Creative Action: Days 21 - 30

Take not my silence for inaction.

I have, as a matter of fact, been diligently acting on my goal in a variety of forms.  I have also found myself quite busy and fatigued, thus the lack of report on my progress.

Last week I took a Thai massage intensive that was both invigorating in terms of all the exciting new things I learned and exhausting in terms of the sheer effort of getting there, being there and doing all the said learning.  I simply didn't have the energy or extra room in my head for the kind of reflective pontificating I'm known to sloppily smear all over this blog.

As for this week, I admit, I have less of an excuse.  I've had ample opportunities to get on the computer and update you, my fair (and few) readers, but I've also been grappling with an equally available and far more tempting urge to procrastinate.  As I'm sure you can surmise, Procrastination won.  In my defense, however, I must say that I've been actively recuperating from the intensity of the previous week and I acknowledge the monstrous challenge of "getting back into the swing of things" after such a profound change in my daily life.

All excuses aside, I am happy to announce that I did successfully do something creative on all but two days in the last ten.  Mostly, I've been practicing Old Apple Tree, but I've also penned a few poems, did some catching up in the Bardic Handbook and collected materials to make Brigid's Crosses.  Below are the poems.

The Flow

Where blood flows,

Life flows...

Water moves through it...

working away at her hardened ground.

These wrinkles are rivulets for tears, Sweet One.

Ocean water is my amniotic womb fluid...

so, sing with me, Baby, in the rush of these waves.

The salt makes a buoyant cradle

for our earthen forms.

Let's let Her hold us, Deary.

Let's swim like fish in the currents

all rolled and tumbled into the waves.

The waves that gently expelled us

from our cozy caves.

And we'll flow 

and we'll float

and we'll wade in our wu wei ways.

We never stop swimming, Darling...

in the Flow.

Where blood flows, 

Life flows...

Til we reach that silent pool

where the water is still

and all the saline

has dropped to the bottom.

There - there is no Flow, Sweet One.

There - the Shadow waits.

Dynamo

I once had a cat-friend

who was an owl-friend, too.

She was a knower and a seer,

a furry Bodhisattva,

with orbital jade for eyes

(to penetrate the skin of souls)

Soft and sharp,

her love was fierce

and her will, a massive expanse

beyond her size.

She accompanied me through darkness

and brought me to light

in countless moments in time.

Certainly, she would have eaten me,

had I died,

but that is loyalty in cat eyes.

She has moved on now,

to another world,

where she's all canines and angel wings.

But sometimes I feel her,

my dear friend, 

my owl-cat,

right by my side,

like a bit of her never left,

like she embedded into my soul

something of her stoic resolve

to soften every human heart

one lap at a time.