Poem: One square of soil

There is only one square of soil left.

It's not big enough for my roots.

Are my life's compost, worms, nutrients transportable?

Am I?

Whatev'!

I sprawl in the dirt.

Wholy messy, arms full of it, trying to take it with me

It's too much.

It tumbles down the front of me.

Then the sky cracks and goes dark

I stand suddenly wet, head back, mouth open

arms outstretched, choking, sobbing

I am undone

It is only this act that will heal.

I choose one type of love over another.

I choose one land over another.

I choose to go where I will be planted and tilled.

And where I can plant and till what is sustaining and real.

Good bye Chicago.

Going to check out Art Therapy today

Today I am going to go and try out art therapy. I'm pretty excited. I sometimes wonder if I would enjoy being an art therapist so I'm going to go and see what I think by doing. Since I'm required to go to counseling for school I figure I should try out as many types of counseling as possible. Here's a link to learn more about art therapy.

Through creating art and reflecting on the art products and processes, people can increase awareness of self and others, cope with symptoms, stress, and traumatic experiences; enhance cognitive abilities; and enjoy the life-affirming pleasures of making art.

Poem: Thou let us

By me. :)

Thou - let us
do the joy and task of relationship
the work and gift of intimacy
of balance between you, and I, and us.

Let us revel in love and the now
And at the same time stand straight and alone
rooted in the ground, in God, and our source.

Thou let us
love the world better
because we are I and thou to each other.

Unique art hanging - Fun with glue guns

So I have these three wonderful art pieces created by artist Dawn Dalto which Lo gave me for my birthday. I've been trying to figure out how and where to hang them because they are so lovely they need lots of attention. I wanted to hang them as a unit as well but they just don't stand out on a large wall. Tonight I solved my problem. I hung them on a large white canvas. I punched three bitty holes in my canvas and then shoved a small piece of a match stick in there. Then glue gunned the match stick. And finally I hung the three art pieces on the matchsticks and then hung the canvas on the wall. I love it!

Build a bear and art

So since Lo and I are doing the long distance thing we went this week and got "build-a-bear" bears. If you are wondering we got identical bears, the reading ones that donate a dollar to literacy.

Also check out this great art I got for my birthday. There was more than this but the picture of all of it didn't turn out as well. So great.

Now it's back to the real world so you will hear from me again...

Elephants are everywhere...

I know you think I'm kidding, regarding elephants being everywhere, but I'm not. Last Tuesday I brought this poem to read to my "group" at school. It has the line in it "And as elephants parade holding each elephant's tail, but if one wanders the circus won't find the park" and that was the only line of the poem people seemed to want to talk about. A bummer because it's a great poem.

One of the group members who is particularly awake (in terms of the poem) missed this session because she was in Ireland at a psychological conference. At the time she would have been in group she was having a dream about elephants spouting water with their trunks. She didn't know what it was about. AND she didn't know until yesterday that elephants was what we talked about last week. Very very weird. That she would dream about elephants right when we were discussing them.

Also ironic, that she was in Ireland for a counseling session on things like "splitting" (a counseling term) from self, other, or in the case of Ireland, also on a national level. This is what that line in the elephant poem seems to be about.

Then yesterday the restaurant I was picking up Thai take out from was closed. So I went to a different place. They had me wait in a special room that had this elephant in the picture above. It took up the entire wall. This is my favorite Thai place and I've been there many times, but never seen the elephant before. What's with elephants?

Things I've learned

I was reading William Stafford, a poet last night to Lo and then this morning because I'm bringing a poem of his to school to read today. And he had a poem where he just listed the things he's learned in his week. So I thought I'd try it. He had a lot more nature observations in his, like how he learned ants usually pass each other on the right. Mine, not so much. :)

Things I've learned

When listening to someone talk
of rules, have to's, "where it's written", rightness and on-and-on
and rigid conversations of grace, where I feel none in, or about them
I feel unable to connect with God. I have to leave to hear.

