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Poetry is eliciting or explaining feelings in a concise and simple manner.
                                      Anita Barrows, co-author of  “Rilke’s Book of Hours”

School turned me off to poetry.  I didn’t understand all the rules teachers were trying to get me to follow, and I always seemed to interpret poetry differently than the teacher.  Mary Oliver opened my heart to poetry by introducing me to a style of poetry that was earthy, honest, concise, and mystical–her words sang to my soul.  Because of her I was able to begin exploring other poets and have found an amazing array of poets and poetry that touch my soul.

As I began a deep spiritual healing 25 years ago, her poems soothed me and deepened my understanding of my need to heal myself from old childhood messages.  Certain lines jumped out at me, lines that I sat with and reflected upon for long periods of time.  Below are lines from three different poems that became integral to my spiritual journey.

Determined to save the only life I could save             (The Journey)

I learn to let the soft animal of  my
body love what it loves                                                    (Wild Geese)

So I can fully live
my one wild and precious life.                                       ( The Summer Day)          

Weaving these three poems together offered me a mosaic of where I’d been and who I was becoming.  A product of the tight gender role expectations of the fifties, I realized how much I had abandoned my needs, wants, and self to please others.  These lines were a breath of fresh air as I began the long journey “home” to my authentic core.       

 I will always be grateful to Oliver for waking up my poetic soul.      

 

It is a beautiful sunny morning here in the Northwest, and Mt. Rainier is out in all her glory.  After a long rainy winter and spring, the sun is a true gift.  My mind begins to think about hiking and returning to my sacred playground, Mt. Rainier.  I am fortunate to live close enough to drive up for day hikes on her beautiful slopes.  Nature is my church, I know I am connected to all that is when in the beauty of nature.  To commemorate Earth Day and nature’s beauty I share a poem I wrote after a wonderful hike to one of her many alpine lakes. A portion of this poem is highlighted in my new memoir Listening to My Life in the chapter titled “The Healing Power of Nature.”  My book will be launched the first part of June.

The Mountain Calls

My heart is closing,
busyness takes over the day,
the week…..the month.
My body yearns for peace,
quiet…..renewal.

The mountain calls.

Leaving the busyness behind,
hiking boots in hand,
I return home
to the rich landscape of the mountain.

Entering the trailhead my breath deepens.
My body moves with each breath
freeing the tightly held constraints.
The rhythm of breath….step….silence takes hold.
Head chatter stops and
I become one with the trail.

Aware only of the wind
caressing my body,
the sun washing over me,
cleansing my soul.
Birds singing their melody,
touching my heart.

My eyes open.
I see the expansive world we live in.
Snow covered peaks,
multitudes of greens covering the land.
Wildflowers…..vivd magenta, bright blues, reds,
yellows, purples, dot the velvet green.

The sound of water cascades down a rock front,
rippling through a stream.
I stop…..I listen.
Is there anything more beautiful than the sound of water?
Flowing…..ever changing, pulsing with life.

The Mountain Calls.

My ears hear the squeak of the pica,
the high whistle of the marmot,
clear…..loud
announcing their presence to the world.

The hike continues,
a body rhythm develops with the earth.
I no longer walk on the earth,
I walk with the earth.
My heart and soul open with each step,
troubles, worries, doubts, fears…..wash away.

At trail’s end, a deep turquoise alpine lake shimmers in the sun,
nestled in trees. Wind gently creates ripples circling outward.
So easy to lose myself
in the beauty…..the serenity of this lake.

Silence the only sound.
Trees reflect on the surface,
the turquoise shifts colors,
shades of deep blue, pockets of blue green.

God, reflected in all that my eyes behold.
My heart and soul expand, absorbing the vastness,
becoming vast.
The sense of separateness is gone.
I return to my world renewed…..whole.

When the mountain calls,
I listen.

May we all cherish and protect Mother Earth everyday.

 

 

A friend sent me this poem today and I wanted to share it with you.  This is the spiritual journey for me–letting go of all those old stories that keep me from living in peace.  I love the image of the backpack.  Getting rid of those old emotions that hold us in a tight knot.  Filling our backpacks with compassion brings forth a sense of connection.  May it be so!!

