Tell it girl!

Tell all the Truth but tell it slant --
Success in Circuit lies
Too bright for our infirm Delight
The Turth's superb surprise
As Lightning to the Children eased with explanation kind
The Truth must dazzle gradually
Or every man be blind
--Ms. Emily Dickinson.

The mountains rejoicing

it's such a lovely day. I have this feeling of possibility today. There is kindness.
And last night i spent the evening with C. I didn't go to Monday Poet Society and this is a good thing. We've been in this messy space, there has been so much grumpiness, and he has wanted me to prioritize him. see i run around busy and make all these little windows, and i have these great great friends, and never in my life have i had so many grand friends.

So after last night, such a new kindness from him and relaxedness and happiness between us, However quietly. how fair and hanging. went to Aloha Island Grill and there were smiles on his face and hearing each other and a great plate of food.

I was just walking from Mobo sushi to my work, the day so sunny, even thinking this is like brimming with the Kingdom. I was snapping and making little fist motions--a business guy said to me "you've got a song!" all delighted with a smile/

Then I was walking across the street on cooper, had stepped onto the cross way, went back on the side I came from to actually change direction, then decided to forget about it and stepped into the Crosswalk when it wasn't my turn. But the lady in the jeep, waved me to go ahead anyway, then yelled out her window "It's your lucky day babe!"

Everything returning so kindly.

August 13th: The Newness in the Oldness

How great my August the 13th was, with Sumayya visiting--Joann and Sumayya stayed over after Poetry group. At Poetry, Rae was intently talking about this man's near-death experience, and the crazy light, and forgiveness, and more. we were all in great spirits, even singing. how much love and dearness and acceptance. how much You poured down on us and it was felt by all. I like how Sumayyya talked about it, hearing the Little girl inside. That little voice of "It's O.K."

Being felt. We shared our little freewrites, each delighted and hearing one another. like we were knit together.

Sumayya cuddled with Little Bear--the dog. We prayed around Joann, her last Monday Poet Society before going to Hungary, putting her in the middle touching her shoulder, her arms, knees. Speaking how she has pierced us, that we have her so fit in us, how that remains. We prayed for all the new lands and new walks. Praying for all the ways she will gather "meaning in the molecules" in Hungary--our dear seeker, Joann, dear hunter of all the Ridiculous ways that God breaks forth--finder of all the brimming places where God marries us to our Right spots -- in Kid A. in planting trees. in hoodies. in sevens and eights. in the orange-and-yellow cover art in Geogaddi, in Paper cranes, in the sound that stays behind the ear, in gestures, in Birth, in Mono, in the sorrow in the joy, in Anne Sexton, in 6 am drives to san francisco, in possibility, in frenzy, in the shoot, in being there for me in the way she is there she is willing in the way she prepares the places in the way she speaks right to it, my dear lucky one, my dear complete friend.

My truest friends and staying up late. hearing each other's wonder and discontent. Coming in Tibi's room, my roomate, the Venetian lady that she is, keeping under sheets with only her burgandy on, and all the reds draping everywhere. "Hello!" all of us greeting "Hey you!" Greeting this graduated girl.

Neatness blinking:

I found my black leather jacket yesterday left months in the closet at Megan's! i almost got one yesterday, not having a good jacket since I lost this one. And then I found it yesterday. This is my Monday miracle! It's long cuffs and wide buttons. Leather and lining. I have it on and I feel so cool and myself. Got this biker-in-the-Lord spirit beside me of "Let's do it." Got this return. (Kinda like my metaphor about gold "Your hand back in shy pockets").

Having long evenings and convicted mornings and Pete's coffee, having loneliness and fullness together in this terrific day. Feeling alone and feeling found. Wondering what He's got in his pockets.

Lachma

At a used bookstore i came across this book called "Prayers of the Cosmos--Meditations on the Aramaic Words of Jesus." I bought it finding Rema in the page I opened to, later seeing it to be a little on a strange track. but it takes the Aramaic words of Jesus and breaks them open.
Lachma is both bread and understanding.
I have felt starved and keep thinking about bread. how i want bread in my relationship with the Cliff.
There are little words we share about our Spirituality. I have felt so hungry. I keep seeing bread and thinking bread. It is not about concepts that i yearn for, but to actually eat and feast in bread. and words are like bread to me especially words about god. they actually feed me and i know this is true b/c many sleepy grouchy late nights when i was ready to crash, i have caught this great wava

Bread means understanding

Longing (Remember)

my mom came down this past weekend and blessed me. so loving and generous. we sat in my room and painted the worn away spots on my orange rocking chair.

