​Miracles
 
I set out this morning to write
 
a thousand words on
 
the subject of miracles.
 
It would be an erudite message
 
to be held close.
 
Then I laughed with myself
 
How can one write a thousand
 
words explaining
 
what arrives with the sun
 
forcing one to wear those
 
eclipse viewing glasses?
 
How can write about what is
 
clearly beyond comprehension?
 
 Miracles
 
         A child – any child.
         Freedom from active addiction.
         The soothing hum of a mother
         touching the heart of the slaves as they rowed.
         Poems of Emily Dickinson, Nikki Giovanni,
         Billy Collins, Alice Walker and countless others.
 
         The art on my wall which steadies my soul while
I find myself
 
         again.
 
A long distant hug.
 
Peace in Ireland
 
Too numerous to mention
 
miracles simply arrive
 
To be savored
 
         enjoyed
 
         received with grace
 
         handled with care.
 
Miracles are.
 
Written August 26, 2017
 
        
 

For some reason, last night a favorite poet of my, Nikki Giovanni, who had been resting in the recesses of my mind for some time, popped into my consciousness for a visit.  Her poem “Winter Poem” came to mind.  The poem is, for me, a metaphor for evolution or the process of becoming.  Perhaps I thought of it because I had earlier last evening talked with parents of a 26-year-old son who is exploring reclaiming himself from the chains of addiction.  This very fine young man who has seemingly been captured,  bound, and locked in a room by addiction for far too long has always held onto the tiny sliver of a prison door “window”  - you know, the kind that guards look through – to try to see a world outside that door. Of course, as with any prison door, nothing but the bleak hall way was available for viewing.  Yet, sometimes it was enough to remind him that hallways had to have a way out.

It seems overly simplified to suggest that it is enough to love this  young man – to hold tight to that seed within him which is just waiting to burst open – to blossom into that bundle of love which is aching to spring forth into life .  I know that seed has always been there, but when one sees that sliver of light which catches the shining life which hides behind the door, it is  sometimes difficult to trust one’s sense.  

Let me share with you Nikki Giovanni’s poem, “Winter Poem.”

TUESDAY, SEP 01ST, 2009

Winter Poem, Nikki Giovanni

once a snowflake fell
on my brow and i loved
it so much and i kissed
it and it was happy and called its cousins
and brothers and a web
of snow engulfed me then
i reached to love them all
and i squeezed them and they became
a spring rain and i stood perfectly
still and was a flower

As the snowflakes of life fall on us, it is easy to dismiss one snowflake as “just a snowflake.”  The snowflake may arrive in the form of a kind word, a smile, a thinking of you card.  It may arrive as something the size of a mustard seed.  We may find it easy to brush it off.  Instead, as Ms.  Giovanni suggests, one is called to stand perfectly still, embrace it  while it calls its cousins and brothers.

Sometimes I have been in an evangelical  or Pentecostal church service – often an African American service – and watched as “the spirit” visits one of the members of the congregations. Suddenly the person is surrounded by a loving circle ready to hold and embrace while still allowing room to  fully birth the spirit.  Once the birth is complete the person may fall  down in an exhaustion which always follows birth of an idea, a new creation, a baby, or love.  The members of the congregation who are used to bearing witness to such births give thanks. One can hear the chorus of “Praise Jesus.”

If one is visiting such a service for the very first time  one may get a bit anxious and uncomfortable. The nakedness of the emotion and the uncertainly about what has possessed this person may make one want to leave. Yet,  if one stays and even returns, one learns to be one of those who encircles without smothering or directing.

That is what we must do with the suffering addict, the growing child, the  emerging idea, or the potential healing.  We must stand by with love and envision the dissolution of the shell which is protecting the egg.   Around the world there are many healing techniques such as Ayurveda which focuses on using positive energy to heal.  There are reports of tumors dissolving following the circling of the bed of the patient by the health care team who simply send positive, healing energy to the individual.  Often many in our Western culture have a difficult time trust this very scientific corralling of the energy fields.  

I am going to assume that all of us have had the experience of entering a space – a house, car, hotel, conference room, garden – which feels very negative.  We “intuitively” know that something negative has gone on in this space and has left a lot of that negative energy which threatens to engulf and trap us.  We know that energy is real and that it can be measured.  It is a life force and, yet, because we cannot see it (some apparently can see it) we doubt its effectiveness.  We like something more “evidence based.” Evidence based is the current “test” for the cost effectiveness of a treatment for addiction, mental illness, broken limbs, or some other “dis ease” of the human body.  We do not want to pay for something which cannot be  outlined in concrete steps and which we can’t “see” and measure.  If we tell the insurance company that we are just going to stand or sit very quietly and “send” positive energy to the person – that we are just going to send energy to crack open that mustard seed which is then going to spread out and take over the body of the person healing as it invades very cell -  we are likely to be told that the insurance company is not going to pay. Our supervisor will chide us for not being evidence based. 

