~ A Joy Warrior's Journey
Beneath it all, beneath her exuberance
and delicious abandon, beneath
her inexhaustible range of hues,
her burgeoning greens, her endless
moods and forms, what I love most
about May is the tender sweetness
of her endless, bountiful gifts.
Regardless of the world’s confusion,
its violence and evil and pain,
on this clear May morning lilacs blossom
and swallowtails, newly emerged
from their dark cocoons, flit in dizzy joy
to sip the nectar.
Here is your reassurance, dear child.
Here is proof of life’s renewal.
Here is proof of grace.
It was yesterday, late in the afternoon.
All day, every fifteen-twenty minutes,
the mother had flown in to feed them.
They chirped loud chirps: Me first!
No! Me! Me next! Don’t forget me!
And then they napped, transforming
their meals into feather and muscle.
Just the day before, I caught one of them
standing on a twig at the nest’s edge,
between naps, bold and fearless as could be.
Today, I didn’t get a chance to see them
until afternoon. With camera in hand
I walked softly through light rain.
They were silent. Must be napping.
But no! They were gone!
I just stood there in the rain, staring,
waiting for my eyes to convince me
of what was plainly the fact. The nest
was empty. They were gone.
So, the chapter closes; the stories go on.
I’ll remember the one about baby robins.
Oh, fragrant little beauty,
so precious and dear,
your tiny bells whisper
of our grandmothers’ gardens
and of May bouquets in miniature vases
filling our rooms with your sweet perfume.
Sweetheart of the Mother herself,
you are all that is pure and pleasing,
all that is tenderness and joy.
Every spring may you ring your sweet bells
until there are springs no more.
It doesn’t matter that you grow in a tangle of weeds
or that you’re hidden in some corner where few ever pass.
You’re still exactly where you were destined to be,
where you were meant to unfurl your colors,
where you were needed to sing your song.
The sunbeams will still find you, the stars
will light your nights. Soft rains will come
to quench your thirst and refresh you.
And when you least expect them, friends
will appear who see your strength and beauty.
Through your petals and leaves and stems, life
extends its blessings to the world.
So blossom and dance, little child of the Yes,
and hear the wind whisper how you matter
and are precisely where you are needed to be.
Every day comes with its own gifts, of course.
But some, I’ve found, come wrapped in disguise,
making you hunt for the prize. Sometimes
you can go for months, even years,
before you discover what the gift was.
But some days unfold with unblemished perfection
that sings through the hours from dawn into night,
every one of them spilling over with beauty.
And when they close, they float into your heart,
just to remind you that perfection is possible,
and that you lived in its midst one day in spring.
In celebration of their 10th day of life.
Oh, Great Yes, whose promptings
led these little ones to chirp this morning
from their safe, if crowded, nest,
singing their notes into the huge, unknown world,
please protect them. Keep them safe
from prowling beasts and teach them
how to shelter from the rains. Help them,
with their just-opened eyes, to see
that the world is a welcoming place,
and strengthen them with each passing hour
until they can spread their wings and fly.
Comfort their parents, who even now,
are sending anxious cries from nearby branches,
and help them bring juicy worms until
the babies learn to find them on their own.
One more thing. Accept my thanks
for letting me watch this miracle unfold
and for placing these almost-smiling fledglings
at my door. In the name of Love, which flows
unendingly from Your heart, Thank You!
And Amen.
[First, some notes from my Joy Warrior’s Journal, as background.
What To Do In The Middle Of A Treacherous War That Surprisingly Few Realize Is Even Going On: An Inner Conversation
Voice: Is it at your doorstep?
Me: It’s deeper in my pocketbook at every turn. So I’d say its inching its way up with what seems to be quickly increasing speed.
Voice: Are you in imminent danger?
Me: Only if I don’t pay attention to my driving. And here’s my corner. Oh! Look! It’s Gorgeous!
Voice: Well, of course.]
I pulled in to the curb right across from the school. Its campus borders one edge of the park, an oasis of joy tucked between the “projects” and the small private college up the street. I end up here in the middle of May every year . (You can read the story about that here. Pics there, too.) It’s an aged, clean, working class neighborhood that tells a lot of history as you drive down its streets. I like the area’s giant sycamores and maples, and the way the yards are neat and host flowering trees and beds of blooms, now that it’s finally spring.
Despite my excitement over finding myself at this delightful park once again, I was in a slightly sober mood. I spend my mornings, as I’ve mentioned, watching news you usually don’t get from the main stream media. And I can only conclude that we’re heading into some extraordinary times. Events truly seem to be heading quickly toward a decisive moment. But my resolution as a somewhat errant joy warrior is to be present with the moment’s goodness, and beauty, and truth. So I am here, at the park, and as I exit my car, I look at the scene before me and, breathing it in, find a little smile edging onto my face.
Then I see it. The whole sidewalk is covered with chalk drawings. I approach them a bit warily, hoping they won’t mar the beauty of the scene. But no! Look! They’re love notes! See the pink and blue heart?
I walk down the edge of the sidewalk taking photos of them, feeling as if I’ve stepped into an enchanted little world of some sort. A grinning blue face looks up at me, wearing the word “Happiness” in big letters beneath his chin. And look at this fish! See? Above the surface of the water, storm clouds drop rain. But straight ahead the sun shines through the water, and the little fish has his eye set on that. Must be a joy fish. See what he says? “Look to the bright side.”
I glance up at the colors the park’s trees are wearing, and they call me. But I am stopped in my tracks by the sidewalk’s next square. It’s a quote from a sonnet by Shakespeare, no less! “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou are more lovely and more temperate.” It could have been written to this very day itself. And then comes a simple blue smile, and its message, “You matter.”
I am astonished by the whole experience, and truly moved. As I leave the sidewalk to take in the park, I tuck one of the sidewalk’s messages into my heart-pocket, a reminder: “Don’t worry. Be happy.” That’s always good advice.
Go into this week knowing that you are loved.
Warmly,
Susan
Every May I wait for it to call me.
“It’s time. Come now,” it beckons.
It has to call; I don’t normally pass it
in my daily travels. But one day every May
something inside me hears it: “Come now.”
When I get there, it is laughing colors
and it tosses pink and white dogwood petals
in welcome, and robins stroll on the lawn.
Over there, by the sidewalk, is a tree
whose pink flowers look like carnations,
and doesn’t it make you fall silent to gaze
at the red of these Japanese maple leaves?
I float from one corner to another as if
I were one of these tender blossoms
waltzing with the wind. I cannot tell you
how or why it happens. The only answer
I know is love.
Teach us your sweet simplicity.
Let your song be clear and strong.
This is the moment for which
you were born after all, the now
in which you unfold your grace
and make your mark on the eternity
of our hearts, so that we, too
may sing the joyous Yes with you
until the last star fades
from the deep and infinite sky.