The most beautiful stories are often the ones we never expected, and maybe even hoped wouldn’t happen. The ones that are odd, embarrassing, confusing and heartbreaking to live, and leave us answerless, bathing in wonder. I have one to share with you tonight.
I’m 15 years old, laying on my back in a giant pile of snow, the piercing silence fading me into winter twilight. My dog is sitting peacefully next to me, because as we all know, dogs get it. They won’t break the pact. My slow breathing and crackling nylon jacket are my only true companions.
This is not my first taste of ecstacy, but it is one of the deepest yet. I’ve been encountering God in all the places I never expected to find anything, since I saw Him blow by me on a warm Florida breeze when I was just 5, a girl in her pajamas, looking for the mailman.
I found Him in the bottom of the swimming pool (and the top), in the mist hanging over it on cool winter nights, and in the steady rain falling into it on grey afternoons. I found Him in lizards, magnolias, cats, and muddy rain puddles in the driveway (especially the splashy, messy ones). It’s the only story of my life, really.
I was 10 years old when life threw it’s first curveball – a move from Florida paradise (and the only home I’d ever known), to – upstate New York? I mean, who does that?
This also meant leaving behind the only real friend I’d ever had, a strawberry headed, resentfully freckled boy, John. I can tell you, Costco trips just aren’t the same when you’re the only one playing make believe down the endless aisles of boxed goods. Life felt quite unbearably lonely and lifeless for a time…except for the ecstacy I found in riding my horse over the rolling hills, endless summer afternoons (because the length of day actually changes when you don’t live on the equator), in drippingly beautiful sunsets oozing between the blinds in my little sanctuary, and other such wonders as found me in the emptiness.
This is the part where things get strange. You see, I made some deals with God in my life, like that I wouldn’t get married, have twin babies or do something as despicable as, you know, fall in love. Ew.
I got married at 19. Had twin babies at 26. And fell in love at 30. Very messy, all out of order, and definitely not possible – I mean come on God, we HAD this conversation – why the nonsense?
But of course I can’t actually blame myself when I found every moment of numinous bliss I’d ever experienced, looking back at me through the eyes of another human being. What followed was basically inevitable. In my own defense, I very faithfully did not let myself consciously feel anything, until it hit me 9 months after meeting this person that the most awful thing had happened quite without my permission. I was in love.
The 5 year old in me stills says “EWWEWWW!!!” when I admit it, but nonetheless it stands that at the end of the day my blood is red, and I’m a girl just like the other ones. This is the kind of stuff that goes down on earth, I’m told.
The thing that is so typical of this Wild God of mine, is that this accidental brush stroke on the canvas of life became the most prime evidence that this Divine I’d been in love with since forever, was real. That all the dreams in my little mystic heart were based on something real, something true. Shock over took me for days each of the few times I shared with him, my cells remembering a place I’ve been weaving in and out of since before memory was.
Of course in the way things often go, I left the whole experience broken, broken open to a much bigger life that I could have possibly pictured prior. Two and half years later my whole being still bleeds with longing for whatever that is that I now know actually does exist – IN HUMAN FORM – but I’m still really not sure, what for.
I’ve prayed so many times from the belly of that ache, to be able to experience the kind of touchable, flesh covered hope I mingled with those few precious days, again. In any form. But mainly in the form I had experienced it in because I’m human, and we often ask for things as we know them. Whether we’re meant to have them that way is a story I don’t know the answer to.
After months of this cycle of praying, longing, and letting go (while going through some of the most hellish experiences I’ve had, extra thirsty for evidence that God was still around), one day I had the same feeling of imminence I used to have before I would bump into Walking Hope. About 30 minutes later in the grocery store check out line, I caught a carbon copy of Hope looking at me out of the corner of his eye.
Because life is a funny thing, Mr. Carbon’s face mask fell off long enough for me to return to that state of cellular shock, feeling like I was experiencing the Real Thing. I ended up falling behind him in the line of dutiful Costco receipt holders, studying his hands, hair, and height, trying to figure out what was happening. Even after finding that we had parked nearly nose to nose, and following the beat that was drifting out his windows to a nearby intersection, I failed at at seeing the sense in it, and went on to have a very normal Sunday.
