i wrote the poem below last year amidst a great deal of chaos in my life. i have been revisiting its themes of late and sensing a different approach. Feeling some pieces of my life to be in a bit of chaos at the moment i read into my own meaning and am a little put off by it. who is this girl and how did she sound so enraptured with absolutely everything around her? while i still love the message of truly entering the dance, boldly stepping into the journey knowing that movement is the direction which brings change, my mood right now isn’t feeling all glorious and groovy about the path.
rather i feel quite unsure…what is in front of me, i honestly haven’t the faintest idea. i have some pretty clear intentions for myself, and i have learned that specifics are where things can get sticky, so while there are ways i would like things to look in my life, i am feeling this deep underbroiling shift. wow, on the constantly rolling waves out here on the sea of life, how do i gain my sea legs before i drown?
i have this idea that life rolls by us in these patterns of ebb and flow. while it may seem desirable that things are always going my way, i have learned the value of the waves flowing in the opposite direction from time to time. that’s where they seem to be flowing right now, not actually against me, just opposite from how they have been flowing. typically i would want to interpret this as just plain against me, but i can’t really say that now. it feels more just like i needed some learning from another source or an awakening from alternate resources. so the universe starts to shake things up for me when that kind of learning is at hand. some days it really is just not so easy to embrace the big waves in the spirit they were intended, as some kind of thrill ride. (now i understand how silly i have been to speak the words outloud…”i’m a bit of a thrillseeker”)
at any rate, the labyrinth winds on and i weave my way, i’d fancy a scooter about this point in the game for a few moments of leisurely cruising.
Winding in, gathering up, collecting all
Starting a journey, uncovering where healing steps lead
Do craftsmen commence their plan at its end or is it in beginning a craft that
paths bend towards reward?
Each step a choice that leaves a choice behind, no wonder shoes are so adored
Each pair marks a moment, an occasion, a fleeting glimpse of lessons learned and meaning gained, soul’s therapy revealed in pampering each precious toe
Feet set firmly on course; walking running tripping down, up and around.
Each bump in the road unearths a moment’s memory; how the wind blows, when children play,
Will there be dancing and singing—there is love and laughter.
Reaching center, becoming still, conscious and aware
Hand on heart to hear the rhythm beat its song—is it nourished, cared for, cherished?
Slowed steps at center, closer attention to soles, shoes, path—sticks and stones
Grateful for mercury’s thrumming wings guiding feet to halcyon heights,
And the soulful grounding of steps in guarded message and symbol’s gilded tongue
What a gift this place—right in front of us,
Life’s edges become clouded outside this moment;
And what gods we think ourselves in judging past and future by casting suspicion on the now?
In time, perspective shifts, mirrors reflect another image,
a story untold, a way not yet made known;
How now to learn the fairytale’s end, but to turn again and enter the maze
Arms open wide, wrapped around middle, raised in praise
Gather ye rosebuds while ye may
Dare we recline as Ophelia, blossoms upon our lips only in death?
We must not refuse to plough the furrow, gather the wildflower,
harvest the thistle and drink the blessed wine,
With fermentation, gestation, determination reaching unchallenged heights and countering blows in glorious song.
Life’s coil, poised to spring, unveils evolving plot
Light shone on fear reveals and releases its mystic power,
Urging us to leave known and familiar; embrace unseen and shadow
Choose a new path, conjure undreamed frontiers, birth brave new worlds
Grab your slippers and enter the mist dancing, rejoicing
A voyage is not sailed; passage not conquered,
way not made clear for those who will not begin the journey,
Paint each little piggy, thrust on your shoes and join the throng with those who run the race; not to win—but to run, to spin, to love