action healing, Fear, Grace, Growth, NaPoWriMo, NaPoWriMo2018, Personal Experiences, signs, the color of moments

NaPoWriMo Day Six: Calm Winds And Breaks in The Armor

The prompt for day six was to play with line breaks….Well, everyone gets a cheat day right? This poem was written several months ago in response to a friend’s story of receiving a very broken but deliberate weather message in the car. The message came on an undeasonably warm January morning and repeated the phrase “calm winds” in a strangely robotic but trustworthy tone, as those weather robots are so apt to do. So, the repetition of “calm winds” inspired the words that you find in the following poem. And I did, for the record, just so happen to play with line breaks some time after the poem’s spontaneous inception. That’s my defense against being a complete fraud on this day.

Calm wind, come

Calm wind is coming.

Calm wind winds

And whispers over another day, with calm wind promises

Calm wind splits

as we blow on

in the opposite direction

Pushing on in our dew covered cars

Warm January morning

Brevity of lush

Promises calm winds as we rush

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Grace, Growth, Healing, Heartbreak, love, music, NaPoWriMo2018

NaPoWriMo 2018 Day Three: Searching Songs For a Source

The prompt for today was to write a poem that consisted of made-up band names. As a springboard for inspiration, I turned to a recent playlist I’d created for a friend. I studied the words in the lyrics and looked for interesting word combinations. I also examined parts of my favorite lyrics in the songs. I wrote out the song titles in order, then jotted my ideas to the side of the song titles. After choosing word combinations that made the best band names, I arranged them into poem form and linked the lines (and band names) with prepositions. The result is a phantasmagoric/absurdist story-poem. If you’d like to listen to the playlist I used for inspiration, you may do so here

The Right Words and 

Broken Pictures and

Wrecking Balls are 

Nacreous Baby

Famous Angels and 

Prayers for Leather put Fallen Words into 

The Same Mistakes

Devil Knows of Cold Kitchens and Clearing Clouds

Joanne Stays

and bathes in Sank Bubbles under Marble Arches

while

Ancient Baths that Come Up Green

put oceans and rivers 

Between Famous Everybody’s, Water Wanters, 

and  Things On Trees

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action healing, Fear, Grace, Growth, Healing, Humanity, jesus, Kairos, NaPoWriMo2018, Personal Experiences, the color of moments

The Path That Leads To…Somewhere Else

What happens when the *Thing* doesn’t work out?

(A relationship, a friendship, love, a job, a career, a career step, something you endeavor to do with great passion…. something you think you’ve been “called”  to) 

What happens when the *Thing*  that’s animated your imagination, given your heart direction, and given your actions a deeper (more far reaching)  trajectory, doesn’t work out at all?

Different from never happening, what happens when the *Thing* finally presents itself as a wide open door of possibility then starts to go very badly, once you’re through the door. And then instead of changing or getting better, it ends. 

When the *Thing* ends it is a painful flail in slow-motion, a stagger into the surreal. 

Color, flavor, light, and movement all drain from the basin of your present reality. 

Days may accumulate into a week of bewilderment. 

And when that one bewildering week turns into two,  you start to see yourself in a way you never have before. 

When the bottom of YOU drops out, and the strings in the knots and in the elaborate weaves you’ve woven for yourself begin not to just unravel, but  disintegrate between your confused fingertips, you start to get real with yourself real quick.  

Illusions tumble away and you really start to *see* yourself. Unclear are your past motivations or reasons for doing anything, but cuttingly clear are the expressions and gestures and missteps and messiness  of the body you see before you in a mirror,  and of course the vivid mess of multicolored shreds and strings piled at your feet. 

That is what happened when my *Thing* didn’t work out.  And now, on the other side of hope—on the other side of all of that animating wonder for the thing that was not to be—I wonder why (at all) the thing took shape in me. Why did the hope or idea take shape with such certainty in me? It is easier to discount the truth—the realness— the validity of the thing into whose arc I threw myself. But along side of the failure, it still stirred up truth, and realness and validity in me and those things leave room for purpose. So maybe doubting the thing is not the way to examine it, or even to doubt at all, but to examine my hope, my certainty of the outcome.  

Many of my most beloved sayings are those that describe exactness in the mess, beauty in the chaos, knowing that life should not be organized but radical, that we are all together fully messed up and are wrecks, and are also fully good. We are not simply “either’s” and “or’s”, but “both’s” and “and’s”. We are things riven, but also beautifully given. 

And so I share this poem by Christian Wiman. Please give it a read. It’s also beautiful  read aloud, so give that a whirl if you will. You can also hear the audio of Christian’s reading by clicking here

“Every Riven Thing”

God goes, belonging to every riven thing he’s made

sing his being simply by being

the thing it is:

stone and tree and sky,

man who sees and sings and wonders why

God goes. Belonging, to every riven thing he’s made,

means a storm of peace.

Think of the atoms inside the stone.

Think of the man who sits alone

trying to will himself into a stillness where

God goes belonging. To every riven thing he’s made

there is given one shade

shaped exactly to the thing itself:

under the tree a darker tree;

under the man the only man to see

God goes belonging to every riven thing. He’s made

the things that bring him near,

made the mind that makes him go.

A part of what man knows,

apart from what man knows,

God goes belonging to every riven thing he’s made.

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