We watched the Leonard Cohen moving, recalling how his voice grew me, my mom playing it in my early teens. how i started to listen over and over and his melancholy grew on me. how his worlds became ambulatory around me through college. how he unlocked rooms. listening with my mom to Leonard's interspersed songs throughout the moving, came musty rooms unlocked. Listening to my own landscape that was shaped somewhere between the lands of leonard.
tonight i am so placed by "Suzanne" between drawers and drawers of sorrow. i do not know what to do. but leonard sings me back to me and to places i've been, to my attic on Storey street, to Oregon, to home with my Mom. to days of unknown before burden and unclear hinges.

I feel this grand coming forth and holding as "Suzanne" comes tumbling out and up. this rocking sweet simple country opening, the key shifting in the beginning. the background singers "ooooohhhing"

Suzanne takes you down to her place near the river You can hear the boats go by You can spend the night beside her And you know that she's half crazy But that's why you want to be there ....
And Jesus was a sailor When he walked upon the water And he spent a long time watching From his lonely wooden tower And when he knew for certain Only drowning men could see him He said "All men will be sailors then Until the sea shall free them" But he himself was broken Long before the sky would open Forsaken, almost human He sank beneath your wisdom like a stone.


Last poetry group i almost cried when i read this wendell berry poem. the line "Pray for the Little Songs that wake and move." kept making me choke. a longing, and a knowing. that many of my little songs were being held back, or that so many so so many more could be bourne. that my soul is waiting to run and walk and discover, and i keep getting quiet or having no material to make with. all these little places waiting.



Lord tonight I pray for the Little Songs that wake and move.

A Banner

7.31.07
(From the first night I moved into Carmen's Room)

Backdrop:

For months at a time I will go through themes. There are words that will prop-up and gather meaning for me, words like tents that hold all these meaning and cadence inside, like tents or rooms echoing the challenge at hand for me, words that spill the essence in the room of my dialogue with God.
And it is so dear to me how God engages my words. How he says,
"Ok, you've propped me up like this? I'll move in what you're saying and dreaming about....or OK, this is your native tongue? I'll speak right back to you with your words. Just to be obvious. Just because I love you. And mostly, I want you to get this. I want you to hear me and I want you to know that I am this rad."

I moved into Carmen's room reluctant. testing the "vibe" as I do. And God blessed my first night. I am in a "tent" period. Where I keep asking for the Lord to set up his tent in my land, even if it is a demented land. But if the Lord sets could just set a tent. And I keep wanting to be in the Lord's tent.

God spoke to me that this new room is for me to make a tent! A place of rightness and where everything fits, like 07. This is the year of Sabbath and everything finding its right place and of rest. of looking back and calling what has been made or done or rendered good.
something is starting to wake-up in my land in my new room.
what a world that has started to sprout right here in this room

wrote (from) 7-31-07

your tent!

What a new thing is waking

Forget the former things.
Do not dwell in the past.
See, I am doing a new thing!
Now it springs up:
do you not perceive it?

Everything fit.
Everywhere I am in your tent!
You have buried so many gems in me my head running over and over
when you planted them and the way you tied it all together.

Reluctant to take Carmen's room over, but then I started putting books inside, handfuls at a time (with no boxes to aid) picking the very best, my fondest books and little things off the shlef. Praying and asking "Is this the way? to really go to that dark room near the yapping dogs, shall I leave this room finally warmed-up?"

Then I found it. I found on the shelf, my "Myster" checkered notebook. My journal Joann gave me. My dearest fondest journal I have ever had. the one that has been missing since I met Cliff. I wrote the last entry the dawn of the day I met him, that very day. And I've kept wondering what it said, as it was writing my heart crying out for my man. speaking to the deepest of my needs and teh stakes. It was written to my Grmampa.

So I'm pulling out my favorite books from my shelf, and there it was, my beloved journal.

You were already bidding me yesterday:
The night before I read Joann my dearest poems, poemts that followed me around for years. I read "These Colors are Scheming" poem. It ended with Gold and Joann wanted me to read that part over.
"Gold is what is left behind. Gold is what remains in the gap on the bookshelf when the book is found. And Gold is in a return."

And tonight I found Gold. And there is the gap on the bookshelf where my book (my journal, my me) is found.

Right away I started writing in it, scribing parts of Isaiah down, I was looking for scripture I had found before.
But instead was this wholly other landscape of scripture. It was like I was reading another book.
the Lord was speaking to me these new things.
Before me flooding affimation after affirmation. repeating to me

I will answer you.
I will help you.
I will strengthen you.
I will hold you with my righteous right hand.
Do not be afraid.
I will life you. I will lift you.
I will lift up a banner.