Category: Tenneson Woolf Poetry

It is Thanksgiving Day in USA. A holiday that sources back to European pilgrims arriving to the continent. Settling. Persevering. It sources back to appreciations of harvest, sharing, and inviting community. Turns out it is a much more complex story. All the neglected details, shadows, wounds, and so forth. Indeed. And here we are.

For me, Thanksgiving Day brings out extra energy of gratitude, which also has its complexity. Yet simplicity too. Yes to practices of awareness, wrapped in gratefulness.

So, today, a very random expression, of some gratitudes big and small. That live in my heart, belly.

Thankful for.
The computer on my desk.
The reasonably solid wifi that connects me to so much learning.
The pens and markers that I use to doodle and to map connections.
The watch that reminds of dear Toke, because it’s a Danish brand.
The artifacts — stones, shells, candle — that rest on the window ledge before me, also reminding me of dear friends.
The hoodie that I wear to keep me warmed on these early Winter mornings, and the memory of it being from my son.
I smile.

Such beautiful people that I encounter regularly, working with such moving purpose.
My kids, their spouses. My parents. My family system that so formed and grounded me.
My friends with whom I work and play and eat popcorn, and share a whiskey.

The space in a day to do a bit of nothing.
Or take a bath. Or ride the stationary bike.
And make a smallish turkey dinner, and use Mom’s recipe for candied sweet potatoes.
And listen to a book, a novel.
And sort a few finances.

I’ll call Mom and Dave later today. Just for hello.
I’ll watch a bit of football.
I’ll stretch my body, trying to further hope habit of flex in hips, shoulders, and back.
I’ll welcome Elijah. To laugh it up together.

Living with aliveness in learning and love.
Having a few key friends to turn to when it all goes to shit.
Celebrating life flowing.
Candles glowing.
Friends, friends — oh my.
People who show up to Fire & Water — oh my.
Dear mentors — oh my.
Dear mentees — oh my.

It grows.
This feeling of thanks.
That makes for such a compelling moment.
In a day. In a week. In a month. In a life.

Blessed be. From the inside out. With thanks.

Just a Next Step

Just a next step.
That is all that is required.
No blame or shame needed.
No guilt to serve.

A first next step.
And then the next after that will show itself.

Get out of bed.
Start the coffee.

Sometimes the next step is a pause.
From which a next pause then also shows itself.
No holes that need filling.
No vacancies that need worry.

A little more nothing
for a little while longer.

Ah, yes — principles of the Now
that continue to teach me an inner an outer kindness.

It all goes together. The flowering seasons that are Spring and Summer. The falling seasons that are Autumn and Winter.

Fifteen or so years ago, a friend and I were talking. It was someone that I have much respect for, and that has been an important guide for me many times.

We were talking about how the mix of joys and sorrows live simultaneously. Having a great meal together, resting in the satisfaction of it. And then learning that a tree has fallen, blocking the road and needs clearing. Or seeing the unrestrained joy in a toddler grandchild, and then learning the next day that a dear friend has passed.

“It all goes together,” my friend shared with me. “All of this life lives at the same time, whether in us or in others.”

I have found this “all together” notion an important reminder many times in my own maturing. It’s not, after all, about infusing or obligating doom to a joy-filled moment, nor is it about supplanting real and needed grief with protective sugar. The sorrows and the joys all go together.

For many years now, I’ve been learning to live into the whole of it, into the whole of all of it. We don’t all live in the same phase of life nor circumstance. Of course not. Yet behind many varied life realities lives this essence and principle — it all goes together. I’m glad for those in my life that have guided me with such clarity.

It’s generally not personal — the world surely is out to get us — when something goes wrong. A tree in the road is a tree in the road. Nor when we are tired from many days and nights of utter focus. Tired is tired. The phrase that helps me so often includes acknowledgement — “I am tired; except when I’m not.” It gives me room to welcome the energized in me — it all goes together — “I’m energized; except when I’m not.”

True for joy also. The puppy playing is the puppy playing. The sun rising is the sun rising. How sweet to welcome the joy that lives in the moment, without fear or a need to deny, that sorrow also lives. It always has.

I seek a life that integrates all of this together. Not as an overdone protection. Rather, as a way of continuing to mature and practice wise and kind living. Within myself. With others. With circumstance.

On a Monday morning, sun now rising (an hour earlier thanks to Daylight Savings Time), and with all of this refreshed desire to live in the wholeness of it, these journaled words also arose from the sun within my writer’s heart.

I am this human that I am.
Alive in learning
and feeling.

I am this human that I am.
Alive in struggle
and hurt.

I am this human that I am.
Alive with friends
and love.

I am this human that I am.
Alive with disappointments
and missteps.

I am this human that I am.
Alive in this body
and in this day.

Maybe that is all that there is,
all of it together.

And then I smiled to think of my friend and this conversation that so many of us venture to live together.

It has been many years now 
that I have been in regular morning practice 
to journal and to meditate. 

It is reflective wonder 
combined with 
stillness and breath. 

It isn’t the pages of words 
that are the most defining outcome, 
though that is significant. 

It is the clarity of mind 
integrated with belly 
that has so grown me. 

It isn’t the posture nor yoga body 
that most altars me,
though that attention is also significant.

It’s the fulfilled 
and known feeling 
of source connected.

It is now that time of year 
when it is dark in the morning.

It is 6:40 am. 
It will remain dark for another 45 minutes. 

At this time of year my journalling 
and my meditation 
so often flourish in the dark.