When listening to someone talk
of parables, metaphor, and personal "I" stories
while embodying grace like a poem, yet never saying the word, I want more.
God is present. I want to put the moment in my pocket.

When speaking of the world and others
if my monologue is an air filled, cotton candy, exercise
a plank to walk, a rant, or letting off steam
then there is nothing left over in the end.

When my speaking of the world and others
if my conversation is like a delightful jiggly jello mold
bringing giggly joy and color, or like a flower or pillow
then rest and joy are birthed.

When doing, stuff and tasks and writings
if I don't start, nothing gets done.
of course. "Duh", you say.

When doing, stuff and tasks and writings
if I do like this weekend, the most important first
my other tasks just fall into the container of the weekend
I get twice as much done.

But mostly I've learned in listening and speaking and doing
that context and being open to what is matters and
it's best to be ready for the mystery of the unexpected.

My poetry is going to be published!

I just got and email that said "One or more of your poems was accepted for publication in Sanctified. " I don't know if just one or both of the two poems they have are going to be published, but it was kind of fun to hear. I forgot they even had my poems, since it was quite a while ago. It's for a christian GLBT poetry anthology.

The two poems they have are below. The first one is about coming out, or about the days, weeks, years before coming out. The second one is called virginity and it's about how some in the christian community tell me I have to stay a virgin the rest of my life. Or just generally about virginity. It goes with the who owns my body blog post from October.


Poem: The Cocoon between what crawls and what flies

(from the title of a Thomas Merton Journal Entry)

I refuse to go back to crawling.
I am terrified of being seen flying.
So I live in a cocoon, a holding environment.
The cocoon between what crawls and what flies.

And when I feel it coming off, I pull it back around me.
And when people tell me how to fly, and where to fly,
Or that I can't fly forward, or should fly backward.
I go still, and pull the cocoon around me.

And then I rumble and grrrrr.
Angry, still, glaring at the world.
Because they keep me from flying
But do they? And I get even stiller and pull the cocoon around me.

But the damn thing won't stay on!
My wings are fully developed
I am bigger than the cocoon can hold
I have to face the vulnerability and judgment of the sky.

No. I'm not ready, I don't want to.
But cocoons are not meant to be forever
And there are too many living-dead already
In cocoons between what crawls and what flies

So I'll snuggle in one more day and maybe tomorrow
I'll think about, thinking about, leaving
the cocoon between what crawls and what flies.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Poem: Virginity

My virginity is NOT a thing to fix, concur, lose.
Damn-it. It just is.
My virginity, is NOT pen-ultimate, like the church says
with it's years of paranoia, making sex into more and less than it deserves.
And to "you know who you are" ms. indiana
My virginity needs no help, just contextualization.
So you rule makers and rule breakers
You who call at me from books and steeples
From dates emails and you match-up peoples.
STEP OFF!
None of you have it right.
There are no cl "first time" ad's in me.
And you, "church", throw out your "why wait" videos and
pandora's box preachers.
That unleashing is a fleecing.
You are speaking French to those who read in braille.
Me, I just waited, not for a why, but for the elements.
Don't save me from my future or force help me into it.
For you voices from the pulpit and from Ms. Indiana.
I am already saved and helped.

Poem by David Whyte

Due to a poetry loving facebook friend who posted a note I discovered a new poet and new poem that I love. I'm still looking for the poem elsewhere online to double check that this is the title but it's by David Whyte

Kathmandu
Because I am tired
and have
wasted all day in the city,
I decide to sit and
the luminous sky sits also
and fills my busy hands with calm.

The white concrete
like a high cliff above me
watches me sit
at the small table
with my white cup and black tea,
and like one of those pilgrims
who arrive at last
at the dark mountain lake,
I have found it.

And as if drawn to quiet
and the high mountains to which we go,
the mouth slips through steam
ready to drink,
alive, unspeaking,
from the black silence
at the water's edge.

