SOMETIMES

This poem is lovingly dedicated to my dog-niece, Zoey, who was everything wonderful about snow ... and life. She loved everyone lavishly and had a soulful exuberance to life that is missed by all of us. There was and there will always be one Zoey Girl. Her passing took our breath away, just like snow sometimes does as it falls.


Sometimes

When
     I write poetry
 I forget it is one digit writing
          From my good hand.

     I don't hear radios or tvs
            Or the groaning in the house.

I sometimes remember snow
                  As it drifts outside
           My window.
    Little white flurries flicker
 Across the periphery
                Of my eye
                      While Chance sniffs
                                       My hoodie.

                       Washing machine chugs along.

     And yet there is a stillness,
 A certain silence in the house,
             Zoey, in reflection, at the top of the stairs,
       One eye ready to open if a sound comes near.
                      Others off to work and school
                                 Tire prints fresh in snow.

I sometimes remember snow
         And lying face down in it.

                 S u d d e n l y
                       Then my world changed
                 Red bleeding into white
                             A dramatic interlude.

Sometimes I remember that.

             Mainly, I feel the snow
        Outside the window
                      The snow that recently left,
                                                             Melted.

 Or fresh puffs, white powder promise
          For thirsty lakes, parched from dry spells.

Sometimes I remember snow, snow balls and snow people,
     Scooping up fresh snowy heaps
                                  Glistening in sun
          Snow flurry pilings
                            That our dog did not find.

    Placed gently in a bowl, adding Hersey's
                 Chocolate, eating snow blizzards,
             Laughing with others
   Teeth chattering, cold and wet under
                           Coats and gloves.

I remember snow...

              First ski attempts, floundering,
       Collapsing in a snowy white mass,
                       Giggling, soaked and soggy
                  Falling again and again
                                   Slipping and sliding
             Sometimes on the
                            Hand held ski tow
                                            That pulls you way up
                               As you Lean Way Back
                                            It's nothing like riding a horse!

     Reaching the summit
         In my case sometimes,
                     Less than my friends,
               Pros at laughter
                         And scant snowy tumbles.

           Red fire logs burning,
                        In Ski Lodge Paradise.
                                   Hot chocolate never
                                                    Tasted so good.

                            Yet never missing it when I left.

            Though Snow makes for pretty pictures,
      Snow Angels,
               Laughter with nieces,
      Funny snow people with carrot noses,
         Joy with
               Puppies and dogs
                       As they run astonished,
      In Snowy cold satisfaction,
Up hilly mounds and down,
            Legs nearly buried as they plow through.
 
   Zoey standing outside in cooling snow
                         Flurries, licking snow patches
                                        Now and again
                                                With her tongue.

                           Standing vigil as her mother drives away.

    Snow takes your breath
                    Away
                          Like now
                               When She falls,
                  Flitters, swirls,
                               And flirts
                   Carpeting Mother Earth.

     Sun, Occasional Blue Sky,
             And Puff Cotton Clouds Sigh
                        In Reverent Mountain Chants.

           Snow twitters, mummers and purrs
                                          Still falling gently.

     Sunshine bursts through happy
                                With one hand clapping.

      Pine needles glisten,
               Mirroring Sunlight.
                            Bright Happiness giggles.

    Mountain stands steady,
                        Enjoying Creation
                As the Sun Kissed Snowy
                               Carpet dozes all around.

WATCHING SNOW MELT

Watching Snow Melt

   I lie here in bed

           Cast heavy on

   Arm and wrist

           Resting on the pillow

                     That covers my heart

I lie here in bed over

          These long slow days

                Watching snow melt

Snow melts in whimpers

  On foggy chill days

           Like yesterday

Today the sun has peeked

In and out
 Caressing the pines

                   Snow slightly murmurs

                            Warm wafting through

Mountain changes daily

Much like my hurt tired limbs

Snow daily is less full of

     Puffed arched pilings

Now she is

                     Scantly cladding gray rocks

     Brown needle risings

     With dusty

                  salt sprinkles confused

Looking back at me

Pines Trees

      Still thirsty from their

          Parched hopeful days

       There were no snow dripping pines

         Or rivelets trickling down the mounds

Mysterious this

                Watching snow melt

As it goes away from

             Itself cold and glistening

Into white cloud trailings

                Lingering tentatively on
                     The ground

CHRISTMAS IS A SPIRIT THAT LIVES IN MY HEART

The Christmas spirit — love — changes hearts and lives.

                                                                 Pat Boone

Christmas is a Spirit that lives in my heart. This past weekend I ate pie, shared stories, and wrote holiday cards with a dear friend.

