Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer

In the Hoop

we gather at the beach
where the river meets the sea

beers and kabobs
sweet potato salad from Mary’s garden
dogs brush legs
the sun goes down

by the fire
beautiful women
circle hips
with hula hoops
at sunset

pink clouds turn grey
orange embers flit
into darkening air
swirling in smoke

I try
the hoop
circling circling circling
then don’t want to stop
white foam in the distance
crumbling

“You look like you’re at a Grateful Dead concert”
a friend says from afar
I keep circling
“Is it because I’m wearing a skirt?”

“You just look like you know what you’re doing.  Like one of those hoopers at a Dead show”

the sacred hoop
the wheel of life
sun setting on small waves at sea
maybe my secret’s seeping through my hips

desire
to open to life completely
to die in utter surrender
gratefully

the marshmallows are out
Jeb’s made two s’mores
white goop stuck to full cheeks
granules of sand glued to sugar sweet
charcoal-covered hands

he comes to embrace me
head, heart-high
face on my blouse
hula hoop at my ankles
sand sifting through my toes

courtesy of derek gavey
Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer

Letting Grace Come Through

Sheba’s Hesitation

Lovers of God, sometimes a door opens,
and a human being becomes a way
for grace to come through.

I see various herbs in the kitchen garden,
each with its own bed, garlic, capers, saffron,
and basil, each watered differently to help it mature.

We keep the delicate ones separate from the turnips,
but there’s room for all in this unseen world, so vast
that the Arabian desert gets lost in it like a single hair

in the ocean.  Imagine that you are Sheba
trying to decide whether to go to Solomon!
You’re haggling about how much to pay

for shoeing a donkey, when you could be seated
with one who is always in union with God,
who carries a beautiful garden inside himself.

You could be moving in a circuit without wing,
nourished without eating, sovereign without a throne.
No longer subject to fortune, you could be luck itself,

if you would rise from sleep, leave
the market arguing, and learn that
your own essence is your wealth.

~Rumi (as translated by Coleman Barks with John Moyne)

courtesy of dynamosquito

 

Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer

Music Trumps the Alphabet

I spend all of my writing time this morning hunting high and low for the song.

After a fun-filled dose of Music as Medicine yesterday, I’m short on words and high on music.  Lots of fresh sounds in my ears bringing inspiration and the realization that sometimes letters of the alphabet just don’t cut it.

For instance, that song.  Sun Kil Moon‘s (aka Mark Kozelek) “Blue Orchid” has haunted me for years.  I recall one afternoon I just put it on repeat and probably listened to it ten times in a row.  Is it the chord progression?  The timbre of his voice?  The words of love, angels and a Paris hotel?  I really don’t know what it is about this song that moves me so deeply.  I do know that it seems impossible to put words to the essence of how it feels to hear those notes fill my ears.

So this morning I continued my search to be able to find some version to upload here.  Let the music play for itself.  No words, just a song.

But in all of my internet searches, I only found a handheld video bootleg of a live rendition in Portugal – terrible sound quality – and a woman’s You Tube photo collage with the song as the soundtrack.  Both seemed to detract from the song, itself.

What to do?

Write a post about the elusive tune that you can’t hear?

Then as the sun rose and my writing window slowly closed, I stumbled across something that will have to do.  A You Tube video featuring a still, black and white photo of a woman in shadows and scarves, accompanied by “Blue Orchids”.  I don’t know the origins of the photograph, but I’m feeling thankful for a means by which I can share the song (thanks FerventSylph).  One day maybe I’ll get the WordPress Space Upgrade and stream my own media.  For now, it’s You Tube City and Sun Kil Moon.