embrace the wound.

robert bly's iron john has been calling to me for about a year now. i remember the few times i've held it at book stores, caressing its cover, thinking about purchasing it. each time, i've slid it back onto the shelf and moved along.

not yet.

i'd say.

i don't know what it takes to make me actually read a book, but i do pray about every book i read. i ask for the next one. i've a stack of books right now i am praying my way, reading my way through. they seem to hit me at just the right time, literally capturing my syntax and the very words of my prayers and conversations. this astounds me every time, still.

at my first open mic, i went early to "find my book." and in the process came across bly's little book on human shadow. i wasn't sure why i wanted it, but a poet had mentioned wallace stevens to me and as i flipped through, bly had written an essay on stevens' dark side. so i held it close to as i walked away, uncertain of what it would hold, hoping it was good, and if not good, at least interesting.

i found the little book to be perfect for my place in life. bly's comments about shadow, a poet struggling with darkness, understanding it and breaking it down was just what i needed. you see, i don't want to excavate and remove the darkness i've come to understand. i want to incorporate it. find a way to live at peace with the darkness i've come to understand resides in me (in us all really, some just don't know it, or have not reckoned with it).

bly commented that poets must let the shadow come into their work.

my heart sighed in relief. my work vacillates between two things lately, ecstasy and shadow. seems there is no inbetween for me. but i am willing to let that be the case for as long as it need be. i knew it was time for iron john. to at least add him to the coffee table pile for consideration.

opening iron john, i passed over a book written for women, for this book written for men. i tried to read the women's book, but it just wasn't what i needed to be reading. so iron john called to me again.

this time i opened him. and read. and didn't stop reading. won't stop reading until it is finished. this book is partner to the wild women book i have come to love. it is about the wild man. a poet writing about wild men. there is so much there that pertains to my situation, i find myself sighing in relief as i read something from someone who understands. who gets it.

embrace the wound,

bly writes [my paraphrase].

yes.

only by embracing the wound, not turning away from it, not running off in denial, but squaring shoulders with our wound, only by looking into the eyes of the wound do we ever find our way through it.

i cannot recall where i read this but one person said the darkness gives depth to work. shadown creates perspective. the intricate carvings of pain in our lives make them more magnificent. if we can stop being afraid of them. if we can find a way to embrace the wound.

bly's poetry is calling to me now.

poets are astounding people. i have come to understand a great deal of their depth and quality of character by interacting with them in my small poetry groups. my prayer for them is that they would find what they need, whether it be community, publication, a reader, inspiration. and that through it all, God would be glorified. poets don't get it all right. but i believe we have a purpose (more on that later).

unpain

my dear poet friend used this marvelous word and i had to abscond it.

it gave to me images of everything most everyone i know wishes for me. and i am grateful. my sister was talking to me and said,

we don't have to be this way, you know.

which way?

i asked

she went on to tell me we could choose joy. we could be happy if we set our minds to it. (or so she's been told.)

do i agree with this? do i want this kind of happiness? i replied,

i want the kind of happiness that wells up. the kind of joy that springs from deep within, that is abiding, not something i embrace to make others feel better about where i'm at.

you don't want fakey happy?

no, do you?

no.

square one welcomes me home.

my dear poet friend sees a great battle, a great struggle going on between two forces in me. i asked,

do you realize i am struggling with my questions on the page but i have a sure foundation?

i understand,

he said.

you see, my whole growing up life, then when i became a christian i never heard the questions. i never saw the struggles. i was presented with this facade and illusory christianity. this book of regulations that i must adhere to.

well, the fact of the matter is, i've never been good at adhering to any rules, regardless of what they are or from where they come. because i question them. i ask, who made these rules, and why? if i must submit i do, but christianity, while it is a great deal about submission, is a great deal more about relationship.

relationship for me is rolling around in the dirt trying to figure out what is going on. wrestling. struggling. grappling with what i don't understand (which is a great deal more than i do understand, admittedly).

this reminds me of my dear friends who gathered for a reading/luncheon before i left texas. they went around the room and said a blessing over me, before praying for me. more than once, it came up that we'd had rifts in our relationship. i looked around and every one of those ladies, with very few exceptions, i've struggled with. we've grappled through relationship. could it be, i ask you, any different with the Lord? i really don't see how it can. relation ship is difficult, taxing. requiring a great deal of tenacity and trust.

i don't like happily wrapped up stories. which have no loose ends. i don't like romances which are not bittersweet, because that is life as i understand it.

perhaps there'll come a day, i pray there'll come a day when i embrace unpain because my life is not painful. when i will laugh, sing, and dance unfettered by these questions.

but i hope even in that time, while i am rejoicing, that i can embrace the mourner and sit beside the downtrodden. it is so easy, i have done it myself, to get irked with people who are bummed out.

i just want to be who the Lord created me to be. and i haven't quite figured stuff out yet. that, if anything is the purpose of this blog. i make wrong choices and do not hide them. i have not seen that done much. and if i err on the side of my unwisdom too much, forgive me. i'll try to bring in more of the unpain of my life. more of the rejoicing, i do feel it is barreling down out of the sky like a celestial water balloon and shall break upon me at any moment.

comfortably uncomfortable

i have spent a great deal of time of late talking to the Lord about these besetting fears. my uncertainties, my doubts. He's very straigtforward in His answer. and very clear that i am where i am supposed to be. this comforts me little, you see, for i am very uncomfortable.