Two weeks later, it’s a muddled snowy night in the no man’s land of life’s present curve in the road. I’m checking out at Costco again with my kids, and in this beautiful alchemy of memory, I look back at that moment and feel so deeply full of hope for my life. Real, elusive, right here, right now…hope. A profound sense that everything will be okay. And I think to myself – I live in a world so reckless that a certain skeleton, with dead cells that curve a certain way and very straight nose with a calm demeanor and hands that look like home, can restore hope for my ENTIRE LIFE.
And I began to wonder who has ever looked at me, listened to my story, or maybe saw heaven in my daughter’s eyes, and felt the same thing. That something so trivial as an appearance, a face, some shapes and cells that hide an eternal spirit of it’s own design…could remind someone of the very goodness of all that is. What a beautiful, mysterious, careless and endlessly attentive world this is! How strange and glorious!
And once more, like a current under the ocean itself, I begin again. Full of hope.
The Journey of Her
Blue irises
Swaying under
A floating crystal sky
Reflecting back to me as I lounge here
Next to the sun
Swimming in the pool
She’s so pretty
Dancing every impossible way
Through it’s depths
Mesmerizing my warm body
Into a deep trance
I find you everywhere
Gilding my Colorado twilight
Sparkling through the birchs
And oaks, thick with hawks
Burnished crows
Cloaking my neighborhood in
Brilliant, blinding night
Swimming like the sun
In my own belly
Wild, free, never out of tune
Always in rhythm
Always 3 steps ahead
Of my eyes
And mind
Time is a joke to you
And your laughter echos
In clouds streaked across my afternoons
The whole world is play dough
To your glimmering hands
You are every secret passage way
And every gowned girl with fire in her eyes
Beckoning me out of my cowardly
Proper
Hallways
Into an incisive
Knowing
And when I side step
Your hounding seduction
It lassos my neck with rage
Chokes me with grief
Freezes my shoulders
In an icy grip
The light goes out of the air itself
The darkness fills with blood
The trees are stolen
By a malevolent wind
The underworld
Pours into
My ears
Holiness is forgotten
Like a lost sock in the dust
Panicking, I blow trust
Faith
Repentance
Tears of sorrow
And lioness love
As hard as I can
Into my open chest
A flicker rises
Hope
Returns
Magic brushes the cobwebs
From my eyes
And tends to my gaunt and sunken
Ribs
Fills me with
Space
“build anew”
She whispers
Warm honey, on the driest of
Throats
Splitting mercy
Divine Mother
I Miss You
I don’t want to be stingy
I also don’t want to say it
Out loud
But I need to write these
Experiences
Some where other than
The underside of my skin
It was freedom is what it was
Even though that makes no
Sense
Even to me
I miss our
Conversations
If that’s what you call a day
Of putting your mind in an
Adventure park
No lines
Everything is free
After a life time of living in
1s and 0s
Trying to read hieroglyphs
There was a real person standing right
Here
And my cells have been speaking this language
All of eternity
Home
Is what that felt like
I miss learning from you
You taught me all the things
No one else could
Stuff I needed
To learn how to breathe freely in
This world
I have you to thank
For everything that matters in my life
Now
I don’t think you care
But I do
I stopped talking after
You
I don’t feel like it anymore
It’s pointless
And that’s okay
The silence understands
And I do too
That the realest stages
The truest stories
Play out in the four chambers
Of a quiet heart
Enough
The wind whips around my face
Can she hear my cries
Over it’s
Lawless mayhem?
I have forsaken
Confusion
And it’s aching consumption
Of life that is meant to be mine
She answers back through
The whispers of the storm
No longer raging
Still it carries on
I give struggle over
To the iron grasp of this gail
And stand firm in dignity
Allowing it to melt the mud from my face
My back
My shoes and feet
I smile at the sting of bare
Naked
Being
On my face
I let it bite my arms
Chill my spine
And warm my feet
Devour my falsities
If I cannot find Enough
I will simply
Become Her
Ode to Enough
They told me
I would find you
In the arms of
Other people
In being loved
Approved
“Good”
In the reflection of their pupils
Yet the only place I’ve ever found you
Was where I wasn’t looking
In pain
In grief
When the rod of truth
Rolled itself down my spine
Never easy
But my God
I feel I’ve never eaten before
Blinking in the morning light
Lingering in
The space between
Light
Always light
Watching him pour over creation in undying
Glory
Rage
And giving my life away to those who need it most
Endlessly letting go
Of what I’m not
Service of self
And others
Simple moments of plates
Guacamole
Rice
Soap and water
Oil and laughter
Painting ourselves with joy
And beauty
And color
To hearts content
Creation!
