Daily Poem: The Wild Iris ~ Louise Glück

May 11, 2017 | Filed Under Poem for Hela | Comments Off on Daily Poem: The Wild Iris ~ Louise Glück

The Wild Iris
Louise Glück

At the end of my suffering
there was a door.

Hear me out: that which you call death
I remember.

Overhead, noises, branches of the pine shifting.
Then nothing. The weak sun
flickered over the dry surface.

It is terrible to survive
as consciousness
buried in the dark earth.

Then it was over: that which you fear, being
a soul and unable
to speak, ending abruptly, the stiff earth
bending a little. And what I took to be
birds darting in low shrubs.

You who do not remember
passage from the other world
I tell you I could speak again: whatever
returns from oblivion returns
to find a voice:

from the center of my life came
a great fountain, deep blue
shadows on azure seawater.

 

Wild Iris by Ron White

Wild Iris by Ron White

Intent and Action

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Knowing is not enough; we must apply. Willing is not enough; we must do.
~ J.W. Goethe

Pretty much any spirit worker will tell you that they’ve had at least one client who simply refuses to acknowledge this saying. It usually goes something like this:

Client: I need a reading about getting a job. I’ve been looking, but haven’t found anything.

Reader: Okay, give me an idea of what you’ve been doing.

Client: I did a candle spell, and wrote the coolest poem for it! Perfectly rhymed, ABACABAC. Eighteen verses!

Reader: How much time each day do you spend looking?

Client: And then I made this really cool prosperity charm! It has a replica historic coin, and everything!

Reader: Have you had someone help you update your resume?

Client: No, but a friend of mine told me about this interesting spell he read about—

Reader: To redo your resume?

Client: No, it calls on angels to help you find a job!

Reader: So, your resume—

Client: I know about all that other stuff, like resumes, and they’re not important. It’s all about using magic to get the job!

Reader (internally): Okay, then, it’s one of those readings.


You can know all the technical details of something, but if you don’t put that knowledge to work, it doesn’t do you any good.

You can light all the candles you want, compose all the spells you want, create all the charms you want; but if you don’t actually take action to move toward your goal, it’s not going to happen. Period.

Gather information. Consider options. Make a decision. Take action.

You don’t have to have a painstakingly detailed 100-point plan in order to start. You need some kind of plan, because getting from where you are to where you want to be is not one long improvisational exercise. But you do have to take action.

Your plan will change. You will make adjustments as your circumstances change, or your time and energy and interest ebb and flow. Perhaps your goal itself changes, and then the plan is replaced by a new map to reach a new goal. But you do have to take action.

But it doesn’t matter how much or how little you plan if you don’t take action

You have to do something in order to achieve something.

Decide, then do. Take action.

Daily Poem: Church-Monuments ~ George Herbert

May 10, 2017 | Filed Under Poem for Hela | Comments Off on Daily Poem: Church-Monuments ~ George Herbert

Once again, the daily poem syncs up with today’s other posts.

Church-Monuments
George Herbert

While that my soul repairs to her devotion,
Here I entomb my flesh, that it betimes
May take acquaintance of this heap of dust;
To which the blast of death’s incessant motion,
Fed with the exhalation of our crimes,
Drives all at last, Therefore I gladly trust

My body to this school, that it may learn
To spell his elements, and find his birth
Written in dusty heraldry and lines;
Which dissolution sure doth best discern,
Comparing dust with dust, and earth with earth.
These laugh at jet and marble put for signs,

To sever the good fellowship of dust,
And spoil the meeting. What shall point out them,
When they shall bow, and kneel, and fall down flat
To kiss those heaps, which now they have in trust?
Dear flesh, while I do pray, learn here thy stem
And true descent: that when thou shalt grow fat,

And wanton in thy cravings, thou mayst know,
That flesh is but the glass, which holds the dust
That measures all our time; which also shall
Be crumbled into dust. Mark, here below
How tame these ashes are, how free from lust,
That thou mayst fit thyself against thy fall.

That Which is Sacred

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I saw an amazing production of Steve Waters‘ play “Temple” at the Aurora Theatre in Berkeley over the weekend. With a running time of 97 minutes, it’s not a lengthy show, but days later, I am still thinking about many of the characters, and the ideas and ideals they present.

