{"id":5413,"date":"2017-11-08T14:56:28","date_gmt":"2017-11-08T22:56:28","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.lifeinfullcolor.com\/?p=5413"},"modified":"2017-11-08T17:39:08","modified_gmt":"2017-11-09T01:39:08","slug":"november-8-2017-like-poet-one-place-time","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.lifeinfullcolor.com\/dev\/life-stories\/november-8-2017-like-poet-one-place-time\/","title":{"rendered":"November 8, 2017 &#8211; One place at a time"},"content":{"rendered":"<div class=\"fcbkbttn_buttons_block\" id=\"fcbkbttn_left\"><div class=\"fcbkbttn_button\">\n                            <a href=\"https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/\" target=\"_blank\">\n                                <img decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/www.lifeinfullcolor.com\/dev\/wp-content\/plugins\/facebook-button-plugin\/images\/standard-facebook-ico.png\" alt=\"Fb-Button\" \/>\n                            <\/a>\n                        <\/div><div class=\"fcbkbttn_like \"><fb:like href=\"https:\/\/www.lifeinfullcolor.com\/dev\/life-stories\/november-8-2017-like-poet-one-place-time\/\" action=\"like\" colorscheme=\"light\" layout=\"standard\"  width=\"225px\" size=\"small\"><\/fb:like><\/div><\/div><div id=\"attachment_5419\" style=\"width: 600px\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\"><a href=\"http:\/\/www.lifeinfullcolor.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/11\/this-moment-rose.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" aria-describedby=\"caption-attachment-5419\" class=\"wp-image-5419\" src=\"http:\/\/www.lifeinfullcolor.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/11\/this-moment-rose-1024x657.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"590\" height=\"379\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.lifeinfullcolor.com\/dev\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/11\/this-moment-rose-1024x657.jpg 1024w, https:\/\/www.lifeinfullcolor.com\/dev\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/11\/this-moment-rose-300x192.jpg 300w, https:\/\/www.lifeinfullcolor.com\/dev\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/11\/this-moment-rose-600x385.jpg 600w, https:\/\/www.lifeinfullcolor.com\/dev\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/11\/this-moment-rose-768x493.jpg 768w, https:\/\/www.lifeinfullcolor.com\/dev\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/11\/this-moment-rose-200x128.jpg 200w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 590px) 100vw, 590px\" \/><\/a><p id=\"caption-attachment-5419\" class=\"wp-caption-text\">I may never paint this rose, but I was drawn to its strange beauty and the way it was lit by the last-of-the-day sunlight. Seconds after I took this, the sun sunk behind the trees for the night.<\/p><\/div>\n<p>Listen to this post:<\/p>\n<audio class=\"wp-audio-shortcode\" id=\"audio-5413-1\" preload=\"none\" style=\"width: 100%;\" controls=\"controls\"><source type=\"audio\/mpeg\" src=\"http:\/\/www.lifeinfullcolor.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/11\/20171108-Post.m4a?_=1\" \/><a href=\"http:\/\/www.lifeinfullcolor.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/11\/20171108-Post.m4a\">http:\/\/www.lifeinfullcolor.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/11\/20171108-Post.m4a<\/a><\/audio>\n<p>I wasn\u2019t raised with poetry.\u00a0 Though, we did have Mother Goose and I remember reading Robert Louis Stevenson\u2019s \u201cA Child\u2019s Garden of Verses\u201d at a friend\u2019s house.\u00a0 But apart from that, Mom read us story books.\u00a0 I had two friends from middle childhood through high school who loved poetry.\u00a0 Whenever they would read or write poems I knew I didn\u2019t belong.\u00a0 My family was into science, knowledge of the natural world and making stuff.\u00a0 It wasn\u2019t until I was going to the Fairfax Community Church in my late 30\u2019s that I discovered poets and their poetry:\u00a0 Rumi, Hafiz, Mary Oliver, David Whyte among others.\u00a0 I still cannot imagine <em>ever<\/em> attempting to write any poetry, but I have come to appreciate the insight, richness and just the simple pleasure it brings.<\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/onbeing.org\/projects\/poetry-radio-project\/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">On Being\u2019s Poetry Radio Project page<\/a> starts with this:<\/p>\n<p><em>Poetry, David Whyte says, is language against which we have no defense.<\/em><br \/>\n<em> We inhabit a moment in which defended language is practically all we know, and so we are re-learning our basic human need of poetry to flourish.<\/em><\/p>\n<p>This feels like my life.\u00a0 Defended language was practically all <em>I<\/em> knew as long as I was certain that my rational mind could get me through anything.