Papa, i'm lonely,

i say

I am with you.

He repies.

Papa, i'm scared

I am with you.

Papa, i don't know what to do next.

just the next thing.

He reminds me.

it's almost dinner, make dinner.

i can do that.

sleep comes to me, and i rise.

Good morning, Papa. i'm scared.

I am with you.

always this, I am with you bit. no tangible comforts. no hand holding friend to get me through. just Him. just His presence. just the certainty of knowing who He is.

reading merton he says,

we have to know we don't know God.

i don't know God. for all my familiarity. for all my sensitivity. i've no clue who or what this God of Heaven will do or say next. i think that is where my fears come in. i'd just like to know (but then i wouldn't). if someone told me the things that were revealed to the apostles about their (grim) futures, i wouldn't want to have to muster the courage to face knowing. rather, embrace unknowing. i read somewhere, probably merton,

the only way we can know God is through unknowing.

yes. deep down in me i understand this.

does it make it feel any less like a free fall through God's grace? absolutely not. i'm uncertain every day. i'm questioning every day. but when i fix my eyes on Papa, i'm able to do the next thing. just the very next thing.

editing five chapters of a book are the next thing on my plate, and i can do those, one chapter at a time.

i get lost in all the big talk about positive confession and name it and claim it, because God is not my dumbwaiter. He is not my errand boy. He is everything to me, but not anything i can boss about.

i'm tired of unknowing. i'd give anything for a little certainty, or at least i say i would and it comes right down to it and i like not knowing. i like letting Him be Sovereign. i'm tired of trying to fix everything i break and mend every wound i inflict. sometimes it takes a true Physician and i must accept my limitations.

i'm finding joy this year, remember. that is what my resolution was. i have often wondered if using the phrasing "finding" automatically puts me in this roll of hunter and joy is eluding me. like i have to track it and shoot it and bring it home dead, stuff it and mount it on my wall.

that is not the kind of joy i am to embrace, i'm sure of it. i think the kind of joy i am to find is hidden in the next thing. just the very next thing. when i am faithful to that thing, it can then be found in the next next thing.

be about the mundane,

i hear Him say.

yes. i will try.

just do the next thing. and remember, I am with you.

signs of life

(Note: thanks to the kind reader who found this little gem for me! this is him!)

yesterday as i was blogging, then editing, the brightest little yellow bird--audaciously bright, with a slight black cap and touch of black on the back (looked like it was on the wings when closed), lighted in a huge pine just outside the window. i've yet to identify this bird. it was as bright yellow as a canary, but touches of black. i've ruled out the warblers and the yellow finches. but i'm still searching. perhaps he'll show himself to me again and i can get a better idea of what i'm dealing with.

the ravens have been about much. i'm partial to ravens. they call me to embrace the mystery. during the years when i went to powwows and lived in the high desert of california, ravens frequented my life. they were everywhere. this was frowned upon by my comache friend, who was dear to me, because to him they were harbingers of evil.

a dear friend went to alaska and brought me back a whale bone carved into a raven's head. so the northern pacific tribes do not dislike ravens as much as some of the other bands of tribes i've known do.

the trickster is a common motif in native stories, perhaps in other stories too, but i hear it mostly in relation to native tales. the trickster is very helpful at times, has much wisdom, but it is deciphering this wisdom that is the tricky part. or not being tricked into doing something you don't want to do. the trickster can be portrayed as clown, snake, rabbit, or raven (there are probably more, but these are the one's i've most commonly encountered).

so the ravens calling me to mystery is an interesting sirenesque call. do they lead me to my doom, or no? but i've come to understand this aspect of God as well. so the raven is not so far fetched for me, as trickster and Godtype, or mouthpiece of God. Certainly

the trickery comes to an end and we must obey God straight out

as don potter says, but i find many times when things are not what i think they are, or thought they would be, that God's hand has somehow kept info from me so i wouldn't judge based on my preferences.

this apartment for example. there were two we were deciding between. had we known there would be someone rumbling about the floor above us, there is no way we would have come here. but here is where we were supposed to come. trickery or not, i have to bless the God of Heaven for his stupefying ways. for i don't understand them.

