How to meet envy–the Emerging Form Podcast
Envy is not a popular emotion, but oh, it has so much to teach us. Friends, I invite you to join me and my co-host science writer Christie Aschwanden as we explore a sensitive topic with one of America’s most beloved writers, Cheryl Strayed (Wild, Tiny Beautiful Things). Emerging Form is, specifically, a podcast on creative process, and in this episode we speak about abundance, about how we help each other rise when we rise, about projection and about how envy invites us to lean ever more deeply into our own creative goals and desires, to become more intimate with our aspirations and to push ourselves toward our best. Here’s the link … and I hope you listen to our other podcasts, too … they are free, though we certainly do value our paid subscribers, who get special bonus episodes, too.
Archive for April, 2021
How to Meet Envy: Emerging Form Podcast
Posted in Uncategorized on April 30, 2021| Leave a Comment »
Motherhood
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged beaver, home, mothering, parenting, resilience on April 30, 2021| 1 Comment »
—with thanks to the wise Rebecca Mullen
Today, again, I praise the beaver
who spends her life building,
rebuilding, rebuilding
her lodge where her young will live.
With small sticks and big sticks
and tall solid trunks,
with logs and rocks and mud,
with her teeth she builds a home,
builds it on moving water.
Because rain, because snow,
because warm, because cold,
because flow, because flow, because flow,
her home is forever in need of repair.
And so on a day when a surprise storm
has flooded the stream
and washed much of my lodge away,
I honor the beaver,
stalwart, resilient, habitual.
I notice the longing to move to land,
then I gather new sticks of courage.
Stones of forgiveness.
Logs of compassion
and the deep sticky mud of love.
I wade to the middle
of the current.
I, like all the other mothers,
I build this home again.
One Divining
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged ars poetica, water, words on April 29, 2021| Leave a Comment »
using words
as dowsing rods—
there, the current inside
Red Rover, Red Rover
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged childhood, friendship, game, sickness on April 27, 2021| 2 Comments »
The only rule:
keep the chain intact.
I didn’t know
in the grade school gym
it was a way to practice
meeting all that would try
to break us apart,
practice being bombarded,
practice calling in our fear.
Red Rover, Red Rover
let sickness come over.
Once it felt like a game.
Now—oh friend.
Hold on to my wrist.
I’ll hold on to yours.
One Hunger
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged hummingbird, hunger, sweetness on April 27, 2021| Leave a Comment »
whir of the first hummingbird—
it’s come so far
for sweetness
Incentive
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged beaver, gifts on April 26, 2021| Leave a Comment »
The beaver, gifted
with iron-strong teeth,
must use them to chew
on wood or the teeth will grow
and grow—up to four feet a year—
until the beaver can no longer
use its mouth.
Think of the gifts
alive and growing in you.
What will you chew on today?
Soul Writers Circle***SEASON 2 (JUNE-NOV)
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged augusta kantra, soul writers circle on April 26, 2021| Leave a Comment »
Get in on this amazing experience, Soul Writers Circle! We open for enrollment for SEASON 2 (June-Nov) on April 6, 2021
Writing and meditation are both, in many ways, solitary acts that involve deep listening and a far-reaching willingness to show up. And when we practice mindfulness and writing together—oh, the possibilities for inspiration, connection, and heart-awakening conversation.
Join psychotherapist/mindfulness teacher/yoga instructor Augusta Kantra and poet Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer in a monthly online community practice in which we build a community that supports each other as we explore together, through silence and language, what does it mean to be alive? But as Ramana Maharshi says, The purpose of asking who am I is not to arrive at an answer but to dissolve the questioner.
Rosemerry’s and Augusta have created a connected, bonded circle of people that explore and discover together, thus they have designed this program as a six-month commitment. It is the commitment we all share that supports this vision. We understand that unforeseen circumstances sometimes arise, but barring that, we ask everyone to do their best to be at each meeting.
For exact dates, prices and more info, visit here.
