Respiration, Jumping Jacks and the Thread

At 5:55am, I have no idea what today brings.

I tried that trick a friend told me about. Jumping up and down within the first 15 minutes of waking. Repeating the mantra “Abundance is here now!” Or inserting whatever you wish to be here now: “Love is here now!” “Health is here now!” “Happiness is here now!”

He says it’s a fun way to set the tone for the day. But I live on the second story so I was sort of making quiet, 5:15-in-the-morning hops. I was too lazy to go outside in the dark on the wet grass. So my jumping jack intention may have had only half-power. But you, see, I’m trying.

Following these threads. Listening for guidance.

Tomorrow my wisdom teeth are extracted. Yesterday, Jeb got a prescription for antibiotics for some funk in his chest. Today’s events are yet unknown.

If I begin to think about the work I have to do, the preparations needed for the upcoming days and the obligations I have to fulfill, I think those jumping jacks would turn into the fetal position. Alas, a mother has no option to assume this position.

In fact, in this “now”, a mother may have no more time to post a rambling Archive post about following a thread, as her sick child emerges from bed with a sweaty head and whispered voice.

I’ve leaned on the words of William Stafford before. Quoted him right here in the Archives. I like to think of his reference to the thread as a description of the artistic process. But it’s not only that. It’s about so much more. So much more, that it then becomes elementary.

courtesy of noii

Perhaps that thread is simply the essence of life. An essence most readily touched breath by breath. That respiration our heartbeats track, weaving moments to days, days to a living.

In a day, chaotic, like today. Uncertain. I hold the thread of the present moment, following it and trusting that all will unfold in some way that will be ok.

“Now is here now!” And I guess later will be here later.

One step at a time, I follow this thread. Watch for magic in unexpected places. Hopefully laugh a little (or a lot).

Trust.

The Way It Is

There’s a thread you follow. It goes among
things that change.  But it doesn’t change.
People wonder about what you are pursuing.
You have to explain about the thread.
But it is hard for others to see.
While you hold it you can’t get lost.
Tragedies happen; people get hurt
or die; and you suffer and get old.
Nothing you do can stop time’s unfolding.
You don’t ever let go of the thread.

~ William Stafford ~

Guided by Stars

I can see
how the Polynesian sailors
made friends with the stars

stellar points of reference
constant connections
that only
slowly
rounded
through the night
out of sight

more than friends
they were
the celestial compass
pointing the way
home

for three nights
in the twenty-first century
I leave my GPS
and Google maps
behind
all points lead
here

my body held in the meld
of sand
the perfect shape
to fit
my form
each night
my eyes have only one place to cast upon
a night sky
no distraction
but for more than a billion
stars

that big dipper
tipping
same place
every evening
daring to ladle
a hefty helping
of the sea,
my heart

ancient people
once
laid upon this shore
and lived
hungry or full
in love
or broken-hearted
this canopy
of light delay
was their Constant

can I forever imprint
the signpost
of these diamond markers
on my soul
pocket them for guidance
for when I’m back
and housed in doors
merely sneaking peeks to sky
through lamp-lit windows

these heavenly bodies
are falling
tonight
plenty of chances
to pin hopes on dreams
but no wishes seem to matter
here
sand
sea
me

there is only one longing
I don’t want to lose sight
may I never forget
the infinite dots
connecting
me
to Home

courtesy of Larry Johnson

Spoon-fed

Your Beautiful Parched, Holy Mouth

A poet is someone
Who can pour Light into a spoon,
Then raise it
To nourish
Your beautiful parched, holy mouth

~ Hafiz

courtesy of Ahmed Rabea