Become a lighthouse (poem) by John Roedel

after you survive
your storm
you simply must try to
become a lighthouse

my love,
your scars are
meant to burn so bright
that they will help a person
lost at sea find the shore
every wound you carry
has a 1000 watt bulb inside of it
that preaches the gospel of the coming dawn
one burst of daybreak at a time

my love,
it's the circle
of survival
you have endured
to help others endure

you have outlasted the dark
to become a disciple of light

this is your calling now
~ to plant your feet
in the same shore
you washed up on
~ to insult the darkness
by vowing to stand against
~ to save as many others who
are lost amid the storm
and - of course,
~ to ignite

my love,
it’s time
ignite
ignite
ignite

Speed (poem) - Lynn Ungar

One thing you might love
is the way all things move,
the varied pulse that drives
beings to grow. The moss
creeps forward season by season,
but lichen takes what you and I
know as generations to make
its mark upon the rock.
The bark of the cedar expands
at the rate of millimeters per year.
Mountains move much more slowly,
although a mound of rubble
at the foot of a moraine
might have crashed down
in a single catastrophic moment.
The wings of the hornet
beat too fast for you to see,
and it will magically appear
where you least want it.
Why do you imagine that you
should be moving any faster
or slower than your personal beat?
Listen. Breathe. Move graciously
as salt water touching sand.

Driving Meditation

 [Tapping forehead] I am smart and can bring value if I stay present.

[Tapping right cheekbone] I can stay present and accept what's here for me.

[Tapping left cheekbone] I can stay connected to others and offer what I have to give.

[Tapping chin] I can stay grounded and trust myself to know what to do next.

[Tapping sternum] I am grateful for all I have, and I can be generous to others.

Searching

 I crumpled into tears at Sunday Chatter last week. V.B. Price was doing the spoken word portion. He read his Christmas poems for this year. They were based on a quote by William James:

"The art of being wise is the art of knowing what to overlook."

This is, of course, making the very large assumption that otherwise, a wise person is noticing all the other important factors that should NOT be overlooked but rather meditated on, distilled, integrated, decided, etc.

After hearing Barrett's wisdom, which he shared so generously and unguardedly, I fell into existential angst. I am so confused by my life. I do not know what to overlook, and lately, I'm so tired that I'm overlooking EVERYTHING just to try to be peaceful.

I do not understand who I am, what my gifts to the world should be, what I know, what I don't know, how to act, how to show up, how to support others. It's as though I am living in reverse, since when I was younger, I knew all these things with a vengeance... or thought I did. Maybe it's better to have a little uncertainty to keep one humble. But I am well beyond that into just spinning. 

I have had several long conversations with friends lately, remarkable because they are the exception to my rather insular, homebound life. 

• With my very oldest of friends, who has been my friend since we were both 2, I could see my life as a mother and a woman. How 47 is a turning inward kind of year. Yet still middle age enough to be plenty angsty. 
• With my college friend, I could see my life through my college-age eyes. He asked me what I do for fun. Ummm.... no good answer. Enter crises here.
• With my poet friend, I could see my writer self, ignored, discounted, and underfed. She probably has things to say if we were brave enough to face some hard truths or have enough rationalizations ready for all that we admit we should be doing but ... can't (for good reasons!).
• With my neighbor friend, who was my friend when I was 8 through college and then again now, I see my reader self - not the one who knows anything but the one who reads because I don't know nearly enough. 

All of these parts of me are more interesting to me than my mother self (perhaps because things are rutted) or my wife self (who is mellowing but not all that engaged) or my work self (who has recently been trounced by political winds). 

And is it the failure of my mothering and my working that have led me to question myself? Or have I paid attention only to those most important aspects, to the exclusion of all the other parts of me that I actually like more? 

I think COVID let me hide from friendships in not-good ways. I think I'm more isolated at work now that my work-wife is no longer there. And Terra seems far away, too. 

I've lost my gear. Lost the thread. Lost. 

I'm not sure what to do next.