Balloons of silence

I think this is more something I want to paint, but I don't have time to work on it so this will have to do. :)

On days of silence my little balloons of thought
get filled up and large
They don't flit off into the sunset
like a child's helium toy
let go of accidentally, or too soon.

They are tied to a string
and that string is tied to this chair where I sit.
In this way silence calls me to sit in color
with that red one, blue one, and yellow one.

For this time of silence my thoughts stay here
large and easy to see, closer and colored.
It's still all air and helium in my mind
but I can see what way the wind blows.

Unlike the days when my balloons travel far and fast
and are pin pricks in the sky.

Poem: About nots

My silent retreat was great, for all you who wondered. I highly recommend it. Drawing, poems, meditation, conversations with Nic, long walks with the deer (see picture) and I read four books. Here's a poem from my weekend. It has nothing to do with the picture. :)

Poem: About Nots

My greatest fear was that I would not...
That I would be _____.
That I would "not" like she has.

Not, not be alone like her, because I'm stronger than that.
Not, not "be", because she is, and I am!
But, that I would not wildly pursue love.

That I would be stagnant
Afraid of love and life "with"
solely due to my sexual orientation.

That fear of judgment
would abort abundant life.
That love would be still born
in my womb of legalistic christian perfection.

That I would "not" let the life
that wants to live in me, live.

A life of risk and kisses
A life of sweetness and embodiment
A life that risks for love without fear.

That I would "not" let love drive out fear.

Beautiful Winter!

Winter storms that get you sent home from work are fantastic. Here are some pictures from around where I live of the snow.

You can do it

So yesterday was so long! My tests lasted all day. I learned my main aptitude is ideaphoria, which is brainstorming and coming up with new ideas. And j came last night from Belgium so we stayed up until 1 something talking. I am so tired. So I therefore am giving my own self this sign, as well as you.

I/you can do it. (see the other guerrilla art here)

My guerrilla art adventure!

Last night Lynnae and I painted 9 art pieces and then went out in the snow and nailed them to trees, light poles, and park benches in our city. I put the "you are beautiful" one in a local restaurants bathroom. It was so fun. And we didn't get caught, cause you know, the sentiment is nice, but maybe not everyone wants us nailing art to their tree. I got the idea from jenlemen here and kerismith.com guerrilla artist page here. She says:

Guerilla art is a fun and insidious way of sharing your vision with the world. It is a method of art making which entails leaving anonymous art pieces in public places. It can be done for a variety of reasons, to make a statement, to share your ideas....My current fascination with it stems from a belief in the importance of making art without attachment to the outcome. To do something that has nothing to do with making money, or listening to the ego.

Here are just a few pictures. I so hope the mass of snow we just got didn't cover them up or ruin them. Also posted this for this week's inspiremethursday.com theme "leaving your comfort zone" . This defiantly did that!



Twas fun.

Inspire me thursday: Giving upside-down painting

I generally love color, but for some reason lately I just want to paint things in black and white. This painting is about much more than giving, but I am posting it for the inspire me Thursday giving theme because the upper right square is my image for giving.

It's supposed to be upside down because I like thinking about giving as something that is a contrarian act. Even though at Christmas it's the thing to do, to really give we have to break the pattern we normally live in.

Sometimes giving causes us to turn ourselves upside down. When I worked on staff at a Bible Camp we called this the "upside-down kingdom". The upside down kingdom was a world where we gave instead of took, served instead of led, and where the last would be first.

Poem: Too green tree grief

Gathering firewood, I want to hear that crack of a branch snapping off.
Dry wood is better for fires.
But my branches are too green inside to break clean.

I try and break off a thin branch and it's messy
it half breaks and stays half attached.
I get sap on my hands.
The rest of the limb has to be pealed from the tree.

Maybe it's good for something?
To be more bendy and green.
But I still want to hear that sound of a clean snap
and want what that would be for a fire
a quick hot burning short lived grief.

