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necessary autumn

For this second week of my journey, I’ve prepared a few poems and what-nots I hope you will enjoy.  I wonder if this will also reflect my process over this week?

A Necessary Autumn Inside Each

You and I have spoken all these words, but as for the way
we have to go, words

are no preparation.  There is no getting ready, other than
grace.  My faults

have stayed hidden.  One might call that a preparation!
I have one small drop

of knowing in my soul.  Let it dissolve in your ocean.
There are so many threats to it.

Inside each of us, there’s continual autumn.  Our leaves
fall and are blown out

over the water.  A crow sits in the blackened limbs and talks
about what’s gone.  Then

your generosity returns: spring, moisture, intelligence, the
scent of hyacinth and rose

and cypress.  Joseph is back!  And if you don’t feel in
yourself the freshness of

Joseph, be Jacob!  Weep and then smile.  Don’t pretend to know
something you haven’t experienced.

There’s a necessary dying, and then Jesus is breathing again.
Very little grows on jagged

rock.  Be ground.  Be crumbled, so wildflowers will come up
where you are.  You’ve been

stony for too many years.  Try something different.  Surrender.

Rumi

From The Soul of Rumi translated by Coleman Barks

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missives from the front

I love the dark hours of my being.
My mind deepens into them.
There I can find, as in old letters,
the days of my life, already lived,
and held like a legend, and understood.

Then the knowing comes: I can open
to another life that’s wide and timeless.

So I am sometimes like a tree
rustling over a gravesite
and making real the dream
of the one its living roots
embrace:

a dream once lost
among sorrows and songs.

—Rilke, Love Poems to God

A deep bow of gratitude to all of you who have commented on last week’s posts. I am touched and sustained that the words you find here are meaningful to you.

I’ve learned so much in this first week of the Chaplaincy program – not the least being the sad truth that institutionalized marginalization and the silencing of the self lives on strong and vibrant.   On a lighter note, there were indescribable moments of listening to Joanna Macy read Rilke! Barry, not a bra was left unshed in the house!

One more week to go!

Pray, burn incense, offer sacrifice!

Genju (perhaps…)