\u00a0 As my path showed me otherwise and took me deeper into the undefended parts of me, the gift in poetry was a welcome discovery.<\/p>\n<p>My own words aren\u2019t flowing in great measure today, so I thought I\u2019d share with you some of my favorites.\u00a0 These poems are loved by many \u2013 so they are likely to be very familiar to some of you.\u00a0 For me they are worth reading over and over, so take them as you wish.\u00a0 Here goes\u2026<\/p>\n<p>For those of us who feel compelled to go around being \u201cgood\u201d all the dang time, permission to simply love what the \u201csoft animal of our bodies\u201d love is nothing less than amazing.\u00a0 Thank you, Mary Oliver, for this and SO many other poems that accompany our souls through life.<\/p>\n<p><em>Wild Geese \u2013 by Mary Oliver<\/em><\/p>\n<p><em>You do not have to be good.<\/em><br \/>\n<em> You do not have to walk on your knees<\/em><br \/>\n<em> for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.<\/em><br \/>\n<em> You only have to let the soft animal of your body<\/em><br \/>\n<em> love what it loves.<\/em><br \/>\n<em> Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.<\/em><br \/>\n<em> Meanwhile the world goes on.<\/em><br \/>\n<em> Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain<\/em><br \/>\n<em> are moving across the landscapes,<\/em><br \/>\n<em> over the prairies and the deep trees,<\/em><br \/>\n<em> the mountains and the rivers.<\/em><br \/>\n<em> Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,<\/em><br \/>\n<em> are heading home again.<\/em><br \/>\n<em> Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,<\/em><br \/>\n<em> the world offers itself to your imagination,<\/em><br \/>\n<em> calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting&#8211;<\/em><br \/>\n<em> over and over announcing your place<\/em><br \/>\n<em> in the family of things.<\/em><\/p>\n<p>I\u2019m so taken by the fact that this next one was written by a man.\u00a0 This poem had me take <em>as my very own<\/em> the word \u201cloveliness.\u201d\u00a0 And, though I never nursed any children, I can still viscerally relate to the experience of lying in the muck, having those around me feed off of me \u2013 a state that feels so far from anything close to loveliness.\u00a0 This poem is a benediction, a blessing, to those of us living in a body that is designed to nurture others first.\u00a0 As you read it, imagine being that sow.<\/p>\n<p><em>Saint Francis and the Sow \u2013 by Galway Kinnell<\/em><\/p>\n<p><em>The bud<\/em><br \/>\n<em> stands for all things,<\/em><br \/>\n<em> even for those things that don\u2019t flower,<\/em><br \/>\n<em> for everything flowers, from within, of self-blessing;<\/em><br \/>\n<em> though sometimes it is necessary<\/em><br \/>\n<em> to reteach a thing its loveliness,<\/em><br \/>\n<em> to put a hand on the brow<\/em><br \/>\n<em> of the flower<\/em><br \/>\n<em> and retell it in words and in touch<\/em><br \/>\n<em> it is lovely<\/em><br \/>\n<em> until it flowers again from within, of self-blessing;<\/em><br \/>\n<em> as Saint Francis<\/em><br \/>\n<em> put his hand on the creased forehead<\/em><br \/>\n<em> of the sow, and told her in words and in touch<\/em><br \/>\n<em> blessings of the earth on the sow, and the sow<\/em><br \/>\n<em> began remembering all down her thick length,<\/em><br \/>\n<em> from the earthen snout all the way<\/em><br \/>\n<em> through the fodder and slops to the spiritual curl of the tail,<\/em><br \/>\n<em> from the hard spininess spiked out from the spine<\/em><br \/>\n<em> down through the great broken heart<\/em><br \/>\n<em> to the blue milken dreaminess spurting and shuddering<\/em><br \/>\n<em> from the fourteen teats into the fourteen mouths sucking<\/em><br \/>\n<em> and blowing beneath them:<\/em><br \/>\n<em> the long, perfect loveliness of sow.<\/em><\/p>\n<p>This last one has come to me more recently.\u00a0 When I discovered it, I related it to my friend Vicki and her courage to go to Africa and help women survivors of sexual violence.\u00a0 I\u2019ve decided that one doesn\u2019t have to go that far to be brave.\u00a0 I\u2019m claiming this poem for what I\u2019m up to as well.\u00a0 I\u2019ll have more to say about how this is very soon.<\/p>\n<p><em>Mameen &#8211; by David Whyte<\/em><\/p>\n<p><em>Be infinitesimal under that sky,<\/em><br \/>\n<em> a creature even the sailing hawk misses,<\/em><br \/>\n<em> a wraith among the rocks where the mist parts slowly.<\/em><br \/>\n<em> Recall the way mere mortals are overwhelmed by circumstance,<\/em><br \/>\n<em> how great reputations dissolve with infirmity<\/em><br \/>\n<em> and how you, in particular,<\/em><br \/>\n<em> live a hairsbreadth from losing everyone you hold dear.