The Delicate Task (Plus One)

Orange Truck, puddles and clouds

On Your Leaving

If I were to write of your goodbye, it would sound something like this
(I dreamed of loss last night, stammered the haunting memory of the nightmare
Over coffee in the kitchen with your father, I spoke of a baby left behind in the snow)
And so in fact, it is nothing like that, but more of a chilly release of you into the cold
While I am still so warm
(And yet, the dream still haunts me)

In the knowing that you will change
And truly
I always loved you just the way you were

I am numbed by the pain of void
You were you
And I am me, plus you
Sounds so simple, perhaps it always was
You will forgive me I trust, for everything that occurred
Before your leaving came upon me
We were two, close to one
On occasion

I wept
But then you know that, I am sure
You have known me, well
In all the small goodbye’s that have been said
You quietly studied the lines on my face
Tear tracts tell good stories of what lies beneath

Please read between the lines
Knit together were we, not as womb and child
But by a deep love
The thread of which is unbreakable

In the Spring, when you return
Change will have visited me

Because you left
Me loving you
Just as you were
(Because the dream still haunts me)
When the bough breaks the cradle will fall
The snow is heavy on the trees where you are

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Honored to have a poem of mine,The Delicate Task, over at a beautiful new community of words, The Mudroom Blog (click here to go there). I would be honored if you would join me there to read this piece of poetry in its entirety:

The Delicate Task

I watched his hands, a gentle blend of weary

Each line, earned, every callous worn like a medal of honor

The request, brave and earnest

His response breathed through his fingertips, whispers waft and billow

Through the labor of his hands

His yes, a gift of patient, steady love

I look away, the chore asks for silence…..

(click here to continue reading The Delicate Task at The Mudroom)

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Joining Laura today for Playdates At The Wellspring

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In Which I Look For Mid-Week Joy

Some days I catch myself. I stop, take breathes and say, you have become very serious. I give myself permission to laugh, to lighten up, to go looking for the joy that I know already exists. I become a little more intentional about letting go, letting laughter ooze into my pores, relaxing into a belly laugh, deep crows-feet laden smiles, and breathe in pure joy.

Today is Day 9.

31 days button 500x500

I love the visual imagery these  quotes from Ann Lamott bring to my soul-weary self. It gives me permission to loosen up and to rejoice with Creator God. Celebrate that He designed laughter. Acknowledge that joy is deeply healing and necessary. I am going looking in an intentional way for more joy, more humor, more silliness.

Shall we be silly together.

Ready, Set, Go Notice.

Joy is the best make-up.–Ann Lamott

Laughter is carbonated holiness — Ann Lamott

day 9 morning glories

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Close Up Cross Labyrinth

I hope you hear the invitation to follow along via a subscription either in your reader or delivered when I post to your inbox. You may come and go whenever you like, if you choose not to subscribe. There are no rules. Just a warm welcome.

I am also on twitter, facebook and on instagram. Today I shall look for joy and post what I find on my instagram feed. Off to lighten up, to let the tears of laughter roll.

As always, thank you for being here.

Looking At Life From Behind The Lens

Orange Truck, puddles and clouds

Today is Day 8. I am so glad you are here. No really. Because practicing the art of noticing is exponentially better when you are here. If you would like to read in reverse, days 1-7, just click here to play catch up. It is safe to say I am a bit smitten by the art of noticing. And with all art forms comes practice. Diving into our craft, our art, no matter what form it takes and working at improving, fine-tuning. It goes on for all of our days.  And this noticing, it involves all our senses and some additional tools too. My camera is my third eye, my second brain, my backup band-width for my memory. It is my journal. Would you like to pull up a seat for Day 8? It is chilly today and Autumn is sneaking into my life, changing the colors of the sky. Bringing with her sweaters and the beginning of a crunchy sound under my feet and in my food. Grains and apples. The bite of a cold morning.

If we were having coffee, mine would be pumpkin something. Welcome to 31 Days of Noticing.

31 days button 500x500

There is a tension in my life. One of trying to record moments without any tools. My husband, I call him The Patient One, constantly encourages me to put my camera down. I simply cannot. I love the art form of photography. I am constantly stretching myself to see the world in new ways…..from behind the camera lens. As  writer I rely on my camera as an important tool. When I  sit down to write my poetry  I often  use a photograph as a prompt to trigger memory, to fire the neurons in my brain, to recall details and images. Is it a crutch. If so, it is an exquisite crutch. Though I am a novice, I love taking photographs.

But my husband believes that translates to my being “less present”. He sees it as a distraction. He reminds me of the importance of being in the moment, fully present. Maybe he is encouraging me to put down the visual aid and to enlist only my God given parts and pieces of myself.

So we dance, when we are together. Around this. I pull out my camera and start snapping, clicking, finger trigger-happy on my camera which is my phone, which is my camera.

Maybe I don’t trust my memory. Perhaps because Dementia runs in our family. Perhaps I feel less and less capable of recalling and remembering the scope of detail, the infinite amount of beauty in the people and landscape of my day. Perhaps I see myself as an archivist. The family historian. And honestly, I love the art form that is photography. It reminds me of where I have been and what I have seen.

And my photographs help me to focus on gratitude, love, and a “right” perspective.

Time stops for the camera but not for me. Beauty freezes in the click of my camera, but not for me. My poetry and my writing rely often of long periods of time spent reviewing my life through my lens. The lens of my photography.

I am a visual being. I know that about myself.

So as long as I have this extension to my other senses, I will take hundreds and hundreds of photographs. And I will share them with you. Are they perfect? No. Are they blurry? Sometimes yes. Are they technically perfect? Well, no.

But they help my noticing, my writing, my poetry. And they bring me so much joy.

It is my privilege and joy to be on this journey with you. This time of exploring the art of seeing our world, really noticing it. Here are a few images I’d like to share with you. Will I see you on Day 9? Oh I hope so.

OLD OLD trees as sculpture & IVY

Ready, set, go notice.

Close Up Cross Labyrinth

Little White Shed And dirt road