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Posts Tagged ‘fear’

Sharing Our Humanness

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on March 10, 2026| 2 Comments »


    with thanks to James Crews
 
 
My friend James calls it the rough blessing,
the blessing that rubs, that chafes,
that scrapes. Perhaps I wanted blessings
to only feel good, to be gentle. But the word itself
comes from the practice of sprinkling blood
on an altar. Why should I be surprised when
the blood for the rite is my own? I am thinking
of how today when I was hemorrhaging fear,
my friend comforted me when I called her in tears.
I felt so loved when she listened and soothed.
Such luminous intimacy grew from my wound.
Oh, ache of being human. Oh, the blessing.

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The Trap

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on February 25, 2026| 8 Comments »


for Coleman Barks (April 23, 1937-Feb. 23, 2026)
 
 
It took me six months
to get Coleman Barks
to grant me permission
to use his translations of Rumi.
Six months of fretting.
Six months of worry.
Six months of feeling unworthy.
One day my friend asked
what was taking so long.
I told her, I hadn’t yet summoned
the courage to ask him.
In five minutes, she’d found me
his email. That night I wrote him.
The next day, he responded.
Of course. Please use them.
Fear is a trap. It uses self-doubt
as bait. But sometimes
generosity breaks the steel wire.
The trap never works as well again.
Years later, I remember his kindness
and the clarity of my friend.
How quickly joy can find legs.
Joy is the mouse that sees the trap
and knows there are better
places to find nourishment.
Joy is the mouse that sees the trap
and walks the other way.
 

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Every fortress I have ever built

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , on February 12, 2026| 4 Comments »


 
 
around my heart has come down.
Oh sure, I’ve rebuilt them with stones
of indifference. Stones of distraction.
Stones of unwillingness to see and be seen.
I’ve rebuilt the fortresses again. Again.
But then come flames of heartbreak.
Cannons of loss. The triple promises
of entropy, gravity and time. And at last,
too exhausted to lift the stones again,
I shiver with the cold wind of fear.
Sting from the sharp blades of betrayal.
But I feel, too, the gentle hand of another
as it holds my trembling hand.
Feel the body soften as I listen
to the music I could never make alone.
How present I can be when I no longer try
to rebuild the fortress. Present
enough to listen for the goodness
in the hearts of others. Present enough
to listen for the goodness in mine.

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The Channeling

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on January 20, 2026| 5 Comments »


 
We might as well be divine.
                  —Kate Horowitz, “i tell the ghost of carrie fisher the world is ending”
 
 
We might as well be divine.
As masked agents arrive
with guns, curses
and brutal disrespect,
we might as well be divine.
We might as well sing at the edge
of collapse, bring forth the kind
of harmony that calls goosebumps
to arms and hot tears to eyes.
As we march, as we gather,
as we fight for each other,
we might as well be divine.
As rivers shrink and sinkholes
appear and we face water
bankruptcy worldwide,
we might as well share
what is not ours to own.  
And be kind to each other.
And praise what good we find.
This is it. It’s like this. Nothing
but now. What we bring,
who we are, this is all.
As tears fall fast and voices rise,
as fear grows thick and viscous,
we might as well be channels for grace,
we might as well be divine.

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In the Airport, I Wonder about Enough

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , on July 28, 2025| 8 Comments »


 
 
Could they ever be enough,
these stumbling attempts
to bring kindness to an aching world?
Enough, this holding the door for a stranger,
this saying I’m sorry, this holding a place in line?
How could it be enough, asks the ache,
when today I saw the photo of the mother
holding the starving child in Gaza,
his brown legs as thin as my wrists.
I am sick with helplessness.
What does it mean, enough?
Beside me on a bench,
a man I have never met is humming.
His tune blooms like a sun in my chest.
The warmth twines with the beat of my question,
How could any small act be enough?
Until the child in the photo and all children
are safe and fed and loved and held by loving mothers
who are safe and fed and loved
and held by loving others who are safe
and fed and loved—until then,
how could anything ever be enough?
The old man beside me has started to sing.
His eyes are closed, and his
low gentle voice braids beauty
into everything around him.
Even the questions that will never
have answers. Even this terrible ache.
How deeply I want to believe
it is not too late to save this world.

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It Won’t Go on the Resume, But

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , on June 23, 2025| 6 Comments »


 
 
All I’ve accomplished today:
a newsletter, a few less weeds, some
scheduling, a talk with a friend.
But last night, in a dream, I flew. I flew!
I leapt from a cliff with a smile on my face
and not an ounce of fear in my body.
Truth is the fear came after the leap.
Came as I fell and feared I’d trusted
in myself too soon. But before the crash,
before the sick crunch of bones came
the weightless lift, the joy, the flight!
When I woke, I was stunned. I flew!
I flew without wings! I flew! I jumped
off the cliff and fell and fell. And fell.
And fell. And feared. And flew! I flew!
Today, the list of accomplishments
feels sparse. But all day, I felt it, the thrill
of what my body now knows it can do.
Can leap from cliffs with a smile. Can fly
even when I feel fear. It is not just a dream.
It’s a trust in my blood. I can leap. I can trust.
I can fly. It’s true, it’s true, it’s true.
Whatever is inside me knows that how to fly,
it guided me. And I flew.

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All at Once

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on June 18, 2025| 8 Comments »


 
 
Walking alone into the dark,
my fear comes with me.
I feel it small and hard
in my belly like a tiny grenade
the mind has conjured
in case I need protection.
Meanwhile, all around me
the night is peaceful.
The dark spills its generous ink
into every open space.
Crickets rub their legs in bright music.
The misty rain makes no sound.
But the mind is not convinced
the night is safe. It clenches tighter
around its fear. It does no good
to tell the mind not to worry.
Hello, tiny grenade.
I carry it with me as I walk
through a field of fireflies—
and I’m laid bare by the beauty
I find there—thousands of glittering sparks.
Isn’t it a marvel how a person
can be both clenching and opening
at the very same time
while moving alone through the dark?

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Walking Back from Sanborn Park

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on June 12, 2025| 6 Comments »


 
 
Four-foot rattlesnake.
Sunning herself.
Right in the middle
of the road. Strange,
how terror can also
breed awe. For long,
silent moments, I offer
her all my attention.
After she slips into swaths
of sweet clover,
the sky, such a startling blue.
The scent of wild roses,
so stirring, so sweet.

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The Opening

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on June 8, 2025| 6 Comments »


 
 
There is a terror that claims us,
that snaps its strong jaws around us
and thrashes us till we are limp.
Who could guess such a maw
is a portal to grace?
There are wounds so great
no amount of salve or prayer
or kindness or care can heal them,
and through them we find gateways to love.
It is after the wailing and howling with ache
that we hear, as if for the first time,
the almost inaudible song of our breath
and know it as home.  
How is it that what saves us
feels so far out of reach
but is here, bone close?
There is an infinite blooming inside us
we come to know only as we wither.
Even now, in this chill,
it is opening.

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One Clearing

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , on March 22, 2025| 4 Comments »


 
 
every day I dismantle its nest,
that fear that wings darkly
into my thoughts

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