<\/em><\/p>\n<p><em>Then, look back down the path as if seeing your past<\/em><br \/>\n<em> and then south over the hazy blue coast<\/em><br \/>\n<em> as if present to a wide future,<\/em><br \/>\n<em> recall the way you are all possibilities you can see<\/em><br \/>\n<em> and how you live best as an appreciator of horizons<\/em><br \/>\n<em> whether you reach them or not,<\/em><br \/>\n<em> admit that once you have got up from your chair<\/em><br \/>\n<em> and opened the door,<\/em><br \/>\n<em> once you have walked out into the clean air<\/em><br \/>\n<em> toward that edge<\/em><br \/>\n<em> and taken the path up high<\/em><br \/>\n<em> beyond the ordinary<\/em><br \/>\n<em> you have become the privileged and the pilgrim<\/em><br \/>\n<em> the one who will tell the story and the one,<\/em><br \/>\n<em> coming back from the mountain,<\/em><br \/>\n<em> who helped to make it.<\/em><\/p>\n<p>Every other Wednesday morning at 7am I am part of a conference call with women from my coaching group.\u00a0 I <em>love<\/em> these calls; they are less structured than our official coaching calls, but every bit as supportive.\u00a0 We are changed by being seen and gotten in the way we do for each other.\u00a0 But today, so that I could make an appointment at 8am, I needed to get exercise with Bo at the same time as our call.\u00a0 I\u2019ve called in with my cellphone and ear buds while I\u2019m out with Bo plenty of times before.\u00a0 But today a voice in me said:\u00a0 <em>do one thing at a time<\/em>, be <em>one place at a time<\/em>.\u00a0 I, like most women, am an accomplished multitasker, but I still cannot offer the kind of attention to Bo, to the patch of Earth I\u2019m walking through, even to the sensations of my own body, if I\u2019m listening and conversing with people who are thousands of miles away.<\/p>\n<p>This voice may have been spawned from having read several poems before going to bed last night.\u00a0 Reading poetry has me see how poets must pay attention \u2013 how they must be in a particular state of receptivity in order to perceive with such sensitivity.\u00a0 It\u2019s the same with painting.\u00a0 And I\u2019ve not been honoring this.\u00a0 I\u2019ve been splitting my attention with my painting time for a long while.\u00a0 It used to be that all I did was listen to music while I painted. But I\u2019ve been listening to talking \u2013 radio programs, audiobooks, people on the phone \u2013 as I\u2019ve been making my art.\u00a0 I\u2019ve claimed that painting is my meditation, it\u2019s my spiritual practice.\u00a0 But the way I\u2019ve been doing it, it hasn\u2019t been feeling like spiritual nourishment.<\/p>\n<p>Doesn\u2019t it seem like time and the pace of life is accelerating?\u00a0 And that there is ever more clamoring for our attention?\u00a0 In the face of this, I\u2019m wondering what difference it would make if I went back to only listening to music as I painted \u2013 for a while at least.\u00a0 Just writing that has one part of me rise up in protest (when else will I ingest the contents of the books I never have time read???), and another is feeling so\u2026 very\u2026 relieved.\u00a0 I also see there are so many other ways I might re-think the multi-tasking I do on a regular basis:\u00a0 eating and driving, eating and reading the paper, reading email on the fly\u2026 it goes on.<\/p>\n<p>I\u2019m not promising that this will turn me into a poet \u2013 but &#8211; I\u2019m a big believer in listening to &#8211; and heeding &#8211; the voices inside us that rise up out of the blue with a request or a new direction to take.\u00a0 These voices are our souls speaking to us.\u00a0 As Donna has told me over and over again:\u00a0 to not hear them is one thing, but to hear them and ignore them is to live three rungs below hell.\u00a0 I\u2019m all for attending to my soul <em>before<\/em> finding myself there &#8211; as much as I possibly can.\u00a0 You too?<\/p>\n<p>With my love,<br \/>\nCara<\/p>\n ","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Listen to this post: I wasn\u2019t raised with poetry.\u00a0 Though, we did have Mother Goose and I remember reading Robert Louis Stevenson\u2019s \u201cA Child\u2019s Garden of Verses\u201d at a friend\u2019s house.\u00a0 But apart from that, Mom read us story books.\u00a0 I had two friends from middle childhood through high school who loved poetry.\u00a0 Whenever they [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"_exactmetrics_skip_tracking":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_active":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_note":"","_exactmetrics_sitenote_category":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[29],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-5413","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-life-stories"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO plugin v24.2 - 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