making my mother’s cookies
with my mother—
the same recipe, sweeter
Archive for December, 2019
One Recipe
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged daughter, music, poem, poetry, test on December 22, 2019| 3 Comments »
Surprise Grace
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged dark, light, losing the self, loss of the separate self, night, solstice on December 21, 2019| 4 Comments »
And this is the chapter
when it just feels
too much too much
to turn on the light
and so you sit
in the dark.
This is not a myth
in which you are punished,
turned into a tree or a kingfisher—
nor is this the story
in which you discover
your own light.
No, this is the night
in which you are simply
a lifetime of tired
and unable to turn on the light.
And so it’s you
and the night.
It’s you and the night.
And then it’s just the night.
One Reveal
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged light, night, poem, poetry, sky on December 20, 2019| 2 Comments »
In These Halcyon Days
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged knowing, knowing the self, poem, poetry, self on December 19, 2019| 2 Comments »
for it is not so much to know the self
as to know it as it is known
by galaxy and cedar cone
—A.R. Ammons, “Gravelly Run”
I want to know the self
the way a nest might know
the eggs it holds, the way
a feather might know a wing.
I want to know the self
as a bank knows a river,
as wave knows water,
as night knows the night.
There is a kind of knowing
that has less to do with certainty
and more to do with meeting
the world again and again as it is.
I want to know the self
with no name, with no story,
as a stone might know it,
or a song.
Soften, She Said
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged augusta kantra, poem, poetry, reaching, softening, yoga on December 18, 2019| 9 Comments »
In these darkened days,
I think of the potato
that, left in the pantry,
will grow long white arms
to reach for the light.
There is, of course,
a beauty in reaching.
But today I think of Augusta
who taught me
the beauty of softening—
how the same reaching effect
can be achieved
by focusing on the part
that isn’t reaching,
letting it soften.
Soften, she said.
Soften. And it was as if
I were new in my body.
The effect was the same,
the method the opposite.
I love how I didn’t know
there was something
so beautiful yet to learn
about letting go. I love
these lessons in softening—
how, on this morning I learn again
to relax, to unstrive, to unreach,
to lean into ease, and like a camellia blossom,
in the dark of winter to open,
to find such sweet release.
20 billion atoms from Shakespeare
I’m Thinking of an Ornament
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged Christmas, mom, mother, parenting, poem, poetry, questions on December 16, 2019| 2 Comments »
The rules are simple. One person chooses
an ornament on the tree. The others ask
yes/no questions until they guess it correctly.
It was my mother who taught me.
I taught my own children. It’s a ritual
as important as the tree itself. Is it red?
Is it round? Is it cloth? Handmade?
So many questions we never can answer.
So many questions elude yes or no. But here,
in the soft glow of Christmas tree lights,
we share moments when every question
leads us closer to a treasure, where
the moments are treasures themselves.
One Return of Friendship
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged Christmas, death, friendship, tree on December 15, 2019| Leave a Comment »
Shabbat
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged bread, candle, food, kindness, poem, poetry, Shabbat on December 14, 2019| 7 Comments »
for Peter and Lisa
We covered our eyes with our hands
and repeated the sacred words that Peter said,
blessing the pomegranate juice, blessing
the challah bread. And when we were done
with the prayer, we removed our hands
from our eyes and the candlelit world
was surprisingly bright. Such a simple faith,
kindness. The willingness to invite another in,
to make them bread, to offer them soup,
to say to the other, Here. Feast. Rest. To share
ancient stories and offer new wisdom.
To pass the braided bread, hand to hand,
and eat it together. To listen to each other
until the candles had burned through all their wax.
To continue to listen after the light goes out.
Following the Queen’s Lead
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged acceptance, Alice in wonderland, impossible, Lewis Carroll, poem, poetry, possibility on December 12, 2019| 2 Comments »
Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.
—Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland
I put off breakfast for hours,
hoping it will allow more time
for impossible thoughts to come.
They trickle in: World peace.
Inner peace. Healing.
Pure love. An abundance
of unrestricted hours.
Then, stymied, I put off lunch.
Put off snack. Just before dinner
I meet a sixth impossible thought:
accepting the world the way it is,
falling in love anyway.
Who wants to believe in that?
But acceptance shines
through the window like a full moon,
as if it’s the only thing that makes sense.
Eventually, the night is so bright
anything seems possible.
As the Chemo Begins
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged chemo, friendship, hair, healing, poem, poetry on December 12, 2019| 5 Comments »
Most of her hair was gone already,
but I guided the electric razor across her scalp,
brown tufts falling into my fingers.
We listened to music, drank wine,
toasted to vulnerability. She made jokes
about not needing to buy shampoo.
I sang along with the songs we had chosen—
choked on the lyrics to “Life is Wonderful,”
hummed when I couldn’t sing.
There are days when wonderful
is so far from what we might have chosen,
but wonderful it was, my hands
smoothing across the new naked landscape
of her head, delighting in the feel of the fuzz,
marveling at the gift of sharing loss and fear.
There are days when we lean into each other
and cry. And such a terrible wonderful it is,
letting the tears come. Weeping them together.