What Althea Hears

What Althea Hears

From across a great distance

Althea said

op3398££$&00!!!
940ttti %$%^&*mmm …….!!
¬¬¬¬¬ BB jhut mkopi D74 Se Se Se !
ӣ$$%^&

Wait.

How did she know?

How could she see my life so clearly from the other side of the world?

Yesterday was terrible. I failed. Hard.
I’d made mistakes. Made choices out of hurry and fear and worry.
Made big commitments I couldn’t keep.
Let people down. People I respect and love.
Yesterday I came clean. Admitted my failure. Exposed my flaws. Exposed my need.
Said

I just can’t do this work anymore!!!
I can’t work and live and breathe in this fucked up place—no matter the salary!!
It will kill me!
I am sorry but I have to be free.

Yesterday the whole long, horrible, bloody day felt exactly like this, Althea…

op3398££$&00!!!
940ttti %$%^&*mmm …….!!
¬¬¬¬¬ BB jhut mkopi D74 Se Se Se !
ӣ$$%^&

And you heard them!
You heard the clear and dancing silent voices of pain and of joy.

Today I can see what you were already present enough to see

I am here now
loved
forgiven
playing
creating
free

Already on the other side of op3398££$&00!!! and 940ttti %$%^&*mmm …….!!
And definitely past ¬¬¬¬¬ BB jhut mkopi D74 Se Se Se !

Also,
ӣ$$%^&
isn’t something to apologize for.

ӣ$$%^&
is the only truth that can be heard from within, across the world.

Only a creature becoming free again can make this sound.
The most beautiful sound there is…

ӣ$$%^&

Only creatures already free can hear it
close up and at a distance
even from the other side of a planet.

Althea hears the clear twin voices of pain and of joy.
Pounds away on daddy’s laptop.
Without apology.

Together

Together

a flash poem inspired by my We Shall Dance With Mountains friends. Amazing photo by Joe Milmoe…

 

Together

distant galaxies
being born
an opening hand
stretching across
the womb of space

touch the darkness
with spinning fingers
new fingertips encountering
creator being created

breathe in the heavy water
here on the sea floor
expel star dust
wiggle new toes

we dance apart
as light within the dark

as dark we soothe
stitching parts
back together

discover within ourselves
hellbender
salamander

Letting It Be

Letting It Be

a flash poem inspired by my new We Shall Dance with Mountains friends…

 

Letting It Be

soft paused cat
nose to
velvet bumblebee nose

children down on the beach
yelling to one another
in self-created language:
“Unda buda!” shout lungs
“Oggie buggie buda!” echo other lungs
my brain begins to translate
decides
just let it bee

eyes shift to a new spot
in the far tree
where eagle sits
watching her perfect huge and bumbling brown twins
practice soaring
preparing
for their approaching family vacation

eyes spot my favorite human neighbor
being walked by his timid dog
being led out, up
away from humanity
by a dog who
trembles when
human hands approach her

oh, how I love the invisibility
of sitting on the deck, high up
yet on the deck boards themselves,
on this ground, the gray wood splintering
around me

few human eyes think to look here
won’t see outside their own expected
for other humans
so I’m invisible
except to cat
and bird and
bee

except for eagle mama
whose eyes are
always on
me
feeling no need to translate

and except for you
sitting
on the sacred
on our asses
on the ground
deciding
together now
just let it be

Loving to Pieces, Autopoiesis

Loving to Pieces, Autopoiesis

Flash poetry (created and shared online in <10 minutes) inspired by an amazingly prolific and resilient researcher friend. I turned a research abstract into a poem on the fly for him. That’s me apparently: nerdy poems on the fly, no waiting. Isn’t life beautiful?

 

Loving to Pieces, Autopoiesis

emergence
resurgence
convergence

moving away
some days
from reduction mind-sets
to dance
with holist approaches

honoring context
squeezing self-organizing systems
loving to pieces, autopoiesis
misty-eyed chaotic systems
tickling multi-agent systems
blushing

running across the field
lighting up aspects and helpers
in understanding emergence

falling down laughing with stories
research and measures
bringing forth
emergent performance
flexibility
to greet agent organization
at your own dawn

researcher releasing
becoming
creator

coming
home

Our Home is a Poem

Our Home is a Poem

Happy National Poetry Month, day 6! Today I created a found-object poem. I took 20 snapshots of words and images around our home and made a poet out of them. Fun!

Our Home is a Poem

You are here
welcome
you rock
grab a beach bucket
an empty journal
or some art supplies

I am at the beach
alone
or chillin with my Gnomies
the birds
or the best husband ever
living the Yoda life
faces turned seaward
beneath a Scooby Doo moon

Guests you are welcome
so be at your ease
help yourselves to some booze
or make yourselves some tea

wabi your sabi alone with a book
or check the tide chart
come join your collective self
down at the beach

Gunman Me

Gunman Me

flash poetry for Sabina Giado

 

She showed up in my feed
after the shooting
saying the wisest of things:

“We all really need to examine ourselves and
think about what separates us from these gunmen.
Patience. Compassion. Humility. Humanity.
Will we give those values up when pushed? Food 4 thought.”

Excellent food for thought
like somebody mixed kale and chocolate chip cookies
performed a miracle
made a good meal.

First my brain threw forth a word:

poverty!

I argued with myself:

but that can imply a lack of money,
which doesn’t feel like the true difference to me,
most of the kind people I know—especially the young now
—are financially poor—and they’re the most generous people I know

My soul volunteered a thought:

No, I meant a poverty of people.

a complete lack of listening humans

present to listen
present to help me feel noticed, heard, of value

Then it hit me:

Fully present people are all that separates right-now me from gunperson-me.

“There but for the grace of God, go I.”
I heard my grandmothers and mother say within me.

“There but for the grace of Sabina,” I responded.
“Goes gunman me.”

Sabina said

“I see what you’re saying.
We need to fortify those distinctions within ourselves
however we can, even if it means valuing and listening to ourselves.
It’s hard. I’m still learning how to self-love.”

Ouch. My heart broke. Soul reeled:

How can self-love be hard for this funny, thoughtful, amazing human?
She’s so loveable that even a total stranger can feel it.

I first said this:

We’re all still learning, I think.
Might even be why we’re here.
To support each other in learning to love ourselves.

Then I wrote some #micropoetry. Because
to think and speak isn’t enough anymore, is it?

while you may struggle
to love yourself
for me
already
loving you
just feels like
breathing

minds find refuge in silence
people find refuge in presence

what sounds surround us?

the silence of presence
weeping and laughter
wind in the tree tops
water above us
souls harmonizing

and
nothing
more