Pursuing the poetical, paradoxical, metaphorical, lyrical, artistical, majestical, and mystical.

Monday, May 23, 2016

Burnt Spring




If hope was a color
it would be green.
It breaks through
charred wood,
burnt roots and
bleak landscapes of
black, architectural stands -
 limbless trees whose
peeling skin bears
witness to the silent,
weeping sap.



The morel patches are being groomed and enjoyed. Green patches appear in the scorched parts around the village. Railroad Valley is blossoming in patches - after the Wolverine Creek Fire. Deer are looking for places to birth fawns, bears feed, cougars are curious and hummingbirds flock to the feeders we put out to lure color to our porches.

Holden Village - May 2016







Labyrinth at Holden Village


I entered the labyrinth last. Ahead of me Lamb's Ear
kept her hands behind her back, Sangria
Red wiped a tear, Dark Truffle's hair
blew in her eyes, Cracked Pepper offered
his arm to Cypress Point when she needed
an arm to lean on.

I began to soften as I passed
Brick House. Clothesline Fresh seemed ethereal
Seascape looked full of peace.
Tea Light and Prickly Pear paused to stare
over the bluff and take in the roar of the river
together. Juniper Stone simply sat. Brass Patina walked
fast but lingered on the grass near the end.
Weathered Canvas wore down the path with his
intensity.  Pink Chocolate and Graham Cracker Crust
held back the skip inside. Sun Valley and Fresh bread
secretly delighted us all by stepping light.

I stopped to look at the silent group on the neighboring
knoll. They looked tangled together in an elegant, swirling knot.
I instantly fell in love with them. I saw each one full of beauty.
Sunshine haloed their heads. Surprise wiped
the lens of my inner eye. My heart flopped open.

Sheer Pout had never looked lovelier, Creme FraĆ­che
looked contemplative, Soft Sunlight glowed, Dogwood Petal
had peace wrapped close. Sugar and Cream let the tears fall.
Tranquility noticed the birds singing.

Could I now engage with Foggy Mirror? Or have tenderness for Midnight Bayou?
Or want to sit with Leather Chair? Or eat with Crushed Red Pepper?

What struck me hard in the chest is the vivid colors they wore - not the
proud colors of Triple Crown jockeys or Tour de France pelotons.
They wore bruised purples, wounded reds, scarred whites, hopeless grey, lonely
blues, passionate oranges, generous yellows, and safe browns.
Supernatural love flooded us all with soft pink light. Maybe
the labrynth gave them rose colored glasses for me, too.




I do not believe "community" works like implied. I've come to detest the word. All it means is being lonely with a lot of other lonely people - all the time: working, eating, worshipping, sessions, programming, planning, etc. 

Communing is different. It's creating space, listening, attending, becoming intimate, engaging, being present with, caring, being generous and loving the person in front of you. I can't bandy this word about carelessly. It takes time, effort, will, margin and wherewithal dripping from the overflow inside a person. I decide to do it.  And it is difficult to make it happen in community. Ironic? Yes! 

It is possible to live in community, look like you're in community, and talk the talk of community without communing. Ironic? Yes! 

I hope supernatural love takes over and fills me anew......whenever it is now. When I lack love, I'll find my way to the labyrinth to get untangled again. And see with new eyes. 


Holden Village - May 2016