~ A Joy Warrior's Journey
There they lie, empty, fallen forms,
floating on light,
their days of summer suddenly gone
and all too soon.
And here we stand, railing at the cold,
at the emptiness their going leaves behind,
clinging to it as if by clinging
we could roll back time, and see them
dancing still.
Yet, even in our grieving, beneath its depths,
we hear their laughter and their songs,
blending with the Yes that dances
within us and beyond,
where time has no meaning
and love wears no form.
The world is in Humpty-Dumpty mode,
teetering precariously on the edge of the wall,
and today strong winds blow and fire shoots through the air
and explodes from the earth,
and dense clouds of surreality sail through the air.
Nevertheless, an island of peace rises from the calm lake
and the colors of autumn sing.
Looking back on this September,
in the year of 2024, you may think
of firestorms and hurricanes, of lives
destroyed or irrevocably changed.
And you may be tempted
to let sorrow overwhelm you.
Life is always tenuous and danger
often near. Our lessons in compassion
come with a great price. But
may you also remember, when
you think back on this time,
that its days held golden leaves
and sunflowers dancing to the song
of a gentle breeze, and that,
as she was leaving, September
left blue stars, shining from the grass,
love notes to remind you
that life goes on, and you, truly,
are precious and loved.
Somewhere in the world
bright flowers are blooming.
Somewhere, the sun is shining down.
Lovers are embracing somewhere;
children are dreaming in their mother’s arms.
Somewhere, great music is playing
and songs are being sung. Someone
is climbing a mountain, someone
is offering prayer. Somewhere
friends break bread and weave warm
memories. Somewhere, butterflies
float and colored birds take wing.
Somewhere stars are glittering
in a velvet sky. And everywhere,
always, the Great Yes unfolds
in waves of limitless love.
As if September wished to hold the sun
as its hours of light dwindle,
it fills our fields and roadsides
with living, glowing gold, a feast
of color for our eyes and of pollen
for the bees. Its sole mission
is to nourish, and so deep into the sunset,
its burnished gold continues to glow
and its song of Yes to rise.
“Certain colors are beautiful together; other colors aren’t.”
That’s what she said, standing before her freshman class
of art students. I remember finding that a curious thing
to say. “Take, for instance,” she continued, “pink and orange.
Each has its own fine qualities, but never, when combined,
can they be considered beautiful.” The students took notes.
I started drawing doodles, tuned her out, fell into dreams.
I thought of her today as I came upon the wildflowers.
I laughed. Tell it to the bees, I thought.
Clearly, I was not the only one who didn’t listen.
The woods completely dissolve
the idea that peace and stillness
are the same thing, that serenity
is motionless and silent. The trees
say peace is an endless singing
of possibilities brought into being,
then gone, a rise and fall of notes
echoing through the edgeless
vastness, transcending time.
And serenity is the embrace
of the song, the welcoming
of it, the joyous recognition
that it is the Yes dancing,
within and without,
without end.
You, too, are a climber,
reaching for the heights.
Climb on.
You, too, are meant
to open to the morning sun.
Open singing.
You, too, are a star
filled with inner light.
Shine on, friend. Shine on.
It’s early afternoon as I climb the slope.
This morning two doe ascended this very trail
and the woods, now silent, save for the barking
of a dog on the other side of the valley,
were filled with birdsong, I had a conversation
with the cardinal. We often chat. Birds nap,
or so I think, mid-day. I’ve long thought
them wise. I like to picture them cradled
in this green, a gentle breeze rocking them,
dreaming little birdie dreams. I place my steps
softly, lest I disturb them. I rest at the base
of the ancient tree I call Mother Maple.
She stands near the crown of the slope
her broad limbs raised in celebration
to the sky regardless of the season.
She has a fine view. I pat her trunk
with my open palm, her life force flowing
into me bright as the afternoon sun
and as warm, as glad. She is why
I climbed. Just to say an up-close hello
on this lush, warm day in late July.
It’s been nearly a decade now since a friend asked me to write “one of your letters” for her to give to her son as a graduation gift. I remember being honored by her request, and moved. I remember doing a lot of contemplation before I wrote it. Finally, the words came to me as if they were a gift of love. I thought they deserved to be shared.
This is what the letter to the young graduate said:
* * *
“You were born with potential. You were born with goodness and trust. You were born with ideals and dreams. You were born with greatness. You were born with wings. You are not meant for crawling, so don’t. You have wings. Learn to use them and fly.” ― Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi
Rumi’s right, of course. But it’s hardly the whole story. This learning-to-fly business is no easy thing. Nor is it quickly learned.
For one thing, you have to want it—that ability to soar above the crowd. You have to keep fighting against the pull of mediocrity. You have to want freedom more than you want to belong.
Those ideals and dreams you have in your heart? Define them. Write down what you want and why and keep your reasons close at hand. You will need reminders when the headwinds are strong, when storms come. And storms will come.
No one succeeds without chalking up a list of failures. Don’t be afraid to fail. Be afraid of not trying to win. “Wisdom,” an old saying goes, “comes from experience. And experience comes from making mistakes.” There’s no shame in that. Setbacks and failures are life’s gifts to you, sent as corrections to your course. Be daring. Take risks.
Keep a good helping of forgiveness in your pocket. Mostly you’ll need it for yourself. It will keep you from tearing yourself down needlessly and will help you maintain your humility while you continue your upward climb.
Learn not to blame circumstances or other people when things go wrong. The key to success is the acceptance of full and complete responsibility for every choice you make and for every action you take, for your own response to whatever is happening. When you inadvertently hurt others, be quick to apologize and make amends.
To the best of your ability, maintain your health. Eat wisely. Exercise. Get sufficient sleep. Learn to relax. Adopt some form of meditation.
Maintain flexibility of thought. Consider opinions that oppose your own. Be willing, if it serves truth, to discard every belief you’ve ever held. Demand truth, whatever the consequences. And to the very best of your ability, be honest with yourself and others; that’s what the practice of truth demands.
Nevertheless, be kind. Be gracious and tactful. Allow others the respect and compassion they deserve. These are the hallmarks of genuine maturity and of leadership.
Take time in your life for pleasure and play. To be alive is a profound privilege. And your gratitude is best expressed through your laughter and your joy, through your appreciation of life’s beauty and goodness and fun.
Above all, vow to learn to love, as broadly and fully as you can. For love is the wind which lifts us, and the power that enables us to soar.
You have wings, my friend. Learn to use them, and fly.
Congratulations on all your magnificent successes thus far! You have honored yourself and your loving family and made all of us better with all that you have achieved.
###
Wishing you a splendid summer.
Warmly (with a gentle breeze),
Susan