An Anthology of Prayers
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The act of making is not frivolous.
It is a necessity, a survival tool.
A space to place your mind and heart in the midst of chaos.
1. The Prayer
The dog lies beside me, waiting
there are shadows across the floor
sunlight filters through the trees
in the air of death the spirits journey.
There is no knowing
only, waiting
this death is of an unknown origin
not the body
not the soul
a death of expectations
surety
a death of thinking one knows
In this air of death
where a dream has died
a heart has broken
a past is only a memory
the spirits journey
The dog lies beside me, waiting
there are shadows across the floor
and sunlight filters through the trees
2. The Revelation
Keep writing in the midst of chaos.
That place you can't think your way out of.
Yesterday I botanical printed two pieces of silk,
slowing my mind down to essentials.
Placed leaves in delicate patterns.
Breathe in. Calm. I can handle this.
I wrapped each bundle tight, like a hug.
Today I envision pieces of silk, torn in strips,
each one a story with two endings.
It could go this way or it could go that way.
Today I will sew them together.
A patchwork
from the leaves found in our woods:
Anthology of life prayers.
Today I will choose silk with love, no fear.
I like this one. Its pattern is underwater ripples.
Those currents of despair and agony always running underneath
creating vibrance and elegance on top.
Making brings us into the moment,
the only place where peace and happiness live.
The only place the mind stops,
if only for a moment.
Now vulnerable,
the silk's ready to be covered with leaves I've gathered on my walk.
Breathe, I say each time I bend over to pick one up, considering placement.
For a moment my worried mind has stopped.
Today I am focused on walnut leaves.
They penetrate deeply through several layers,
unless I place a resist underneath.
That is always the question.
What do we want to resist and what do we want to embrace?
In the beginning, when I was younger,
I wanted to embrace everything.
Now I only want reassurance that everything will be okay.
Of course it will be,
if I stay in the moment.
Once I went to a wise woman.
Confused, I didn't know which decision to choose.
She said it didn't matter.
I would learn something either way.
What is it about pacing?
The walking back-and-forth, seeking important work.
Something to do.
A task that will change the course of a river
with tributaries leading in many directions.
Thinking while pacing.
What to make to stop this aimless walk to nowhere?
I wait without pacing.
Soaking up impressions.
This evening I will eat alone.
Something small.
I won't watch a movie, either.
I like the quiet.
I keep writing in the midst of chaos.
That place I can't think my way out of.
