years. They say it could have been much worse – 15 years or more. Can I be grateful? Perhaps later.

No one was physically harmed… the words linger and I am struck with the ripple effect, because the emotional toll is high. I can’t begin to process the damage for myself, so how can I weigh the cost to the rest of my family or anyone else? The ripple is high. It is exhausting. Like the waves of the ocean, even the gentle ones leave me with a queasy feeling if I stand or float in them too long. And, then there are the rogue waves that come out of nowhere and pick you up and thrash you to the ocean floor where all equilibrium is lost. Which way is up? Where is the bottom?

I once danced with a rogue wave in Hawaii. Even after I was safely out of the water and had survived the experience, I could not accurately assess the damage. Removing my swimsuit, the sand came out of nooks and crannies I didn’t know existed – little grains of evidence that the wave had had its way with me. Later, I walked by a mirror after showering and caught sight of a giant bruise disguised as an enormous eggplant tattooed on my butt. I don’t remember how long it took before I could sit comfortably again or when the ugly mark finally faded away.

Today, I have more questions than answers – many of them surrounding this season of Advent, as well as the circumstances of my life. It’s odd, but there is a simple peace in knowing that today waiting can be enough. I am grateful for this space. I have struggled with the words and will continue to do so. Your loving witness alongside makes the waiting a little easier.

Blessings to you and yours.

bermuda waves ©h3images.com

My Zen Kitty or...

...10 things I love about Aslan

Aslan is our adopted kitty who came to live with us in September. He has quickly made himself at home and won over the hearts of all who live with him. Today I share just a few of his endearments.

1. His coat is so thick and cuddly, he really does look and feel like a miniature lion.

2. He has nearly perfected the dance of a circus dog - spinning on his hind legs while waiting for a treat.

3. I adore the way he makes my husband laugh when they play together. Hubby tempts him with a peacock feather and Aslan repeatedly makes flying leaps into the air.

4. He is a true Zen master focusing solely on the now. I shall need to study him more closely!

5. When I am in the kitchen, he stretches his paws up the counter as if to ask “What’s up?”

6. He is quite the conversationalist when he decides it is dinner time. We share several words together as he not-so-patiently waits for me to get his food down to the floor. His meows sound much like Please – either that or Hurry Up!

7. He greets me at the door when I come home and watches curiously through the window when we are outside.

8. He seems to know when I need extra attention and sticks close by my side. One of his favorite spots is the middle of my chest. His fluffy tail is a great nose tickler.

9. When he decides I have been on the computer too long, he sits next to my chair. When I acknowledge him, he hops into my lap, onto the desk and proceeds to drape himself across the keyboard.

10. He is the kitty version of my golden dog, Curry, sharing unconditional love with me.

Do you have a loved one (furry or otherwise) who deserves a little tribute? There's no better time than now to share!

Lady Wisdom

Ancient wisdom greets me with bright eyes and wrinkled skin.
She comes with grayed hair, radiating golden light
like sunflowers on a bright summer day.
Wisdom comes in the platinum locks of a precious child,
In the single tear of a caged young man.
She sits on my heart until I feel her weight;
Until it sprouts wings and takes flight, leaving me lighter than air.

Wisdom has roots that reach deep into the ground,
wrapping around the stones of my heart.
She is blue sky and flowing water –
streams mingling with tears of sorrow and joy –
pouring into an ocean of emotion
where one drop cannot be distinguished from another.

She greets me with her kind eyes – her warm heart.
She holds me with her gaze and promises she will never leave.
I’m always here, she says.
I am in the bloom of a single white blossom shared by a friend;
In the candle flames throwing light into the darkness;
The song carried in the air sings my tune.
I feel her within the chill of my bare toes;
the warmth and taste of coffee through my lips;
The brilliant pink and gold splashed across a raw canvas.

Wisdom greets me everywhere I be.
The ticking of a clock; the whisper of the breeze; the sounds of silence.
She is there when I open my eyes; focus with my ears;
touch with my hand; inhale through my nose;
know in my heart.
My soul cries out for her and she meets me – unfailingly.
Always there. Always present.
Wisdom greets me with hair of gray and crown of golden sunflowers.
Child. Maiden. Mother. Crone. Lady that she is.

I Reach and...

“I stretch out my hands to you; my soul thirsts for you like a parched land.”
--Psalm 143:6

Rolling waves of parched land spread out before me.
Dry. Thirsty. Barren.
My soul connects.
Spirit is present in the midst of my own desert.
Thirst and longing.
I stretch my hand.
I lift my eyes.
I feel your presence.

I see it through the window of a plane.
The photo of a tree.
The creating of a card.
The quiet of my heart.
I engage with the mystery.
Perhaps only I can name it.
Perhaps.
Still, I know I am connected.
Blue sky.
Clouds drifting over.
Those who have gone before?
Yes, I am connected,
even in my desolation.

I close my eyes and see the barren landscape.
It is magnificent in its beauty.
I hear your name in the sky and
see it written across the lands.
I am created in your image.
Earth. Fire. Water. Air.
All right there.
Beside me and around me.
The fullness of your majesty.
The fullness of my life.
I stretch out my hands for you; my soul thirsts for you like a parched land.

I reach…
and you are there.

photo taken just before landing in Walla Walla 11.24.09

Stone in My Heart

On a quiet day in Glendolough, I curled up in an abandoned room filled with extra chairs, tables and a perfect crimson loveseat by the window. For the first time in the trip, I placed my i-pod earphones into my ears, set the music to shuffle and listened to the conversation that played out between the Universe, the still small voice, God and me.

Much of the poem here is made from lyrics that showed up “randomly” that day. I journaled as I listened, and the result turned into the conversation I call “Stone in My Heart.”

Abbey of the Arts gives us a great invitation this week to engage in poetry and gratitude. I am grateful for so much – including the stone in my heart. ☺ So, pop on over to the Abbey and share your version of gratitude. Here's mine:

She gets unruly with things she don’t wanna do.
Stuck believing her dreams will never come true.
So, Baby, how’d you sleep last night?
Stop hanging on. It’ll be alright.
Let go of the stone in your heart.

But I don’t understand the touch of your hand.
You might think it’s easy being me.
Just stand still and look pretty.
Don’t wanna hurt anymore.
Can’t let go of the stone in my heart.

In every moment there’s a reason to carry on.
Sweet love flowing almost every night,
I’ve never seen such a beautiful sight.
Life is more than memories.
Let go of the stone in your heart.

Sweet surrender’s all I have to give.
Stop hanging on. It’s time to let go.
Dance, Baby, dance – child, wild & free –
Unruly one, come dance with me.
Embracing the stone in your heart.

photos taken at NewGrange, Ireland 10.09 ©lucy