These days,
they are both quite ordinary,
and quite extraordinary,
aren’t they.
Today I woke to ants
trailing along the pantry back shelf,
a great chain of hundreds
that had found their way to an opened bag of chips.
OK, a bit of tending.
First things first.
Later today, extraordinary, I’ll plan a day long event for eighty people.
They wish connection and community,
a great chain to lift and love what is lasting.
I get to craft format for them.
More later today, at dinner,
my Sweetheart will return from her office day,
from her ordinaries and her extraordinaries.
We’ll listen to each other.
On it goes,
ordinary and extraordinary,
these days.
Breaking Rules
I suppose it is true
that I’ve felt inclination
to break,
or bend,
rules.
It’s funny.
I don’t feel
particularly rebellious.
My rule-breaking
most often comes from an intolerance
of a prevailing paradigm,
and its confinement.
“There’s always another way.”
That’s what I told my kids,
darn near tried to install it in them.
Two of my beloved teachers
taught me about rules.
First, Christina, from many years ago.
“Once you learn the rules,
then you can break them.”
She was teaching and sharing insight
as she so often did.
In other words,
don’t be flippant in your rule-breaking.
Be wise.
But know that in some circumstances
it will be wise to break the rules.
And then, more recently,
there is Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer.
What a delight it was
to be welcomed by her joy
of writing, and of, well, humaning.
“All poems love breaking rules.”
Thank you.
Yes.
The rules make perfect sense.
In a lot of circumstances.
Particularly rules for human kindness.
OK, guidelines and encouragements.
Rules make perfect sense,
except when they don’t.
Thank you to my teachers
and fellow journeyers.
I’m glad to know of your rule following,
and,
your rule breaking.
Keep On Being Born
I was in a group conversation & convening yesterday.
One of the participants spoke this from Chilean Poet Pablo Neruda.
“I was born to keep on being born.”
The conversation moved me all day, encouraging birth.
And joy.
Night Sky, Delight Sky
I just like the sky.
From a few nights ago,
so August in Utah.
I like the treetops peeking,
perhaps praising.
I like the top of the lamppost
perhaps saying to the setting sun,
I got ya (it will illuminate in about 30 minutes).
I just like to feel a big space.
Room.
Color.
Out there.
And in here.
And some praise.
And to know there is backup for the light.
