What if there is no timeline to our lessons? (after Maya Stein)

What if delight could be a resuscitation?

Photo by Majestic Lucas by Unsplash

Hello Loves!

I hope you are tending to your hearts.♥️

I lost a man I treasured this Thursday; someone I loved for 47 years, the father of my best friend; a man who loved my children & me with generosity & humor, and his whole fierce, genuine heart; and well, I’m not ready to write much more about that just yet. I am raw and broken & we don’t even formally say goodbye to him until Tuesday, so until then…

I have just a little something I made in a live workshop with

Maya Stein

on “Revisions.” I think I will always be revising, re-visioning, in some way or another. I hope so anyway-to remain open to more, to being surprised by what I might find I can make of things, of myself-on a new day, in different light.

But for now, what a comfort to have souls to gather with, take some solace in, make & share art with, especially at this time.

I am ever grateful for this and other spaces like Maya’s.

Maya is so generous in her process, how she comes to make a poem~from her “right here, right now” catalogue of her present tense, to how she whittles it down by looking with “today’s eyes” in order to see what’s still interesting to her, what still feels current.

(If you haven’t experienced one of her live workshops, I highly recommend, not only for her craft instruction, but for what it offers in the way of bathing in the art itself, for the experience of what it is to be an artistic being, “a noticer,” a poet, a sensitive human.

My piece (below, here) is far from perfect, but it is finished insofar as I’ve abandoned it, as one must, eventually, with everything we create, love.

I had fun using one of Maya’s ‘catalogues,’ making something of my own from it. It was a holy sort of space to be in, to learn from Maya, partake in her art making, her lens of the world, to listen to what others made, & were willing to share.

It was a momentary, much needed ‘resuscitation’ of sorts to allow myself to create something amidst my great grief.

✨Beyond this beauty & reprieve, I found lessons for life: Maya’s generous guidance and the words of other writers who shared their insights and close readings became metaphors, spoke to me as instruction, for more than just how to make a poem, but perhaps, as tiny messages for how to navigate a life.✨

I’ll share a few of these wise snippets at the end.

For now, my offering:

Resuscitation

I’m just beginning now,

to notice,

my tangerine yoga mat,

how it waits for me

each morning,

is left imprinted

by my contact,

my feet and hands

pressing down,

how they leave

my mark.

The smell of “Mama’s famous marmalade cakes”

melts from the “Southern Welcome” candle that sits at my side.

I’ve finally remembered

the shopkeeper’s name

over at “In the Attic,” is Kelly.

And on Saturday of last,

with snow globe flakes falling all around,

was treated to her warm, genuine way

when I stepped in to say hello,

pick up this favorite, fragrant delight.

The tiny bells tinkled, announced my entrance

& she looked up at me,

smiled & said,

“It’s so nice to see you! I’ve missed you!”

I’m just beginning now

to allow

my own wild delight!

Melted cinnamon butter drips

from my full lips

& I let loose

my hungry tongue

to lick with abandon,

right here, in this cafe

I lean in curious,

notice

all my senses

craving,

how they search for contact.

I remember Suzuki said,

“Life is like stepping into a boat which is about to sail out to sea and sink.”

And I know, beyond this, so very little is guaranteed.

But aren’t we all just craving creatures

trying to survive,

trying to catch the edge of something to hold onto,

someone who knows our name,

or smells like home,

maybe tastes like warm sugar & sunshine,

or some savory escape?

I’m searching for the slimmest line of light

to shine on what’s real,

warm, soft, flesh

with passion & a willingness

to open,

unravel,

brave the elements,

be swept out to sea &

when we’ve capsized,

look under the surface with me.

Imagine:

What if there is no timeline to our lessons?

What if we began now,

allowed our desire & sin

until we met our end?

What if this has always been our work:

To find each other out here,

lost at sea,

make contact,

have impact,

hold on?

And what if delight, amidst all this, could be a resuscitation?

I hope, my dear reader, wherever my words greet you, you are finding ways to stay afloat, that you allow yourself small comforts & wild delights.

(Loose quotes) & What I’ve made from ✨the Snippets of wisdom:✨

“You really can revise all the life right out of your offering,

scrub it free of its wild weirdness & then find,

it loses touch with its original spark,

of all its essence”

“To know when to stop,

leave it alone,

allow it to sit

keep the odd angles, discomforts,

your own signature identity”

“what you have to offer

is all yours,

your voice

& view of things (in a moment anyway)”

“It needn’t happen in a big swath of doing,

or become an attunement to your worth”

“There is no one right way;

only the right way for you

which can keep changing, growing, becoming something new as you do…”

“Each piece asks something of us

requires us to listen”

“And Anything we do deepens with our investment”

“Our small actions add up over a span of time”

“We must be like archeologists on a dig,

laying out the evidence,

not to put anything on trial or to judge, but rather:

“To see what is happening, to just line it up,

let it become something, a personal choreography

we excavate over time”

“Learn to read your own landscapes, rhythms, habits, patterns, lexicons”

“To be like an archeologist is to be a scientist,

more practical and less egoic,

less attached”

“Do it on behalf of the piece,

see what its asking of you”

“Sometimes it comes down to comfort, to a certain, knowable something you can rest in, depend on, for grounding, to help diminish the “all over the place.”

“Sometimes, what’s at the heart of something is quite complicated on its own, so it can be said quite simply.”

I’m working on weaving a little bit of this wisdom into my world.

May you be find ways to stay warm & well; feel whole & held.

Thank you for being here with me. Your eyes on my words are one of my favorite gifts.

Xo,

Colleen