Category: spirituality

A Flower Knows

Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt challenges us to move beyond our comfort zone.  It involves selecting a photograph, and then finding a poem in a language we do not speak, and writing a ‘translation’ assuming the poem is about the photograph we chose.

The photograph is from my own collection.  The poem is from a Norwegian poet, Gro Dahle (selected randomly).  Here is the original:

Det er ikke alltid
like lett å være pave
sier paven
Han gjemmer seg under bordet
og roper hunden til seg
Der sitter han til det er mørkt
og alle har sluttet å lete
NÃ¥r alt er stille
i Vatikanet
kryper han fram
fra under duken
og gir hunden
rent vann i skålen
SÃ¥ spiser han bokstavskjeks
ved vinduet

 ***

Here is my ‘translation’, which is in essence is only a mirroring of the structure, as I do not speak Norwegian:

There is life here
even as a flower wilts
while wilting
has surrendered self to rebirth
is not burdened by self
there is no room for ego here
nor does merit hold space
death is stillness
finality
has no expectation
is mere passage
a silent pause
before the next breath
that violent push to blossom
live again.  
 

(Aside:  I went back after writing this to see the actual translation of the original, which of course, has nothing to do with my imaginary concoction.  I discovered a delightful poem, that intrigued me to read more.  To see the original and its translation visit:  http://www.poetryinternationalweb.net/pi/site/poem/item/22704/auto/0/It-isnt-always)

Thank you to Maureen Thorson for hosting and providing such interesting prompts.

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On Nature

How is it that a tree can stir my soul, so?
Yet, set amongst the Douglas firs –
an orchestra of giants, the reassurance
of green towering and proud – the music
of my soul is nothing less than symphonic.

How is it that the sky can speak to me?
No words to convey its vastness, yet,
it breathes new life into empty spaces,
whispers promises, ignites a hope
synonymous only with its expanse.

How is it that a body of water – be it
serene, flowing, or turbulent, can tug
at the corners of my emotional well,
create a longing for the unknowable,
toss me from my bed of complacency?

And how does a single flower, growing
wild, crack this shell of indifference –
the determination to blossom despite
harshness of surroundings – instill such
inspiration, motivate me to rejoice?

(Day four of the NaPoWriMo challenges us to use nouns in our writing.  The suggested essay is a good read, so you might want to check it out. )

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Retreat

Immersed in the spiritual –
not yet fully present –
participating,
considering
new beginnings,
openings

so much easier
to go back to sleep
leave the living
to the younger
more energetic

generations
surpassing me
clued in to
technology,
modern nuances

yet, even they
slumber, lulled
by a confidence
I too once donned,
before immersing
myself in the spiritual.

Don’t Go Back To Sleep – Rumi

(Rumi’s words have been on my mind lately, so I’ve decided to share them for today’s post.)

The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.
Don’t go back to sleep.

You must ask for what you really want.
Don’t go back to sleep.

People are going back and forth across the door sill
Where the two worlds touch.

The door is round and open.
Don’t go back to sleep.

 

Walking Meditation

Under the umbrella
of green-leafed branches,
I pray for insight, for healing

With the river to guide me,
I walk, mindful of nature,
listening, heart open

As I breathe, I acknowledge
limitlessness of sky, life-sustaining
forces of earth, sacred steps

I sacrifice this separateness
to honour the whole, make room
for spirit, numinous connection.

Mountain

I navigate sharp twists,
confront rough trails,
steep slopes, swoon
at dizzying heights,
feel my frailty –

this path is for rugged,
mountain-born,
those accustomed
to the sheer immutable
force of  rock –

and yet, my lens
tells a different tale –
speaks of shadows
shifting, witnesses
mutations of colour

describes a giant
whose facade reflects
the day’s passing light,
demonstrates compassion
in earth’s stillness.

 

Open To Healing

Open to healing –
delve into the subconscious
create a space for inspiration.

Ignore limited capabilities –
no offerings are meager –
enter with pure intentions.

Embrace new starts
have faith in ability
be spurred into action.

The Self holds the answers,
creative expression is the key.
No expertise required.

(I first wrote this in August of 2015, a year and a half after being diagnosed with ME/CFS. This was likely the lowest point of my disease – it is encouraging to look back and realize how strong my spirit was back then despite my condition.)

 

The River

There’s a river runs between us,
you and I; our thoughts, like tears,
are liquid carried by the current.

But you, and I,
we stand on the banks, oblivious,
ignoring the connection,
proudly touting our individualism.

Still the river flows
and all you’ve suffered
and all I’ve suffered
or dreamed, or imagined, or hoped
flows with it.

Step into the water with me,
feel our connection;
do not be afraid
for it is sacred –

wade deeper and know
you are not alone
for I am here
in this river
that runs between us.

(Originally posted in October, 2014. Edited here.)