The one character in the play who has no connection to the Cathedral, either as a building or an institution, is Gemma, the attorney representing the corporation of the City of London. She is young, intelligent, ambitious, and accustomed to dealing with even the most difficult situations with logic, law, and an efficiency utterly detached from human considerations.

When Gemma arrives at the church to discuss the situation with the Dean of the Cathedral, she enters smiling, and bearing a small box of cupcakes as an apparent means of fostering connection—breaking bread together in a 21st century way. She is sharp-dressed and sharp-minded, and, in the beginning at least, maintains control of her sharp tongue. When she leaves, she pointedly takes the cupcakes with her; they were not meant as a gift to be shared freely, but instead symbolize her expectation of (coerced, if necessary) cooperation.

The gap between Gemma and the Dean is not simply one of age, gender, or affiliation. What Gemma lacks, and what is key for the Dean, is the concept of the sacred. The Dean views the situation not simply as a person, but as a prelate with a duty of custodial care for both the building and institution of St. Paul’s Cathedral, as well as a priest with a duty of pastoral care for the people to whom it is their home of worship.

For Gemma, the Cathedral is a building, merely another structure on another plot of land within the geographical jurisdiction of the City. Gemma pointedly asks the Dean for the hierarchy of his organization, in order for her to understand the chain of authority. The Dean replies that he reports to a higher authority than a temporal governor. Gemma’s only interest in the hierarchy is in order for her to assign liability—that is, who she would sue on behalf of the City—should something untoward occur on church property as a result of the Occupy protest on its property. Since she cannot sue God, she will settle for suing the Dean.

Gemma has no understanding of the building’s importance to both the institution and the individuals who tend to it, and who attend it. For her, there is nothing special about it, except perhaps its historical significance. She is unable to comprehend that it is more than a building, and that the people who make up the Chapter (its governing body) are more than just functionaries and fiduciaries running a business.

This lack of understanding of the sacred cannot simply be attributed to Gemma’s lack of affiliation with the Anglican Church. Plenty of people who have some kind of connection with an organized religion or established place of worship likewise lack a sense of the sacred. It is an element missing in their personal education, in their family of origin, in their early cultural experiences, that they never acquired. And because they are incapable of understanding the sacred, they are limited in their ability to understand the point of view of those whose worldview encompasses the sacred, and are frustrated when their attempts to reduce the world to mechanical, numerical efficiency are rejected by those for whom the sacred is real.

For those who do not understand the inherent value of the sacred, everything simply has a price. For Gemma, there is no value to the building, or the institution, or to the work it does for its community; there is only the financial risk of “untoward events” for which someone must assume liability. She sees no value in the arguments of the clergy, and does not appreciate their values; all she sees is a very expensive lawsuit with incalculable financial consequences.

This lack of understanding extrapolates out to many in government, both in the US and elsewhere. They have no understanding of the value of the sacred within each person, within the world; there is only the cost of maintaining the population, which costs must be kept to a minimum, in order to ensure that their personal net worth can increase. Many of those in the US House of Representatives who voted last week to repeal the Affordable Care Act are devout church-goers who clearly have never bothered to listen to Jesus’ actual message. They know the price of everything and the value of nothing, and run their lives—and our world—accordingly.

As spirit workers, we focus on the sacred aspect of each person we work with, and imbue our work with that understanding in order to better serve our Gods and our clients. By honoring the sacred within ourselves, within our community, and in our world, we can manifest that energy in our daily lives. We may never convince the Gemmas of the world, those who willingly refuse to see, but we do what we can to create the difference we must make.

Daily Poem: Kindness ~ Naomi Shihab Nye

May 9, 2017 | Filed Under Poem for Hela | Comments Off on Daily Poem: Kindness ~ Naomi Shihab Nye

Kindness
~ Naomi Shihab Nye

Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
How you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop,
the passengers eating maize and chicken
will stare out the window forever.

Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness
you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho
lies dead by the side of the road.
You must see how this could be you,
how he too was someone
who journeyed through the night with plans
and the simple breath that kept him alive.

Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.
Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to gaze at bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
It is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you everywhere
like a shadow or a friend.

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