Oh my Love
If there was ever evidence
That I am built like my creator
Nothing feeds me
The same as making something
That didn’t exist until I thought of it
And put my hands to work
Rhythm
Blood in my veins
Holding me up
Drums
Footsteps
Under me
Over me
Around me
Flapping wings
Chaos screaming
I will not be contained
Death
My dear, my bosom friend
Exploding each moment
With endless flavor
Insects
Small friends who I find
In unexpected moments
Usually when I need them
Always down for play
Reminding me that my world
Isn’t the only one
I listen
For Enough
Until I hear the heartbeat of Mother herself
She is
Enough
Echoes
Sometimes
Grief is the best pillow
Sometimes
All the comfort in the cosmos
Feels like cactus
Compared to what is true
You can pretend it away if
You want
I’ve tried
Crusty films of
Denial
Caking over
My clarity
It doesn’t work
So here I lie
Curled up against these
Bitter truths
Drinking their being
Like nectar
Their immovable nakedness
Allows me to be soft
And fluid
My heart’s yeses
And no’s
Direct my feet
On this narrow way
Much like the divide
They once tread
Nothing has changed
The wind still echos cold
Around this heart
I still don’t know
When we get to turn
Toward
Home
The Pages Turn
This year was compost.
Darkness and the stench of death,
Rottenness
Covered it from head to toe.
Almost everything I thought was
Indestructible
Turned to ash beside me
I disintegrated right along with
Last fall’s bitter leaves
I mingled with death
Becoming an echo of
My love
In His tomb
All promise of daylight
Utterly unspoken
Without even the comfort of silence
Amidst death’s din
But as the pages turn
Love is swimming through my cells
Once more
I tilt the cup to Life’s lips
And watch her lashes stir
Once upon a time,
I found my place
Here in the book
Of all things.
She came unannounced
A whisper on the August breeze
Tickling my ear,
“Go under.”
Down I sink beneath all
Appearances
I greet the roots
Kiss them as
A crystal droplet pure
I reach into the corners of my story
Offering their tendrils
The recycled wisdom
Of my pain
And tragic missteps
As bitter minerals
Purified
Formless
Full of life
I sow myself into this ground
With winter’s devotion
The cold trills
“Go deeper child,
Go lower.”
Curled here in my nest
At the root of all things
Burning as this
Bubbling core
Of fire
I ask
“What is happening there,
On the surface?
What of those
I left behind?
And whose are the faces and hearts,
Who dwell above now?
How does the story go?”
She replies,
“The story goes with you my child…
Look into your own heart.
To where does she go?”
Holding On
The hurricane is dying down
I hold fast to every life line
I can find
Until the ark finds it’s nest
The aftermath begins to drain
From my ribs
I squeegee the pain from my lungs
Remember how to breathe, woman
You know what to do
Eyes on that horizon far
I’m swaying from relief
To repair
To preparing
For the journey yet to come
I collect life lines like pearls
My son’s open arms
His warm eyes
Horton looking into mine
“Mommy take this,”
My heart breaks with love
Gratitude
And yearning
Swapping spoons with my chocolate baby
Giggling our pasta all over the table
Cuddling up my almost grown girl
While the sweet silence holds us
And one day I know
There will be more than crumbs
More than momentary connections
To the life that has my heart written on it
And I won’t give up
No I won’t give in
Until the promised land
Is in my arms.
How Do You Do It?
They always ask me this
How do you make this life worth living for?
The sky falls out of my pockets in response
I sort through the stars, trying to find
The one that will fit
This human
Not just any old constellation will do
Because
It matters
Because
You aren’t repeatable
Or Steve
Or Lauren
You’re an unmatched piece
Of God
Hoping I find the stars
That can remember you
How do I know this?
