…is vitality, says Andrew Solomon. Spot-on eloquence and tear-evoking insight, worth the 30 minutes to feel/hear this medicine of clarity. It is another example of what I recognize in my own life as radical grace.
Robin Williams ended his life. And it reverberates across the world, this collective uproar of loss realized. Images, endless scrolls and screens of Robin Williams’ memories and tributes. His face speaks something other than tragedy. His presence, as long as we had the privilege of it, upheld a priceless gift. It’s hard to reconcile that he would find it within himself to end it all, that someone…
“Our logic says that what happens to you doesn’t matter to me, what happens to the world isn’t happening to me, but our hearts disagree. This logic contradicts our felt experience…what’s happening to children in Haiti…to child soldiers in Africa…to the whales…to the forest…that’s happening to me too. That’s something we can feel, that’s why it hurts when you see that photo of the sea bird…
The heart of the soles of my feet of dancing sigh…they ache on earth pulsing a song long begun, hearing ancient knowing, yearning through the toes to the top of my head.
No ounce of will can bend the tides without the moon’s say so. No gumption of the reddest desire can re-write the years gone by or shift the mountain aside.
So, my feet wait and sigh, humming earth tunes through my being,…
“One cannot have doubt about that which he wishes to trust. To trust love you must be convinced of love. One cannot admit what he does not yield to. To yield to love you must be vulnerable to love. One cannot love what he does not dedicate himself to. To dedicate yourself to love you must be forever growing in love.” Leo Buscaglia
shore breaks here whisper
something about constancy.
Gonna buy me some fabric at the store by the coastal mystery, the one with no roof
and no walls ‘cept for rows and rows of fabric rolled up waiting for newness and creative wonder
and a woman whose hair is white, her hands full of keys, so many keys as she laughs at me, but not mocking.
She’s on the shoreline in the white sand at the counter and the cash register is awaiting her usual purchase.…
chasing daylight blind,
slip covering soft on soul…
my eyes failed to see
blinding clarity’s assault,
suggested love flow.
and within me now
the seeing reveals truth’s hide.
cover me quickly…
relocate heart in,
and behind the bars of life’s
j. ruth kelly, 2014
I almost titled this “Idiot Nation” but decided to stick with the last theme or subject: love. And then I wrestled with my anger since I’m not feeling the love for the recent Supreme Court ruling in favor of Hobby Lobby’s idiocy. So, the only place to land was how the ruling isn’t love and how it isn’t about religious freedom but about domination over, rule over, subjugation of women.
I grew up…
“Love is a momentary upwelling of three tightly interwoven events: first, a sharing of one or more positive emotions between you and another; second, a synchrony between your and the other person’s biochemistry and behaviors; and third, a reflected motive to invest in each other’s well-being that brings mutual care.” Barbara Fredrickson
Stepping out into a sudden deluge of rainpour, I found wet…
a question arising sings my stance: still, enclosed; love brews my fresh refusal of drive by blithe, unfeeling.