Category: Tenneson Woolf Poetry

Yup, that’s attractive way of living for me, perhaps for many of us. Thx Rumi, 13th century Persian Poet. Thx Michael Meade for posting and guiding as you do. There is something inherent, I believe in most, that seeks both the simple steps, and the ways that simple steps grow to practiced ways of being and to organic ways of planning. There is something inherent, I believe in many, that wishes to cultivate such clarity, courage, and love of way-forming.

With that in mind, these words from my fingers to keyboard this morning. Sometimes in my poetry, I get strong urge to write lines with one word. I suppose such lines are like simple steps way-walking.

For inspiration.

Just 
the 
next 
step, 
please.

There are many of us, right,
that
long
to be filled,
and emptied,
by
the 
now.

There are many of us, right,
that
long
to welcome,
and enjoy,
such 
potent
life.

I had one of those nights that wasn’t all sleep. The sleep was good, when I slept. And about 4:00 I woke with lots of ideas and dreams coming to call on me.

It’s regular practice for me to journal. To catch some of those ideas and dreams. And over the last five years, the form of that journalling has become quite prosed. Truth is, it just helps me to see it better. Not that different than the seeing better that many of us find in images. Or pause. Or sound. Or…

For inspiration.

This is a time 
when I’m called 
to live more deeply 
into the values that I so espouse for and with others.

A season,
of courageous listening and practice,
of aspirations and clarity that lift
life and love.

It’s not too surprising 
that I, or anyone seeking to live alive and awake,
would feel such times of change and challenge.

Kindness seeks kindness.
Consciousness organizes with consciousness.
Mystery wants to play with mystery.

Perhaps Life is working me and us,
or playing me and us, 
or inviting me and us.

Or just doing what Life does,  
what it can’t not do,
like the sun does what the sun does,
and like the river does what the river does.

What a delightful miracle
to feel aliveness,
alone and with others,
in this continued unfolding
of deep invitation.

Fun to see the Crocus arriving,
as it is every year.

They are the first of the flowering bulbs in my garden
that find their way to blossom.

They hold my attention,
inviting a bit of wonder,
and beauty.

They invite my commitment,
to a day of wonder
and beauty,

in the things on my calendar,
and to the unplanned spaces between.