We’ve shared this tradition of writing holiday cards over the years. But we also shared it often as three people. Robert was with us then. A year ago Robert passed on to that other shore.

Marie and Robert were married for fifty years. It would have been too abrupt to write holiday cards without first hearing Marie’s Robert poems, Marie’s and Robert’s Warp and Woof poems or Marie’s sojourn into new life.

Marie’s poems emerge from the bone and marrow of her soul. My heart gasps with Robert being invoked again as a living, breathing presence. He is gone...and not gone...as Marie invites in a new relatedness with her world.

Photo By Karla Boyd

At a particular rock and tree formation, Marie shared a special ‘Robert moment’. That was on our first walk. On other walks, we wended around trails and marveled at Sutro baths and Golden Gate Park gardens. On our last day, we delighted in seeing double crested Cormorants, a Brown Pelican; we shared secrets and sighed at the burnt orange sunset as the golden sun dropped into the ocean.

Photo By Karla Boyd

This past weekend, our conversations teetered at the edge of vulnerable intersections, and stumbled into unchartered waters and engaged Process as if a She. It's as if a Presence, a Soft Feminine Presence that lives within us all, called us out from mundane familiarity into embryonic encounters that engage a deeper flow with life. We opened more in its unfamiliarity. We are, to borrow Marie’s words, finding our place

in the flow, the every moving piecing together, coming together,

of things in their own way, in their own time, reassuring,

sustaining and satisfying.

Holiday cards finished, we sit at Marie’s dining room table as the last wisps of sunset become dusk. With the lights not turned on, we encounter a quieting intimacy.

         Photo By Karla Boyd

“Today, I realize how much of your careful arrangement of everything reminds me of my grandmother.” Christmas Spirit has engaged Marie and I all weekend. Christmas Spirit: A LOVING Presence unfolding warming encounters in soft, sparkling radiance.

“I felt Christmas Spirit when I was with my grandparents,” I say near the end of Marie’s and my time together. When I was five, seven and ten, alone or with a friend, spending a week with my grandparents in the summer, Christmas was there.

When alone, I’d sit at the breakfast table with my grandparents. After eating, Goldie would ask, “What do you want to do today?” Christmas Spirit lived in the ordinary way we designed a trip to the local swimming pool; or travels anywhere with my grandfather when my grandmother needed some solitude. It lived in my walking alone to the corner store to buy dinner preparations.

That common conversation of three souls unfolding our day never let us down.

My grandmother’s hearing was impaired when she was three years old. On occasion, my grandparents sat on their front porch rocking. “Karl, what’s that sound,” she’d ask. “Oh, don’t get excited, it’s just the kids climbing out the bedroom window onto the roof, listening to our conversation.” We’d scramble back into the room. I can still hear my grandfather’s laughter.

My grandmother and I would sit in a swing on the side porch, my bare feet bouncing off the wall of the church next door. My grandmother never meddled but was interested in everything I said. We spoke of simple things in the most extraordinary way.

Close to dinner, my grandfather conspiratorially called me into the pantry room. He’d reach into the cupboard and pull out sugary orange slice wedges. “Don’t tell your grandmother, now.”

Christmas is a Spirit that lives in my heart. It’s evoked every time a moment is freed into life’s deep rhythm. It’s an everyday, ordinary time made sacred.

What about you, dear Reader, have you discovered Christmas Spirit living in your heart?

GETTING TO YES AND STAYING THERE!

How many of you have gone down a road so long that you think it’s your contribution?

As early as five years old, people asked if I could help with their problems. It wasn’t just children; it was adults, too. Later, I found careers that put this skill to use. One of my bosses once asked me if my being successful in resolving problems was because I wanted her job. Huh?

Yes, but, if you keep on doing the same thing, what do you get? In my case: More problems!

Luckily, what also came naturally was seeing the good in everyone. I see positive futures and how to get there. Mid-careers, I found my true calling as a leadership consultant.

Being asked to help others solve problems did not disappear overnight, and it kept negative world views operational. Leadership development sees what’s working in people and organizations. Helping others to solve problems keeps you seeing what’s wrong.

It took integrity, transformation, and the support of mentors and friends for me to quit this habit. I was like a worn out dog who had given birth to too many litters.

Appreciative Inquiry, a leadership model, has this saying: “What you appreciate, appreciates.” If you’re constantly available to help others solve problems, you’re calling in more problems. If you want peace, then appreciate the peace in the world. You need to "see" what you want and that allows you to build that on that foundation and move into that pathway.