Allium
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged becoming, gardening, onion, patience on April 25, 2021| 2 Comments »
While I did not fix
the thing I most
wish to fix, and I
did not do
the most important
thing on my list,
and I did not save
anyone, and I did
not solve the world’s
problems, I did
plant the onion sets
in the garden,
pressed my fingers
into the dry earth,
knew myself as
a thin dry start.
Oh patience, good
self. This slow
and quiet growing,
this, too, is
what you are
here to do.
published in ONE ART: A journal of poetry
Missing My Dad
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged boat, dad, daughter, father, time on April 24, 2021| 2 Comments »
I hate riding in boats,
the way it makes
my body want to turn
inside out, hate the way
my body rocks for hours
after I’m back on land.
But I love the way
my father’s hands
rest on the wheel,
the way his eyes
scan the waves,
the easy slope
of his shoulders.
He’s so himself,
so whole, so someone
who I’m glad to know.
Standing on shore,
I wave at his boat,
as he points it
toward the deep.
He waves back
and smiles
with great love.
There are many
kinds of oceans—
time is one.
I hate the distances
we keep.
Turning to Physics
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged electricity, path, physics, resistance on April 23, 2021| 2 Comments »
An electrical current
knows nothing of the path
it will take. It goes on all paths,
but flows best toward
where it flows best.
It sounds so simple,
and yet the electrons of this body,
charged with my beliefs,
defy nature and rush toward resistance.
How often I try to fight myself.
How often I battle my own current,
the current of the world—
it’s like wading through honey instead of water,
this thinking I know best.
Sometimes, I see how my own resistance
is nothing but a part of the path.
In that moment, I flow toward where I flow best.
In that moment I am copper, ductile, tough,
In that moment, I am so alive with it, the buzz.
published in ONE ART: A journal of poetry
On Earth Day
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged dirt, Earth Day, falling apart, soil, trees on April 21, 2021| 4 Comments »
Of course, the trees with their greening,
their growing, their gift of eating light—
how beautiful they are in these first days of spring:
their feathery drupes that gather low sun,
the tender gold when the leaves first unfurl.
But today I am awed by the vital soil that feeds them—
awed by the multipedes and woodlice, fly larvae and springtails
that fragment the once-living world into mulch;
awed by the nematodes, the mites, the pauropods,
awed by the rotifers, the algae, the bacteria,
the single-celled protozoans—all of these makers of earth.
There’s elegance in the process—the breaking down,
the separation of proteins, the release of nitrogen,
the creation of rich, dark humus.
How seldom I honor the beauty of tearing apart,
the blessing of brokenness, the importance of those
who undo, who help the world go to pieces.
The earth itself is an altar to breakdown, decay,
collapse, demise. And from these infinite violences,
we rise, like trees, we rise.
Holy
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged find holiness in the everyday on April 20, 2021| 2 Comments »
Tonight, it seems impossible to not notice
the god that brightens the cup of mint tea
and the soft-scented god in the lavender petals.
The quenching god in the tangerine
juice running down the wrists.
And the laughing saline god
that crashes the ocean waves.
The stinky god in the stinky fish
and the starlit god in the dark abyss
and the grumbling god in the growling belly
and the somber god in the pillow—
it’s a wonder I ever forget how holy
the world is, every line, every hair,
every scale, every sound—and yet somehow
sometimes I miss the balancing god
in the bicycle tire and the ticklish
god in the inner thigh and the sweetening
god in the green bananas that even tonight
are engaged in ripening, that miracle
of transforming into a deeper sweetness
minute by minute by minute.
Bouquet of Haikulings from Camping in Utah and Visiting the Florida Keys
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged camping, Florida, haikuling on April 19, 2021| 2 Comments »
*
I was once
a mountain
—the sand
*
red hands on the cave wall—
asking my own palms
what mark will you make?
*
lying on the earth
shivering beneath the stars—
all night knowing where I am
*
stomping bull of doubt—
a blue butterfly
lands on its nose
*
distant coyote—
the heart doesn’t howl
alone tonight
*
delighted by pot shards—
could I find my own brokenness
so precious?