A sly smile creeps up
I turn over the other
Sparkling fragments of
Life
Every moment I moved
Impossible to
I’m possible
Highways that seemed like they’d never end
Fists clenched
Heart bleeding out
Getting down on my own level
Looking that devil in the eye
“I don’t care how many times
I have to kill you
Bare handed –
Mark
My
Words –
I WILL
Save my own life.”
Tally marks flood the paper
Pouring all over the floor
They all look like
Love
Love that
Reaches out
Wrapping this
Broken
Barely pumping
Human heart
In hope
“I have a few ideas.”
Twilight
A belly full of sunrises
I lift myself heavy off the floor
My legs overflowing with full moon dancing
I try to carry these squirming
Kicking
Tomorrows
To a world so desperately in need
Of hope
The weeks turned to years
I carry through so much spinning
The only constant
Is me
The world paints itself grey
Not in sadness
But in sameness
No longer enamored
By the sweet feeling
Of tomorrow’s foot resting
On my rib
The fog hugs the weight of me
Hiding the horizon from view
Where shall I plant these tomorrows?
I turn my eyes to the womb that surrounds me
Endless space
Eternal starlight
Where shall I lay the dawn to rise?
My Friends
I spent years praying for friends. Opening my heart in faith and trust that many guests would sit at the table of my love, ready to give and receive in joy.
And this is the story of who I met on that journey.
The first friend I met was a breathtaking, rather intimidating woman. Her name was Grief.
So far she has guided me through one powerfully transformative part of my life, showing me, little by little the raging ocean that lives within, teaching me just how potent my love is. How much I matter.
She stepped into all the cracks in my foundation, carefully pointing out how to build anew. She showed me how each choice I made rang like a hammer… insignificant noise in the moment, the difference between protection and destruction when the future came knocking.
She taught me what I deserved…lovingly drawing back the curtain of trauma and denial, exposing my birthright of love, truth, wholeness, and competency.
She held me, a strong life boat in the waves of chaos and rippling throbs that ebbed and flowed through my belly as the veils peeled away. She taught me that the truth is hard to stomach, and that I am powerful enough to digest the wrenches it throws in my gut.
She introduced me to a creature there in my depths, that began to escape through my voice, a force I had never encountered in myself. It was me.
Night after day I heard myself for the first time – beautiful, tearing wails radiating from my belly, echoing back from the walls around me. “I am here.” They said. “I belong.”
She also introduced me to her younger sister, Pain, who started rather stand off ish. Slowly as we spent more time together she opened up. She opened my heart to humanity, to myself, to all the questions that matter. As we bonded she revealed herself to be a compass of portals, weaving me in and out of everything I’d never knew I needed.
It wasn’t long before these sisters were visited by their cousin Rage, who came from a place whose accent I wasn’t entirely familiar with. Quietly, and with an ease and grace I’d never before witnessed, she lit a match and threw it into the pile of lies Grief had helped me collect. Many days we passed in sacred silence watching the hungry flames devour my past, and every cage that ever dared put it’s hands around my neck.
One day, linked arm in arm, these two guided me towards a sweet little cafe where Dignity was sitting and sipping on the patio. She immediately stood up and took me in her arms as I sobbed my homecoming. “There now dear one, I will not let you leave my sight again.”
Her words were pillows for my weary heart.
And so we sat together, peaceably enjoying the sunshine and cappuccino until twilight, when Strength emerged from the cafe door.
I had been expecting her, yet her appearance shocked me. Far from the bitter and rigid lines I had anticipated in her face, she looked soft – dare I say, girlish? – a peaceful, shy smile peaking out as she caught my eye.
“Not what you were expecting, eh?” she said softly as she pulled up a chair.
“Thank GOD,” I replied, melting into my seat.
Now we are a tight knit unit, with so many other friends who come and join our dance parties, our silent star gazing, late night walks, and quiet afternoon mediations.
Like any close knit group, we’ve rubbed off on each other.
Strength runs her fingers along my cheekbones,
Dignity braces my neck, straight and tall,
and my voice rings strong and supple thanks to Rage and Grief.
Each day I rest with a belly satisfied by the nourishment Pain provides.
Wildness electrifies my movements and
Playfulness tickles the dimples out of my cheeks.
Grace drapes herself lightly over me, the softest robe a women could wish for.
Each day we walk the earth together with footsteps of peace and power, becoming one.