Elul Day 29 - Return

Return.
Again.
I have returned again
to this place of
Fullness,
this place of everythingness;
and I feel empty.
Hollow.
Again.
I fling my sins,
all bright copper
and colored feathers,
out into the heavens -
Which is separate from the earth,
Which is separate from the waters,
and they fly
like birds,
and dance
and dazzle.
They are beautiful,
these sins of mine,
as they catch the light.
I am caught in their beauty,
racing after them.
They drift and fall
like so many crooked arrows,
and I collect them,
to turn them
back to me
before I move on
to the next

Gate.

Elul Day Thirteen: Remember

There are times
I am caught by memory,
like a blanket.
warmed and wrapped
and sinking,
so that I long to stay
in its embrace.

There are times
memory catches at me,
at the sharp edges
and rusty corners.
It is not a liquid moment,
not fluid, or surging
in a noisy back and forth
and in and out
like the sea,
but ragged,
often drawing
blood.

There are times
I have no memory,
no remembrance
at all - there is
not a blank wall
upon which to draw
lines that dip and dance
and pirouette
as my fancy and
logic dictate,
but an absence,
a nothingness of
silence and cold
that swallows
light
and pain
and joy.

Or so I think,
I think.
So I believe,
I hope, that
perhaps the Gates
stand guard over all
that absence
that guards my pain,
my light
and joy.

Perhaps I need only
to step through.


#blogelul

Prepare - Day One Elul

I have to say, I got the list early. At least a month ago. More than enough time to write a few essays, draft a poem or two. More than enough time to, you know, prepare.

Don't get me wrong - I've written some in my head. I would love to say, I've really thought about a few, laid out some mental framework for a bunch. I'd love to, but it's really kinda snarky to lie now, of all times, it being Elul and all. I've thought about this essay, this prompt, none of the others.

At first, all I could think of was Boy Scouts. Obviously, I've never been one. I was a Brownie for a bit of a year, until my mother backed out of being co-leader when she realized that volunteering meant more than offer and want, that showing up was a part of it. I may have no idea what the Brownie or Girl Scott (or Campfire Girls or even Indian Princesses) motto might be, but I know the one for the Boy Scouts: Be Prepared.

Interesting that it's in the passive voice. While I'm sure the message of the motto is fraught with activity, on its face, it is, nevertheless, passive, to be acted upon rather than to be a mover of worlds.

From there, I skipped easily over to Godspell. Of course I skipped there. I can't not hear those opening notes, so pure and unadorned - "Prepare ye, the way of the Lord..." Yes, yes: I know. It is, perhaps, slightly odd to reference that particular musical in this particular context, but it is, to me, perfectly in tune with Elul. Get ready, says the song, there's a God thing about to happen! There is so much quiet joy in this song, that starts with a single voice and build and grows to many. Let's all get get ready, get moving, get mindful, because the time is now, today and then the car broke. Again. And the car needed to be towed. Again. And I had to get the loaner. And then groceries and dishes and sweeping and mopping and I had a date.and the cat needed to play, every time my fingers hit the keyboard and the boy, my beloved boy, he needed dinner and attention and time. And there was something skittering around in my head, about packing and getting ready for a trip and how that was less preparation and more taking a little bit of everything I own, just in case, and there are a few people I need to get back to dammit I forgot to pick up the prescription and

Who the hell has time to prepare?

And so I'm late. As usual. All the prep time in the world, and I come in late. Unfinished, or just barely not. A thousand thoughts swirling in my head, some of them even about Elul and Prepare and this blessed need to stop and breathe and dive in, headlong, prepared or not.

And that's it, really: ready or not, prepared or just barely, this is it. Even in those rare moments when I feel totally prepared, life can so throw me for a loop and send me spinning. This is the prep work, this month, this mindful time, being in it, living and diving and bending the light just so, allowing me to examine the year I have lived, and how I showed up for it (or didn't).

Stop. Breathe. Dive.

Rosh Chodesh Elul sameach.
(grateful for a two day rosh chodesh)
(and now onto Day Two: Act)

#blogelul

#BlogElul 7 - Be

I live in an awesome universe. I know, I know - I have written much about my tiny little universe of one, and how it's dark and twisty and solitary and forever. And yes, I live in that one, of course. But I live in many universes, all at the same time, and all of them are real and correct and forever.

And today, for this  minute at least, I live in an awesome universe.

This is the universe where everyone - yes, everyone, including my fifteen year old son - everyone does everything the Right Way. Lines move quickly, if there are lines at all. Coffee is ordered succinctly, without flavors or add-ins that turn good coffee into an ice cream drink. Everyone drives the requisitie number of miles over the speed limit, staying well out of my way. No one misuses who or whom, and apostrophes and commas are all in their proper places. In fact, no one does stupid stuff at all.

In short, in this happy place universe, everyone does exactly what I would do (or what I'd want them to do, but without me having to tell them how to do it My Way).

Everyone would see right and wrong the way I do, exactly. Everyone would know, as a matter of course, that we are, in fact, our brother's keepers. There would be houses for everyone to live in, access to medical care and food and clean water. Everyone would be safe. Cared for. Cared about. There would be no needy.

Everyone would love, and be loved, exactly the way I see it in my head. Exactly the right way.

Everyone would grieve the right way. The way I know it should be done. There would be the exacly right expression of grief, the exactly right mix of emotions - grief and sadness and honor and remembrance, for the exactly right length of time to grieve.

Awesome.

Except that's a little fantasy world that lives only in my head. First of all - what a scary universe it would be if it followed the dictates of my head. Oy. Even I know what a bad idea that would be: eventually, it would be my vision of that dark and twisty universe of one times infinity. Or at least the number of people in the world, wno would all... Ugh. That sentence is too scary to even finish.

Grief. In my awesome world, grief is one way. Always. The right way. My way. But in the world outside my head, grief is infinite in its expression, limited only by the number of people it has touched. It is my job, not to teach people the error of their grieving ways, but to let their grief - and their love and sorrow and joy and pain - to let that be. To honor their grief, to be there, to offer comfort or witness or strength, but to let it be. Let it be, to sing or sink or settle in its own pathways. Let it be, to flow like honey or rage like a torrent. It is not mine, nor mine to teach or control.

I am grateful that this is Elul, so that I come into my days prepared to see differently, be present differently. Dive deeper, bend further, reach up and out and towards.

God of Infinite Mercy, let me learn, during this sacred month of Elul the lesson of being and letting be.