Already — A Poem To Start A New Year

For many of us, beginning of the calendar year has added energy of reflection and intention setting. For many of us, that reflection and intention setting brings us to aspirations. Sometimes to worries. For many of us, we seek simple habit, which is, often, to see clearly, and with kindness, what already is.

For me, morning journalling is, and has been, a regular reflective practice for many years now. I write. Sometimes a sentence or two burped out onto page. Sometimes a few paragraphs that walk me through a bit of wonder. Sometimes a poem, like the one below that woke from me this morning, on this start of a new calendar year and decade.

I find joy in welcoming simple in my psyche. Or the simple in my day to day living, an example of which is in the above photo — drying a sliced lemon, orange, and lime to use as Christmas Tree decorations.

I find serendipity in the surrender. Not as giving up. Burt rather, as accepting, and trying to know more the feeling of “moving with,” that, perhaps, already is, and is thriving.

Greetings in this new calendar year. May we each find enough of the insights and practices that so swirl within us, and among us. to do the good we can.



I wish to thrive.
I already am.

Cut the worry
for something already happening,
yet feared
for its absence.

Get simple.
I already am.

Celebrate the practice
of habit already entrained,
and helpful
for its presence.

Blessing (Inspired By Flight)

I’ve been reading a bit of John O’Donohue lately, the Irish Poet and Writer (1956 – 2008). Reading with delight. With instinctive pause after seeing his words, knowing that I want them not just in my mind, but in my belly.

A favorite, and goto book for me is his Book of Blessings. It’s dandy. Soulful. Accessible. Loaded with great imagery. I was glad to hear recently from my older sister that she was moved by the copy of “Book of Blessings” that I gave to her. A favorite for her is this blessing “For Equilibrium“.


For Equilibrium

Like the joy of the sea coming home to shore,
May the relief of laughter rinse through your soul.

As the wind loves to call things to dance,
May your gravity by lightened by grace.

Like the dignity of moonlight restoring the earth,
May your thoughts incline with reverence and respect.

As water takes whatever shape it is in,
So free may you be about who you become.

As silence smiles on the other side of what’s said,
May your sense of irony bring perspective.

As time remains free of all that it frames,
May your mind stay clear of all it names.

May your prayer of listening deepen enough
to hear in the depths the laughter of god.”


Inspired a bit by the flight I was on yesterday, marveling again at what it feels like to be above the clouds, and then return to earth, I wrote this kind of blessing — that I wish for others and for myself, that I wish for the groups I get to be with, and for the individuals that mingle among them.

May the open sky, should we ever be able to see it,
remind us of our vastness.
May we have clouds to catch us,
or perhaps create a perception of being caught and held.
May we never forget what is below, in ourselves and in others,
nor be negligent in our willingness to get there and to explore there too.

Flow & Can’t Not


It’s a common theme for me. Seeking flow. Seeking relationship with flow. Seeking surrender. Seeking contribution. There’s a certain feeling that goes with it, I notice. And joy. And sometimes, the kind of “oh dear” that comes with even a half-raised eyelid of awakeness that knows things are about to change. It’s a common theme for many of us.

With that in mind, I found a few words writing me this morning. For inspiration.


Can’t Not?

In this life
I seek flow.
It is flow
with life itself.

Flow with life as river
that ineffably
finds its way to sea or sky
because it can’t not.

Flow with life as fire
that flickers or bursts
its way upward
because it can’t not.

Flow with life that is growth in spring
that persists through
rock, dirt, field, and even paved parking lot
because it can’t not.

I wonder if there is a flow
that perhaps takes decades,
and perhaps enough challenging circumstance,
to reach the point at which it can’t not be surrendered to?

That’s funny, right.
Because death will come
just as surely as birth,
when again, flow, simply, can’t not.