If want more wild horses, elephants and chimpanzees roaming free, appreciate the ones that are. If you want people happy and well, see them happy and well. “What you appreciate, appreciates.”

I’m no longer available for problems. I work with colleagues and clients who say “yes” to living and building on their strengths. It’s a myth that negative images inspire people to fix stuff; it brings people down. Seeing what works inspires action.

Today, someone on Facebook posted a video of Ellen talking with Gladys from Austin, Texas. I laughed and laughed! http://youtu.be/-jeCL9f2NNI. We’re all Gladys; we want it both ways. We want the good stuff while we dabble in the dark and negative. And we lose out on free trips to the Ellen show. 

In my life and work, I’ve joined a myriad of Facebook positive voices that post positive media communications. We’re creating a vortex of good energy to dip into.

There are many doing this; https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=486122528080113 and https://www.facebook.com/iamlivingpositive/info are two. Namaste Global Vision also shares inspiration: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Namaste-Global-Vision/212980952072457

This past weekend, I heard some difficult and sad news. When I shared it with a mentor, she encouraged me to offer my joy in the next days and months. Intelligent lady. She knew I couldn’t dwell on this sadness and be able to shift into my joy.

Monday, I posted this on Facebook:

JOIN ME IN WRITING THIS FUN-LOVING "BLOG" ABOUT JOY AND HAPPINESS.

Two Words. I’ll start.

The next person adds two words.

It posted for three days with twelve contributors:

Me:   I Delight

Tamara:  In Animal’s

Wendy: Loving Expressions

Words: Begin Within

 Debbie: Sharing Gratitude

 Me: For Unseen

Castagne: Bubbles of Joy

Kim:  I Can't Imagine

 Sharon: Universal Peace

 Me: And Yet

Sabia: Love Reigns

  Ambika: Inviting You

Kim: To Feel

Sandy:  The Warmth

Kim: And Power

Merrilee: Of Kindness

Me: That Gives

Kim: Us EVERYTHING!!!! 

Reader, what are your two words? What shift did you make to a positive path?

CONFESSIONS OF A VEGETARIAN: Seeking Freedom

Vividly, I recall standing in the windowed kitchen where we sat our groceries and drank tea. We took our meals, often in the living room, with community vegetarian potlucks swapping liberation tales, playing music and connecting.

I was not in the kitchen for tea this day, however. I was about to do an insensible act. As I stood before the stove, I reflected on the last few days. Meeting one of the five housemates, grandmother Meridel Le Sueur, was memorable. She was a poet, kind and born into a family of political and social activists. I knew three of her grandchildren. http://www.meridellesueur.org/ Meridel encouraged my piano playing, writing and cheerfulness. I loved her poetry, her interest in youth, and her generous ability to connect.

I remembered the day Jane Fonda sauntered through our kitchen en route to my roommate’s office to discuss new developments. I remembered how interested, curious and helpful my housemates were. I wondered if I’d discover why I was living in San Francisco (what I came to learn). I wondered if I remembered to put away the co-op food picked up late today.

I’m getting ahead of myself.  Desiring to be a writer, and new to the Bay Area, I chanced upon a meeting with Pat Parker, poet and writer. We became friends. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pat_Parker Together we found ways to share history, poetry and dreams.

Although independent, I denied my truth when seeking my “herd”. Pat wanted to sit on the dock of the bay and go crabbing.  I obliged her. My best days were when our nets were empty, but not our souls, as we talked and communed. My vegetarian conflict was relentless. How to say “no”, but not make waves? It’s amazing what we do to fit in.

Today my bucket was not empty. And Pat was about to travel. So I took my crab to share with one roommate before the others got home. My attention was on preparation, reflection and making sure I didn’t get pinched. Where were my heart, intelligence and learning? They abandoned me; or I submerged them in favor of pleasing “another”. Painful memories have a way of resurfacing; repeating our mistakes is their calling card. http://consultingforpassion.blogspot.com/2014/07/confessions-of-vegetarian-day-i-heard.html

Deftly and unconsciously I lifted out the crab. As she entered the pot, I was taught a lesson. The crab did not cry out. But her angry eyes glared into mine.

Later, shocked and stunned, I realized she was pregnant. Her angry face never left me. Do animals, birds, and sea creatures feel? What a stupid question. This was my defining moment. Whatever battle I still had to wage, I committed then and there to become a vegetarian.

Sometimes we need to walk through the hot fires of our conditioning and come out the other side, transformed. We need to be patient and loving, for the journey is deep and long to growth and healing.

What is your journey, dear reader, in releasing negative conditioning and embracing conscious living?