so this little yellow bird's appearance speaks to me of something delightful. some new friend or accomplishment. though i can't yet understand and say with certainty what that is, or who that is, my heart rejoices.

the squirrel i mentioned before, he apparently lives on or around my apartment, and yesterday stopped and regarded me for quite some time. this writing turret puts me up at tree level and i think many birds, squirrels and whatnots are surprised to find me here when they happen upon me. but the squirrel quit darting away and sat there for a good five minutes scratching and regarding me. then went about his business.

it is good to befriend squirrels. maybe he'll get brave and regard me when i'm not enclosed in glass.

he's back! the little yellow gem just lit upon a branch, he has a touch of black on his tail that i didn't notice yesterday and a delicate golden beak (stubby triangle like a v). i really need to put my binoculars nearby so i can really stare him down and check him out. i've thought i really need to use a camera, instead of just words.

bridegrooms

this morning i read this in my prayers:

God has pitched there a tent for the sun;
it comes forth like a bridegroom from his chamber

such an image. it reminds me of this old gentleman who often walks by my writing turret, flowers in hand, a slight grin on his face. the man is eighty if anything. he clutches the flowers close to his chest, and once they were roses, another time tulips, if i remember correctly. he wore a burret last time i saw him. i imagine he is taking them to his beloved. oh, to be loved this way.

i imagine, for a man to continue carrying flowers home with such joy, long into the years of togetherness, there must be great rejoicing in that home. i can't imagine a husband who would gleefully bring home flowers to a sourpuss.

the wisteria which cascades across and down the sides of an entire porch trellis out my kitchen window has begun blooming. the extravagance of God is made clear to me in wisteria. the great ocean of lilac with its swells of bud and blossom tumbling up and over itself, is breathtaking.

leaves are a necessity of photosynthesis. a mere afterthought to the extravagant and joyful giving of the Bridegroom to his bride.

there is a dogwood, white, which is out my living room window. i sat to read merton yesterday (i spent the whole day with him, i have to return him today), and i kept gazing at this dogwood. something about dogwoods, they get more lovely with each passing day. i think, that is the most beautiful tree i've ever seen (and the pink dogwood, utterly gorgeous). then i see it the next day and i'm breathless again.

there is a little riding path through the church garden, and it circles through all manner of flowering bushes, whose names i do not know. but the blossoms leaping scent as you pass by. it is hard not to want to linger.

the sun is just coming up, the birds are still silent. but dawn is breaking. my Bridegroom is coming, i better go meet Him.

squirrel dens and bffs

i spend a lot of time outdoors now, wandering through the village. much of this time i am looking up through trees at the gorgeous blooms. i can stand under a tree for a very long time and just look. i fade out of reality in some way, as i take in the angles, particular leafage, and scene.

i sometimes wonder if people looking out their windows, seeing me standing under their tree (we're such a possessive society), think i'm odd.

my little girl has a bff now (for those of you who are male or over the age of nine, that would be "best friend forever"), a little girl in the villiage she has met a couple times.

so i'm under this tree for at least a half hour, staring. i hear the little girl say,

what is your mom looking up in the tree for?

my girl knew because i had pointed it out to her. and we have a kind of sign language like i do with my sister. we can use very few words and communicate a great deal. so our communiques are not always caught by those around.

she's looking at a squirrel,

my girl said.

the kids flanked me. two razor (or scooter) helmeted riders, to my right and my girl atop her bike to my left. we all stood in a line staring up at the tree.

i've always wanted to befriend children and animals. everyone else is a necessary evil as far as i'm concerned. children don't befriend just anyone. espeically the mean ones. when i meet and connect with a mean or "bad" kid, it pleases me immensely.

same with animals. when i walk through the parking lot or around our little apartment, the squirrels stop dead in their tracks and look at me. i talk to them now and say,

it's only a matter of time. we'll be friends. i'm sure of it.

i've got nothing but time here.

i have to file homeschool papers, and i'm wondering how it will look to put, instruction in poetry: befriending animals and examining trees. probably won't go over too well. but this is a different type of education, that's all.

the ducks at the creek were swooping in and out. i'd never seen (at such close proximity: within five feet) a duck fly out of the clear blue sky and land in the water. saw it many times yesterday. the boys were chasing the girls. there was a lot happening. meanwhile my daughter is trying to lure them close to feed them. they did not want to be fed though.

so my girl picks up her recorder and plays her,

i hate ducks song.

which i found funny, until the noise pollution made it very unfunny. she got over it. the ducks came around. did not eat, but entertained us for a good while.

then we went home, but found my girl's bff and her little brother.

so we're all looking up at this squirrel den, and there was a tiny little squirrel face which would peek out. then it would disappear. if you watch something like that long enough you get what is happening. i could make out three distinct squirrel babies. when one would look out the hole for a time, the other would put his hand on his head and push him out of the way, not unlike actual children when trying to see out the den hole. (can you imagine seeing the world for the first time? it is an image i've yet to wrangle into words. but i'm thinking on it.)