Yet, there is solid evidence that loving, positive energy heals. Always?  No. It does seem as if there is a time also for the end of this life journey.  There is in the words of Ecclesiastes

For everything there is a season,
A time for every activity under heaven.
A time to be born and a time to die.
A time to plant and a time to harvest
A time to kill and a time to heal
A time to tear down and a time to build up.
A time to cry and a time to laugh.
A time to grieve and a time to dance.
A time to scatter stones and a time to gather stones.
A time to embrace and a time to turn away.
A time to search and a time to quit searching.
A time to keep and a time to throw away.
A time to be quiet and a time to speak.
A time for war and a time for peace.

While I might personally think that there is a danger in taking this passage too literally, I do know that I am not in charge and that there are times which I need to actively engage in the art of healing/loving and times when I need to let go. Sometimes I just need to let the snowflakes come and take over.

Winter Poem by Niki Giovanni

once a snowflake fell
on my brow and i loved
it so much and i kissed
it and it was happy and called its cousins
and brothers and a web
of snow engulfed me then
i reached to love them all
and i squeezed them and they became
a spring rain and i stood perfectly
still and was a flower

Nikki  Giovanni  - Snowflakes into Flowrs

For some reason Ms. Giovanni decided to make a visit  today.   I had not thought of her and her wise, delightful poems for some time.  Perhaps the thought of gratitude triggered the memory of her. My memory tells me that I once heard her say “If there is anything worse than having an unequal share of the world resources, it is having them and not even appreciating or enjoying them.”  I have no idea if my memory is accurate, but I think that this is close to what she said.  I do recall that every time I was lucky enough to attend a poetry reading or a talk by her I came away feeling richer.    I have lost track of her and have not seen a new book by her in some time. I have no idea if she is still teaching or writing although I found no mention on the internet that she was retired or that she had met with an untimely death.

One of poems which I recall is “Winter Poem”

         Once a snowflake fell

         on my brow and I loved

         it so much and I kissed

         it and it was happy and called its cousins

         and brothers and a web

         of snow engulfed me then

         I reached to love them all

         And I squeezed them and they became

         A spring rain and I stood perfectly

         Still and was a flower

I have no idea if she intended for me to hear this poem as a metaphor for the richness we could all enjoy if we would just be still and welcome each other.     This is how I heard it. Just now, as I was reading it, I was reminded of how simple it would be if we would just allow ourselves to tap into our own essential goodness and from that rich core welcome others to our safe circle of being.  Obviously, we humans often seem unable to take the risk of doing this.

Early this morning I was touched to find a voice mail from a dear friend who had recently misunderstood something I said.  He called to apologize.  This very good man is grieving the loss of his wife. He knows, of course, that her intention was not to leave him but leave him she did.  She was merely taking care of herself the best way she  could envision at the time she ended her life.  It must feel to him as if she has broken the bond of trust which made their relationship so rich.  When someone with whom we have such a close relationship seems to break the bond of trust,  I think it is easy to become fearful of trusting anyone.  From this place of fear we humans can “see” reasons to push others away.   Thus, when I said something, it was easy for him to hear something which I did not intend.   When he heard that he became very protective and told me to stay away from him. I felt really bad about not being clearer in my communication with him. In fact I had to retrieve the email note I had sent to him to try to identify what I had said that could be so easily misinterpreted. 

I then wrote him a note and let him know how sorry I was and why I had said what I said. I was perfectly willing to accept responsibility for not being as clear as I needed to be.  I was also very clear that my only recourse, other than writing a note which I knew he would or would not read, was to keep loving this man. That was easy because I know that this very fine man was the very same man I had loved for some time just as his wife even in death was the very same, wonderful woman I know. 

There is that very human part of me which can, at some level, take the action of another personally.  I might then, if not thinking, react by pushing them away with unkind words.

Fortunately, with practice, I am getting better at not saying or doing anything immediately when something  someone says or does triggers an old fear of mine.  I may still experience the fear and “feel” like protecting myself my reacting and blaming  them. I know, however, that I cannot cause another person to behave in a certain way.  I certainly can, unintentionally, be inconsiderate and  say or do something which is sure to trigger some tender spot in them.

I can also be unaware of how challenging I can be.   Just today it was pointed out to me that I was being very challenging in a confrontive manner. I was unaware of coming across that way.  I was not thinking I wanted to challenge this man, but, in truth, that was exactly what I was doing.   It was not my place to do this although I would love for this man to have a richer life. Of course, he needs to decide that is what he wants.  My behavior was about my need for him to have what I consider a richer life and not about him at all. Yikes!  As much as I hate to admit it this truth is more accurate than the one I was telling myself.

At this point in my life, I certainly understand the metaphor of being that snowflake which calls all its cousins and embraces someone until that flower emerges. Yet, often, I still fall into the trap of attempting to force the process rather than just patiently allowing it.

Today was Gay Pride day in Pittsburgh.  It is also the Pittsburgh Art Festival.  Downtown Pittsburgh was packed with people of every orientation, cultural background, gender and age.  Everyone I saw seems to be just welcoming each other in a warm embrace.  Some of those participating in Gay pride or just participating in the spirit of the day were in very colorful costumes and, indeed, were, glorious flowers.  Good for you Pittsburgh, Today, from what I observed you created the space for the blossoming of many flowers.

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