for Dan
Still, this longing to help.
I want to write the impossible poem,
the one that would make what is terrible
less terrible, want to give you
something useful as a tool belt,
practical as long division, hopeful
as the grace that rises out of our losses
as surely as sunshine rises
at the end of our valley.
There was that cold March morning,
years ago, when you grabbed my hand
and pulled me toward the street
to see a rainbow of ice crystals
glowing bright in the east.
An ice rainbow! you shouted,
your joy so feral, so real it became my joy.
God, how I needed it.
That. I want to give you that.
*
Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category
Loving You No Matter What
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged friendship, healing, helplessness, joy, loss, rainbow on March 3, 2024| 10 Comments »
One at the Harp & Flute Concert
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged classical music, flute, harp, joy, music on March 2, 2024| 6 Comments »
like honey and sunlight
the music tonight—
my body, a thousand eager mouths
One Way She’s Shaped Me
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged connection, foot, friendship, humility, Kayleen Asbo, touch on March 1, 2024| 6 Comments »
for Kayleen Asbo
With hands that have played Bach
on the finest pianos in Europe,
hands that have written poems
and love letters and treatises on art,
with precious, skilled, talented hands
she lifted my foot to her lap
and smoothed oil into the cold, rough skin,
kneading and pressing deep circles
into my arches, squeezing my toes
(once deemed by a boyfriend
“the ugliest toes I’ve ever seen”).
And she made me feel beautiful.
I remember how all of me softened,
even those voices that sometimes rage,
you’re not good enough.
How could those voices stand a chance
against such a gift of touch?
Her hands said, you are not alone.
Her hands said, you belong.
Her hands said, you are treasure to me.
And the day was gray; her hands were strong.
I was less woman, more clay.
With hands that coax music
from sorrow and fear,
she made me into song.
*
Exploring Dante with Guides for your Head and Your Heart
March 7, April 4, May 2 10 a.m. – 2:30 p.m. Mountain Time
Zoom (recordings available)
Oh friends, if you weren’t able to join us today for an ecstatic hour of exploring Dante’s Divine Comedy, don’t worry–here’s the replay. It’s free–a preview of a three-part class that begins next Thursday and runs the first Thursday of the month for three months. The classes themselves with be spacious–with lots of time to listen to composer, pianist and cultural historian Kayleen Asbo lead us through the art, music, history and mythology that informs Dante’s life and writing. Then I will help you explore the truth of your heart and how this centuries-old story might have something valuable for you in times of loss, struggle, elation. It’s a story of connection, of how we help each other, how we become most wholly ourselves. Join the big conversation as we Find Our Way Out of Hell to the Shores of Acceptance (Inferno, March 7); Climb the Mountain of Hope (Purgatory, April 4) and Come Home to Ourselves in Paradise (Paradiso, May 2). Each session has a 30-minute break in the middle. Recordings available to all registrants. Sliding scale. Scholarships available. To register, click here. You do not need to have read Divine Comedy–in fact, we suggest you read it AFTER the class so you have more tools for understanding and appreciating it.
Nightly Encounter
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged cat, falling asleep, worthiness on February 29, 2024| 14 Comments »
In the dark, she finds her way to me,
this cat who never deigns to sit
on my lap in the day.
I delight in this moment
when, just before sleep takes me,
I feel the thump of her landing,
the exploratory nudge of her head,
the tentative paws as they knead
into the covers, into my belly,
I love being the place
she chooses to rest—
in the moment, this honor
as important as any degree,
any title, any prize.
It’s so easy then, to love my body
when I am her cushion,
my softness in service
to her softness, my warmth
in service to her warmth,
my breath her rocking chair.
And any harshness I might
have for myself softens
in this humble moment
when I am deemed worthy
of her weight, this heavenly heaviness,
her sweet purr into my ribs
so quiet not even
the night can hear.
Like the Peony
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged blossom, peony, resilience, vulnerability on February 27, 2024| 12 Comments »
Like the peony that opens
and opens and opens,
this is how I want to meet life—
surviving the cold
then returning to bloom
again. Again.
That vibrant. That many-petaled.
Embarrassingly fulsome,
as if life just can’t
get enough of itself.
Truth is, life cuts you to the ground
and you lose all but the roots.
Sometime you lose those, too.
How is it, then, comes
the chance to bloom again,
to be less master of life,
and more servant to the life
that pushes through.
I want to be fluent in blooming.
I want to trust the possibility
of sweet spring perfume
as much as I trust
the inevitability of frost.
I am so grateful for beauty,
albeit brief,
for the chance to be naked,
tender, soft.
After Talking About Vulnerability
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged certainty, hats, loss, vulnerability on February 25, 2024| 6 Comments »
I just want something
I can hang my hat on, she said.
But the mortarboard didn’t hang on education.
The government’s white wig fell off.
The tiara slipped from beauty.
The skullcap blew off the church.
No hat she hung could stay.
The ball cap fell off the firm body.
Art couldn’t keep the beret.
Even the mesh net
of the beekeeper’s wide brim
fell away, fell away, it all falls away.
Which is to say nothing stays.
Not the dodo. Not the dino.
Not the houses we live in.
Not our firm young skin.
Not a father, not a son.
Not sunshine. Not rain.
Not empires. Not cats.
Not the first crushing fist of heartbreak.
Not nightmares. Not bruises.
Not hats.
She let herself drift
in what was left, her head bare,
hands empty, heart open,
eyes wide. The sun stroked
her shoulder. She breathed in
the musky scent that arrives
on the wind just before spring.
Nothing was certain. She stood alone
at the edge of every possible thing
no hat in hand, and listened
to the chickadee sing.
Writing with Dante starts Feb. 29
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged dante, Kayleen Asbo, workshop on February 25, 2024| 8 Comments »
The Journey Begins with Catastrophe
a one-hour preview of a journey with Dante
Kayleen Asbo & Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
February 29, 11-noon Mountain Time, zoom
How did Dante get to the place where he wrote the Divine Comedy? Have you ever wholly lost your way? Found yourself on the shores of humility? Join me and my amazing and beloved friend Kayleen Asbo, cultural historian, musician, and art historian, for a 60-minute preview of our new collaboration, Writing with Dante, a three-part workshop. This first one-hour program on Feb. 29 is free, though donations are gratefully accepted.
Kayleen will lead us by the hand to explore connect our lives with the psychological landscapes of Dante’s Divine Comedy through a feast of art, music and storytelling. I’ll guide writing and sharing to help weave our conversations, questions and explorations into our own lives.
The series continues:
March 7 10 a.m.-2:30 p.m. mountain time, In the Dark Woods: Reading and writing into Dante’s Inferno
April 4 10 a.m – 2:30 p.m. mountain time, The Mountain of Hope: Reading and writing into Dante’s Puragatory
May 2 10 a.m. – 2:30 p.m. Coming Home to a Place of Belonging: Reading and writing into Dante’s Paradise
To register for this free preview, visit here
One Beyond Practical
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged friendship, song, umbrella on February 25, 2024| Leave a Comment »
for KC
an umbrella of song—
sure we got wet,
but man, did we smile
Beyond Quiet
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged kindfisher, noise, peace, quiet, surrender on February 24, 2024| 6 Comments »
From bare branch to bare branch
Clark’s nutcrackers weave the dry tick
of their call through morning—
as if sticks are rattling,
as if stones are clattering—
and whatever part of me
that is longing for quiet
is invited into the racket.
I say I want peace,
but what the heart really wants
is to know itself
as part of everything,
to belong to the world
of grinding and trilling,
scolding and chattering,
to knit itself into this raucous day,
strident and so alive.