*
the seaweed, the pink hibiscus
inviting the self
to fall in love with both
*
when all the hearts wants
is a hole in one—
bogey after bogey
*
slipping into the ocean of love—
how did I ever believe
it was a puddle
*
after the conversation
there is only
after the conversation
*
holding my father’s hand—
a low sun lighting
the whole ocean
*
rumors of big sharks
swim circles around
my mother and I in the channel
*
all this talk of sharing
our most vulnerable parts—
sunburn on my belly
*
on the airplane home—
hearing in the whir of ventilation
the waves of the ocean
The Lover of Uncertainty Confesses
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged bird, certainty, uncertainty on April 19, 2021| 2 Comments »
Certainty is a frigatebird,
able to soar on the wind for weeks,
its nest a distant thing.
Is it wrong to say I admire it,
sleek and raven feathered,
how it dives from the sky
with exquisite precision,
how it steals what it wants
with no regard for what’s fair.
I have wanted to be that certain,
wanted to take, wanted to believe
my hunger is all that matters.
Is it wrong to notice these thoughts,
to give voice to their midnight wings?
I say I trust what I don’t know.
Meanwhile, I flirt with certainty.
It whispers to me,
I’m the other truest thing.
Butterfly Effect
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged butterfly effect, chaos theory, sound on April 19, 2021| Leave a Comment »
At first I hear only the fan.
The hum of the fridge.
The whine of a faraway motor.
I wait. I listen a long time
until I hear the slightest silence
from thirty years ago
when that butterfly wing in China
didn’t flap and so the weather didn’t change
and so until this moment,
the woman today didn’t know
that she was missing so much laughter
thirty years ago.
Wonder
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged shoes, wonder on April 19, 2021| 4 Comments »
I wear my wonder
like old running shoes—
not elegant,
not sophisticated,
surprisingly inappropriate
in certain rooms.
I notice how others
sometimes wrinkle their noses
at a blatant sporting of wonder,
thinking, perhaps, I must be oblivious
to the dress code:
stilettos of apathy,
high heels of indifference,
boots of cool reserve.
But dang, this wonder
gets me where I need to go
every inch,
every mile, even
across the room.
When everywhere I step
is broken glass,
wearing this wonder
is the only reason
I can move at all.
published in ONE ART: A journal of poetry
Interview on the Ram Dass Be Here Now Network
Posted in Uncategorized on April 19, 2021| 1 Comment »
What a joy it was to explore poetry and spirituality with Raghu Markus on the Mindrolling podcast … for an hour we spoke of trust and falling apart and process. We read poems and talk about embodiment and showing up and finding joy in a devastated world. Available as audio and as video.
Short Break in Posting
Posted in Uncategorized on April 6, 2021| 2 Comments »
Hi friends,
it’s our spring break so I will be mostly offline these next two weeks and not sending out the daily poems. On April 19, you’ll get a big bouquet of two weeks’ worth of daily poems all at once and then we’ll return to the regular daily sending practice.
In the meantime, wishing you all joy,
Rosemerry
One Dedication
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged flat tire, hope on April 6, 2021| Leave a Comment »
hope gets a flat tire—
stubborn, the heart
starts walking
The Tide is High
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged Blondie, buoyancy, music, ocean, salt, singing on April 4, 2021| 8 Comments »
lyrics from "The Tide Is High" by John Holt, 1967
Something about the unsinkable reggae beat,
and in just three notes, I’m again my young self,
dancing alone in my bedroom,
singing as if I am one with the song,
as if it were written just for me,
I’m not the kind of girl
who gives up just like that, oh no, oh!
And singing it now on a Sunday afternoon,
I’m caught in a surprise riptide of joy
and start to lilt around the room,
though just moments ago I was weeping,
buried beneath the salt of worry,
but here I am, dancing alone,
hips rocking, my shoulders a rolling sea,
my voice surfing above the bright swell of trumpets.
The tide is high but I’m holding on.
Sometimes a song is a lifeline,
not because it pulls me out of the water,
but because it tosses me deeper in,
and I feel I’m no longer trapping myself
in a life the size of a teacup—
no, in this moment I am oceanic,
an Atlantic of joy, a Pacific of wonder
vast enough to hold everything,
and the tide is high
and all that salt only makes me more buoyant
as I play in the generous waves.