What is a second wave feminist?  We are the women of the late sixties and early seventies who sat in consciousness raising groups sharing our stories of growing up female in the late fifties and early sixties. We are the women who fought for, lobbied for, and marched for the Equal Rights Amendment. I still have my ERA bracelet that I wore at all times.  We are the women who demanded equal pay for equal work.  My response to the #MeToo movement is YES, thank you, and it is about time. Almost fifty years later this may be the tipping point for women to be able to tell their truth and be heard.

I was an educator throughout much of my career.  In 1978 I was offered and took the position of Sex Equity Coordinator for a large school district.  My role was to develop and implement policies to insure the district was in compliance with Title IX.  My position was a federally funded Ciivil Rights Title IV grant. Title IX was written to insure girls had equal access to classes and sports. I relished taking this position as it combined my passion with my job description. This position allowed me to work with staff and administration in opening long closed doors for young girls and women.

One of the directives of Title IX was to write a sexual harassment policy for students. At this time in history there was no recognition that district staff also needed a sexual harassment policy to protect them. As women we understood sexual harassment, as we experienced it in our daily work life. We didn’t use the term sexual harassment, we just accepted it as part of being a woman in the workplace. Title IX gave us permission to address student sexual harassment.  We knew there were staff that made inappropriate comments, or inappropriately touched students. What a victory to be able to write a policy protecting students from harassment. Working with the teacher’s union, staff, and administration I wrote the first sexual harassment policy for students for our district.

With help from the teacher’s union we were able to get the policy out to all of the schools. We publicized the policy in the newsletters sent out to the parents. Complaints began to come into my office. I noticed there was one teacher/coach who was getting numerous complaints from both students and parents. I took the complaints to Personnel, now commonly called Human Resource.  They looked at the complaints and said “we’ll take care of this.” As complaints continued to come into my office, I was getting no information from the Personnel Department.  Finally I took the complaints to the Superintendent. He looked at the complaints, opened a file drawer in his desk, and pointed to a  large file saying “I have all this information on him, and I’ll take care of it.”

He did take care of it.  The teacher was transferred to another school. I was devastated.  My idealism came face-to-face with institutional sexism. What we called back then the “old boys system” and now call systemic sexism. It is this institutional sexism that continues to protect men. It goes so much deeper than just telling men to not say blah, blah, blah, or touch inappropriately.  It is who we believe.  It is who is running the organizations. It is our continued objectification of women. It is policies that continue to discriminate against women. It is all the good men being uncomfortable with this conversation and staying silent.

What I want to say to the courageous women in the #MeToo movement is “Don’t give up, change takes time.”  I am so hopeful that our country is at a tipping point in bringing about equal rights for all. The intersection between the #MeToo movement, Black Lives Matter, the immigration fight, and the March for our Lives movement points to a society that no longer abides discrimination. Yes, we have an administration and its followers that are fighting with all their might to keep the status quo and return to “a better time.” I believe they represent the death rattle of the old. These movements are vital to bringing equality to ALL our citizens.  Do not quit, do not give up, you are being supported by a vast number of Americans who are waking up to saying no more business as usual.

It is when I slow down that I show up and recognize that there is much more to life than “me.”  I wrote the following poem after showing up for these amazing beings at a pond near my home.

Heron and Turtle

She flies in on prehistoric wings.
Gracefully landing
on a small rock.

Gathering herself together
she majestically scans
the new terrain.

Her long slender neck bends
scooping water with
a beak of beauty and utility.

Heron standing tall
Turtle sunning.
No territory has been breached.
Just the sharing of a rock
the sharing of the sun.

Heron turns head toward Turtle,
stops…………..looks,
bending neck down,
beak almost touching
Turtle’s shell.

Turtle slowly moves one foot.
Heron continues observing,
Turtle alert.

Enough, Heron straightens neck,
bends down to scoop more water.
Turtle’s foot moves back in.

Life continues,
as each rests in the sun
sharing a rock.

Mary Oliver said in her poem The Messenger, “Stand still and be astonished.”  Nature never ceases to astonish me.