said the ice to the flame
teach me again
to be cloud
Archive for February, 2025
One Not Without Fear
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged change, courage, porosity, transformation on February 27, 2025| 6 Comments »
Though No One Else Can See It
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged grief, love, tattoo on February 26, 2025| 8 Comments »
For a time I thought I wanted
a tattoo to remember you on my skin—
that was before I understood
how your life is already marked
into every cell, every breath,
how there is no part of me
not needled and stained
with your life, your story,
your silence, your presence,
your love, the wonder of you,
your weight in my arms, your name.
For When the Fall Feels Inevitable
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged anxiety, love, safety, tightrope, wings on February 25, 2025| 6 Comments »
The space
between this
moment and
the next
stretches like
a tightrope—
let my
love for
you be
not net,
but wings.
Some Good News
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged goodness, humanity, kindness, news on February 25, 2025| 4 Comments »
It’s like driving over a hill
the day after a flood
only to discover on calm water
a gathering of trumpet swans,
the elegant stretch of their long necks rising,
their white wings spread wide in arrival.
Or like skiing through a vast valley
only to find another trail that leads you
into a grove of elder cedar trees,
their great trunks humbling you,
their balsamic scent opening
in the shade like holy incense.
Yes, that’s what it’s like when,
in a world that feels hostile and hateful,
you arrive in a faraway town full of strangers
who welcome you into warm rooms
filled with bright cloths, with soft guitar,
with fringed yellow tulips in blue vases.
Yes, that’s what it’s like when,
after listening to the firehose of the news,
you meet new friends who speak with you
of moss and making baskets and singing and seeds,
and your heart leaps up like a crocus in spring,
alive with the truth of how good it can be, this life.
Not Exactly Lost Near the Bitterbrush Trail
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged lost, nordic skiing, presence, snow on February 24, 2025| 6 Comments »
In the flat, low light
of morning there
is no way to see
the trail in the valley
of snow, and so,
new to this place,
I let myself not know
where I’m going.
I move more slowly,
let myself be led by
the trail as it appears.
Each moment is like
a new invisible map
that proclaims again
and again
You Are Here.
What’s Really at Stake
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged Cascade Mountains, mountains, nature, pine, scent, trees on February 22, 2025| 2 Comments »
I like to live in the scent of pine
on a thaw-some winter morning,
viscous tendrils of tree perfume
thick in the air, scent of evergreen,
yes, but a warmer scent, too,
like honey, like vanilla, like must.
I like the way the scent lives in me
as I move through the tussocks
of snow. I like pulling the tree-sweet air
into my lungs, like thinking of how
even now I, too, am becoming
more tree, as if my shadow side, too,
might soon grow moss. As if I, too,
might begin to grow roots right here
in the moment. As if I, too, might remember
how surely I depend on this earth,
how surely it depends on me.
Self-Talk
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged fear, opening, self-compassion, self-talk on February 22, 2025| 10 Comments »
Because I know in my body
the power of spaciousness,
I command my heart, Stay open.
Stay open, I growl,
as it clenches and hardens
and granites and steels,
but my terrified heart
keeps clenching anyway,
tighter and smaller and stuck.
I said, Stay open,
my voice a demand,
as if with intensity
I could force a release.
And the heart curls in,
intent on survival, like a pill bug,
like an armadillo, like a heart
that has learned before
it is not safe to love.
And it hurts to be small.
And it takes so much energy
to clench, that finally
it’s exhaustion that helps me
to hear the softer voice
beneath the command,
the quiet voice that arrives
like the slightest of waves, the voice
that arrives like low morning sun,
and the voice enters the clench of me
like gentle rain meeting dry earth,
and it says, Of course, you’re afraid.
For now it’s enough to remember
the possibility of opening.
How It Is Now
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged body, doors, opportunity, possibility, trust on February 21, 2025| Leave a Comment »
In every moment, doors appear—
not literal, of course, with knobs and locks,
but metaphoric, yes, with thresholds and casings
and simple invitations I feel
in my body, an architecture of possibility.
I didn’t used to notice them.
Was it because they weren’t there,
or because I simply had not yet learned
to see them? Now I marvel
at how omnipresent they are,
and all they ask of me is that I choose
to step through them or not.
I recognize them more in my body
than with my mind. As if the body
has spent decades learning, oh, this is what
it feels like when a door appears.
As if the mind is at last learning to say
yes, body, I believe you. Now I trust
that I can change everything with
just one step across that invisible
threshold. Or not. Now I know
once I take that step, I can’t return
to the place I had been. And there will always be
another door. Another door. Another door.
After All This Time
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged aging, beauty, natural world, praise on February 19, 2025| 4 Comments »
my heart still leaps up
for red rock cliffs
that rise from the river,
still thrills at the way
spruce trees grow
(how do they do it?)
out of near vertical walls,
their evergreen branches
bearing the silver
weight of snow.
The older I get,
the greater my wonder.
The older I get,
the more grateful I am
to rise into morning.
The older I get,
the more I want
to offer my breath
in praise of what is beautiful,
resilient and strong.
The turmoil is all around us,
and yet there is so much
that finds a way
not just to survive,
but to shine.
The Great Chorus
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged communion, connection, singing, song on February 18, 2025| 4 Comments »
We all live together in a home
in which the rooms are
made of song. Fierce
songs of resistance. Wounded
songs that rise like sirens and
drown out every other song, till
once again, we hear the tendrilled
song of opening. Chants
of freedom. Wild song
of belonging. Sweet lullaby
of trust. What moment cannot
be met through song? Even
the greatest heartache, even
the greatest joy, even
the smallest hope knows
itself not only by its melody, but
by who is willing to sing along and
who is courageous enough to listen.