---------------
Grief is so much better, easier, the stages quicker...when the break is a quick snap.
I feel disgusted with the tree limbs in my heart and their green, sappy, inner bendiness.
I want these limbs to be useful for fires and building now.

Inspire me thursday: Paradox - a remix

At inspiremethursday I suggested a theme (paradox) because I think it would be fun to do multiple paintings that represent paradox that flow from this one above. I also suggested it because I really want to see what other people would do with it. I haven't been painting much these days (sadly) because of random trips to Belgium and such... so this is great motivation for me to get at it. I also found this quote that I like that represents paradox. So I just did a little text treatment of it.

We all have paradox in our lives. It's both/and living.

Dismiss whatever insults your own soul

This is what I wrote a few days ago and below is a Walt Whitman poem that I have been thinking about this week. The two of them, although they just met, have sat down for tea in my mind. Wonder what kind of tea they are having?

Sigh. Deep body tired sigh.
It's finished.
Not cosmically, not of growth or development.
The beginnings are finished.
I will always know that once in my life
I fully voiced that which previously was unvoiceable.
Despite fears
I stepped in to the zone of bravery
and lived.
And now?

- by me

And this part of my heart sits down with the below heart. I see hints at answers to some of my questions in it. The line that stands out to me in this is "Dismiss whatever insults your own soul". What does that mean? The first thing I think of is the book my folks gave me, it insults my soul. I also love the line "stand up for the stupid and crazy". I wish I did that more! I want to be this sort of person....

Love the earth and sun and the animals,
Despise riches, give alms to everyone that asks,
Stand up for the stupid and crazy,
Devote your income and labors to others,
Hate tyrants, argue not concerning God,
Have patience and indulgence toward the people,
Take off your hat to nothing known or unknown,
Or to any man or number of men,
Go freely with powerful uneducated persons,
And with the young and with the mothers of families,
Read these leaves in the open air,
Every season of every year of your life,
Reexamine all you have been told,
At school at church or in any book,
Dismiss whatever insults your own soul,
And your very flesh shall be a great poem.
- Walt Whitman

O and I had a major impulse buy when I purchased the new Annie Lennox CD at Starbucks this a.m. "Songs of Mass Destruction". So far I'm most intrigued with the title "through the glass darkly" being that's a biblical reference that I think about often lately.

Procrastination through buying art!

I am supposed to be writing a paper on the salient aspects of my culture and how they would impact how I counsel. Instead I'm reading rss feeds and purchasing art.

But, look at the great inspirational painting I just purchased! It's happy art! Not that art can ever be categorized but there's some art for me that is "happy art". When dumbed down it sometimes can get a bit cheesy. But this artist seems to always give me warm fuzzies without the cheesiness. And her painting today is one I think PERFECT for my journey of coming out. So I'm going to have it framed. At least if I'm not doing art someone is!

It's titled "Tired of Secrets" by Jen Lemen

And the girl in the picture looks nothing like me but I still feel like it's about me anyway! O happy day!

Poem: Titrating anger

This is only sortof a poem. Not my favorite and I keep editing the blasted thing. I was crabby. And I posted it and felt a little better. I listened to Sara Bareillies and felt a bit better. Then I saw this picture on Deb's "things could be worse" post here and it made me laugh out loud. So poetry is good for anger. Humor is good. I am pondering other things like throwing a pot--a clay one! :) And no I'm not angry with anyone who reads this blog. And I don't think it's about my parents either.

Titrating anger

Someone said to me the other day "you are delightful"
People who are delightful don't get angry, "Do they?"
But I am. And I want it seen and heard, damn it.
"Um, is that ok?" I say sheepishly.

I am angry that I am angry.
I feel shame that I am angry.
I think I should not ever be angry.
So I try and titrate it.

A drop of blog voice here.
A drop of story about why, and them, and what.
A drop of holding still and feeling feelings,
not running away.

A deep breathe.
And the color changes from red to blue.
There is no explosion.
I might be ok.