i watched this jockeying for position even after the kids resumed their cycling, scootering, and ball kicking.

once in a while, diminutive squirrel forearms would pop out of the hole, as if they were trying to see if they had the ability to cling to the wood. which, they did. the most i saw was half a baby squirrel popping out the hole. and when the kids would circle around and ride by, the squirrels would watch ever so curiously and pull their little heads in. sometimes there were two little squirrels trying to look out the hole.

i need to go back today and see if the squirrels don't venture out entirely. meanwhile, my girl and her dad will try another church where her bff and family go. i will stick with the little chapel for now.

dishpan hands

my husband asks me why i like this little church we found (or God put us in, is probably more accurate).

i don't really have an answer. but i left for church yesterday morning heavy of heart. weary. many troubled waters of my mind were stirring. and i walked to the chapel and sat in the creaky old wooden pews (the building has been around since 1860), and the stain glassed windows tower to the ceiling. they have the names of the men and women (full names, not just mrs. henry whatever) who donated them. they are all stained glass, so the colored hue of the room is especially gorgeous in the morning.

there's a big punchbowl of holy water (i don't know the proper names for any of this stuff), and a huge altar with kneelers 360 degrees around, gorgeous.

when the priest is preparing the one Great Feast, the bell tower chimes at particular junctions and it makes my heart beat faster. when the fraction happens, it rings thrice and i just lose my breath. i wondered how they knew when it was time to ring the bell (i couldn't figure it out), but a lady i met yesterday told me the bell ringer just listens to the liturgy and knows when to ring it. it is still utterly gorgeous though demystified.

i think the ceremony of it all, the organ (and i'm not partial to any organ, they are a weird instrument whose sound is less than glorious, shall we say), the hymns sung fully--all six verses if there be six verses, that blesses me because i'm about the story, the build up, the message of what we're singing not that it fits in some time slot.

sometimes i think we put God in corset and wonder why He doesn't let it all hang out.

this song was sung yesterday, and i wrote down the words and sang it for the rest of the afternoon. i now want more than anything to add it to my slight piano repertoire.

Fairest Lord Jesus

1. Fairest Lord Jesus,
ruler of all nature,
O Thou of God and man the Son,
Thee will I cherish,
Thee will I honor,
Thou art my glory, joy and crown.

2. Fair are the meadows,
fairer still the woodlands,
Robed in the blooming garb of Spring;
Jesus is fairer,
Jesus is purer,
Who makes the woeful heart to sing.

3. Fair is the sunshine,
fairer still the moonlight,
And all the twinkling starry host;
Jesus shines brighter,
Jesus shines purer
Than all the angels heaven can boast.

my girl has been tricking me into long walks. and i hardly need to be tricked but sometimes i don't want to go anywhere until i get there. she knows this about me. so we're out rambling about town and she says,

turn left here. let's turn right there.

and i let her lead because she is a bright girl.

so she mentions she saw a park, and i'm thinking, this is another trick (Lord, forgive my unbelief). so we backtrack and sure enough, there is a park. dedicated and signed, everything. it is this wooded park that makes one feel like they are in the forest. i walked through this place with awe, and we found the creek is accessible in this park.

while walking i felt like a little child being led. i kept thinking of peter being led where he does not want to go. (does the Bible come to you this way? actively? incorporating itself into your every day? i think this is part and parcel of why i get the poetry i get. the Bible speaks to me every day in myriad ways).

sitting beside the creek, mallard girls and boys came to see if we had any food for them. there is nothing half so lovely as a duck butt sticking up in the air while it gets food. the angular shapes and buoyancy were just delightful.

at one point there was some duck ruckus and my girl asked,

what are they doing?

the boys are fighting over the girls,

i said.

she said,

the girls are fighting.

then the girls are fighting over the boys, (figures)

i said.

we saw the snake again. or a cousin. swimming up stream, and i called my girl,

come look at the snake.

which probably wasn't the brightest thing to do, but i figured the odds of getting bit by a snake swimming by are probably relatively low.

i sat there, beside the creek and sang fairest Lord Jesus. it was healing to my soul. i am sure my girl and i will spend much time at this new park, especially since it is just down the street (the access point), from our apartment.

they had a dinner at the church, london broil, baked potatoes, and whatnots. my hubby helped cook. i helped do the dishes. it took hours to do all the dishes and i came home tired, but at peace.

sometimes, one needs the Body of Christ to be the Body of Christ. to encircle you without question and with acceptance. to give you a place to serve and let you do your job. for however long you happen to be there. to be a part. to belong.

i can't say why i like this little church, but it moves me deeply. it seems the kind of place i can find peace.