A Person Can Break A Neck Trying To Write An Honest Poem*

*(With thanks to Charles Simic for this favorite line in one of his poems for the title.)

I have sat zazen my entire life

& committed every infant pink &

bruised purple morning to memory. I

have fasted & grown gaunt seeking visions,

having raised Presence to my soft red lips

as one lifts a chalice filled with Holy Blood

Of saviors, saints & the wisest madmen.

But it was not until the dim flicker

Of simple light, shadowless on the wall

of the cave that is my heart, scratched in an ancient

hand, that I was so stirred to finally

make out the blessing, once too blurry to read:

"let your writing be your practice,” it said,

let your practice be what you bleed."

Mike Biegner

Jan. 2012

Afterlife

That line is paper thin,
She told me.
I can hear the footsteps
Even when they fly—
They leave their footprints sometimes two chords deep,
They pass through me,
And when they reach my rib cage, I kind of fold inside,
I stop what I’m doing and I pay attention.
The trees look different when that happens;
They sway the way my grandfather laughed
When I showed him my crayons.
You know my father visits.
Sometimes he hides behind his dahlias
And poof he points out the dew drops
Just as if they’ve been there all along.
And sometimes the clouds spell words
Embedded in my memory

Now Karla, I told her.
This cannot be proven.
You die, I die, this much we know.
But at that point the buddhists think one thing
And the republicans another
And you know that priest
Who told me I was risking heaven,
Me, who follows 8 of the 10 commandments.
I dismissed him, but he could be right.
It would have to be two way communication,
Don’t you think, if the dead could speak?

You shouldn’t doubt, she answered,
Your friend Renee told you yourself
To say fuck as a prayer
And see astonish as a sign.
And I’ve watched you raise a broom to the ceiling,
Knocking a hello from here to there.
You told me yourself,
Time isn’t linear
And love outlasts a fleshy mess.

Why doubt it, she said.
Why be dead
When you might not die?
What mother would leave her children
 here floundering, trying to understand
how something holy cannot hold water?

You might be right, Karla,
i hope you are.
But even thin lines are still lines
And lines have two ends.
i can’t follow two ends.
I’d rather just one
I’m a circle girl, Karla,
And you know what?
Circles might be paper thin too





Karen Jasper
January 2012

Mindful Connections: It is time

It is time …

It is time to shift our focus from needing the attention to giving attention, needing healing to providing healing, approaching the horse through our wounds to wanting to heal theirs.

Horses have been in service to humankind for century after century. Building our roads, logging our woods, fighting our wars, the horse has patiently and diligently helped us evolve. In more recent times the horse has become less utilitarian and more recreational and status enforcing. Nowadays, the horse is part of humanities self-inquiry, therapy and personal healing process. The willingness to reflect back to humans what the horse is faced with provides tremendous help and support for the individuals’ development.

Yet I wonder, what are we doing for the horse? Who is in support of their well-being? Horses have physically adapted to the inadequate housing and keeping arrangement of most domestic settings, mentally adapted to the predatory approach by humans, emotionally submitted themselves to the ongoing domineering and fight for, or lack of, leadership, all while being spiritually broken down for the sake of service. Are we just so used to their kindness and willingness to adapt that we don’t feel for them, of them?

Why, I wonder, do only a few people see the opportunity for all to be well and wholesome?  If we were to take care of the horse, if we were tuning in to the intrinsic need of both, human and horse, to connect mindfully, heart to heart, humanity, the world, would be such a better feeling place.

As I heal the wounded carriage horse, I expand my wisdom.
As I preserve the spirit of the young horse, I expand my abilities to guide and learn.
As I see life through the herd leaders eyes, I understand his role and responsibility for the herd’s wellbeing, and thus I support him by putting my needs second.
As I am mindful with the horse, I become mindful for all.

I believe if humans take care of the soul family of the horse, they will be changed too. They will be lighter, more knowing.

When you see through their eyes, feel of their body, connect spirit to spirit, healing occurs naturally.

Nicole Birkholzer
http://www.mindful-connections.com/

Broken

"You piece of crap."

 

He said it quietly, deliberately, as he looked me in the eyes then walked away.

 

I took a deep breath, rubbed one of his classmates on the head, and turned to walk back inside the school.

 

He was having a bad day, my boy. He's called me names before -- stupid, ugly, dumb, old lady and, most recently, the scum between his toes. I've gotten good at letting it roll off my back.

 

"It's not about me," I tell myself. "I'm just the one standing in front of him, and he doesn't know what to do with all of his anger, frustration, rage, and sadness. He's broken."

 

That was in September, October...but it's December now, and "you piece of crap" kicks me in the gut. Not because of the words, but because it feels like all the work we've done -- all the work I've done -- these past few months has been for nothing. We're back to Square 1. He doesn't trust me.

 

It's a gut check too because we live in a world where an 8 year old boy can be this damaged, this broken.  He is funny, smart, so freakin' charming, sweet even...but sometimes, the light in his eyes goes dark and he is gone...far away in an instant and I can't get him back.

 

"You piece of crap."

 

The words echo on my heart. All the positive recognition, all the playful teasing, all the sideways-secret smiles, the sing-songy "JJ has his homework" on mornings when he approaches the homework bin, all those moments that he raises his hand voluntarily and I dare to hope we've made it -- all of that is dashed on the rocks with those 4 words.

 

It's not about the words -- I'm tough -- the words roll off my back. It's about the look in his eyes that says, "I don't trust you. You can't win this fight. I won't let it happen."



Kristin McCue
Nov. 2011