For a time, I wondered if our poetry project was selfish.
After all, it is about spreading my poetry into the world according to my vision, given to me via my interpretation of my personal wisdom. At the core, I am asking others – most often, complete strangers – to think about my art and take time from their lives to tuck my poems into interesting and inspired places where perhaps other strangers will find – wait, wait, here it comes: my poetry.
Those of you of a certain age and culture will understand when I say that the old “Saturday Night Live” Al Franken skits strike a chord here.
Like many others whose lives have been lived outside the margins of a mainstream, consensual reality, guided by an unceasing compulsion to walk toward the light and hold beauty and the workings of an opening heart above nearly all else, I have at times been held captive by a weary ache to simply, somehow, belong.
Just two days ago, I fell into a jag-edged crevasse of doubt and loneliness after being carried aloft by the bliss and promise of what is unfolding with our poetry-sharing adventure. Patience, trust, and contentment with the here and now leaked from nearly every pore, evaporating when it hit the now-dense atmosphere and clogging my senses. This is not an uncommon waystation for me — this pause in between shifting breaths of consciousness — and I know full well that others of you know of what I speak.
Why hadn’t an agent responded to my query letter and leaped at the chance to represent my work of literary fiction? Given the population on Earth, why hadn’t more people rushed to become part of the Words Divinely Wrought “Initial 33”? Where was my beloved partner? Who would I turn to if I was suddenly struck by health issues and unable to care for myself? Had I lost forever the golden thread that had so often led me to be in the right place at the right time doing exactly the right thing? Exactly how much longer would my 17-year-old, four-wheeled vehicle continue to provide me with safe, reliable transport?
Can I get a witness?
My response was to drive 50 miles and walk in unannounced and unappointmented to a practitioner I have been working with – and collapse in a morass of tears on his treatment table. Even this act was fraught with waves of angst: “You know,” I told him, “I basically drive a hundred miles to pay you money just to be present with me for less than an hour, which seems like a pretty sorry situation…”
He offered everything I needed. A tweaking of my central nervous system and physical structure; a smoothing of my whacked energy; some gentle reminders about the nature of my soul’s path, the challenges I have agreed to, and the boundless Love that surrounds me. All topped off with a big ole bear hug.
I tell you this because it is so easy — even now — to slip and slide into that place where we believe we are alone and overlooked and unnoticed and freakishly separate from everything and everyone else. Each of our journeys is unique in tone and each of us navigates the byways of becoming in deeply personal ways. Or, do we? The most-cited search phrase by people who stumble upon my blog is some flavor of “I feel lost and alone,” which takes the searcher directly to this poetic dose of faith and inspiration.
Each email or comment I receive from any of you — and then share with an ever-widening community — is a precious jewel that illuminates the web of existence. Seeing your photos and hearing your excitement at being part of our emerging family lightens every heart. Knowing that Jane in England connected with Christine in Australia; that Simonetta’s Italian translations may now be carried to Italy by Janet from California; that a beautiful new friend seeks to learn more about energy and spirituality in the midst of a perfect storm of loss and transition; that Maggie from the UK will soon be a mere 140 miles from where I live and perhaps we will connect in the physical; that Christine’s banyan tree vibrational essence “for community support” mingles in my mouth each day and rests beside me as I sleep…
…this is our healing, our balm, our co-created warp and woof as together we weave this breathtakingly glorious tapestry of life on Earth.
The tears that I shed this morning upon hearing Simonetta speaking my words in Italian, sent to me from The Netherlands, are tears of remembrance and deep knowing. We are All One. There is only one of us here. In love and unity lie the hope and promise of our future.
Thank you for participating – in whatever small or large way — in Our divine adventure. There is great healing here, brought about in part by our transitory bumps, blips, and tumblings down into the abyss.
Simonetta has posted her Italian translations of Prayer for Inclusion and You Are The Prayer, along with the audio. To hear the voiced versions, scroll down toward the bottom of the page. It matters not whether you understand Italian: listen with your heart to what you (and I) know rests in our collective, unmutable spirit…
…even when sometimes we momentarily forget.