Today, Ash Wednesday, feels like a day for an open field, a sunrise, a few clouds. My body is tired. As they say around here, I Did Mardi Gras. Every day– Saturday to Fat Tuesday. I welcome the rest, the coming down from a party hearty high to a calm cloudy Lent. I invite you to peacefulness, to look to the fallow fields for solace and grace.
Sunrise Field by Margaret Simon (You may use this photo.)
I am still staring out toward the field, fallow and fertile whispering to the wind secrets of stillness and peace believing that time can heal wounds believing strong faith starts with good soil.
Spiritual Journey First Thursday is being gathered today by Carol Varsalona at Beyond Literacy Link.
Carol is gathering Spiritual Journey posts today around the topic Blossoms of Joy. When I first typed it, I wrote “Blossoming Joy,” which slightly changes the blossoms into action. I have come to believe that we are all in the process of blossoming. We never arrive because life is hard and good and disappointing and joyful all wrapped up on any given day.
I’ve been listening to Untamed by Glennon Doyle. It’s a book full of quotable quotes. This is one that spoke to me.
“I am here to keep becoming truer, more beautiful versions of myself again and again forever. To be alive is to be in a perpetual state of revolution. Whether I like it or not, pain is the fuel of revolution. Everything I need to become the woman I’m meant to be next is inside my feelings of now. Life is alchemy, and emotions are the fire that turns me to gold. I will continue to become only if I resist extinguishing myself a million times a day. If I can sit in the fire of my own feelings, I will keep becoming.”
My spiritual journey is the alchemy that keeps me blossoming. I’m in a constant revolution with my inner and outer selves. Outside I want to show I’ve got everything under control. No rocky roads here. Smooth sailing. I know what I am doing, and I am doing it.
Practically every day, someone in the halls will comment about my appearance. Whether it’s the cute Dr. Seuss “Teacher, I am!” mask or the shoes I’m wearing, someone will say something. I know. I know. This is how women interact. I find myself doing it every day.
In fact, one day a little kindergarten girl was rushing in the hallway. She said, “I have to go to the bathroom,” and rushed by me. Then I heard from her little sweet voice, “But I love your hair!”
Perhaps she genuinely had noticed and liked my hair. But it struck me that even our young girls are trained to greet another girl with a compliment about her looks.
I’m not saying this practice is one I would change so much as notice. Our society trains girls at a very young age that how you look matters. Is this healthy?
Lucille Clifton is one of my favorite poets. Years ago I had the privilege of hearing her read at the Dodge Poetry Festival. Her poem “roots” was the poem of the month for A Network of Grateful Living. I loved the voice and cadence so much that I wrote beside her. Literally placed the poem on a document and wrote my own beside her. Glennon’s words and my own inner thoughts led me to this poem.
Today, Spiritual Journey First Thursday is celebrating connections at Ramona’s site, Pleasures from the Page.
Tuesday was a tough day. I sang in the choir for a good friend’s funeral, gone way too soon after a brave battle with breast cancer. As I was talking to her best friend, the friend who had been by her side and the friend who kept me updated, I mentioned that I had sung in a community choir with the soloist. Juliet said, “My mother sang in that choir. Her name was JoEllen.”
I lost it. Tears flowed. I held onto Juliet. I had known her mother.
Connections are multi-faceted. You may connect to someone once or over a period of time. JoEllen and I sat next to each other in the community choir every fall for a few years. Once we went to a musical concert together, but we rarely got together outside of choir rehearsals. One December, she stopped coming to rehearsal. Someone said she lost her voice. It wasn’t until later that I found out that JoEllen was sick with cancer. I never saw her again.
And here was Juliet, someone I had connected with over a mutual friend’s illness. After we took a long hug, I told her, “I don’t want to lose touch.” We both loved our friend Amy. We both loved her mother JoEllen. Now we needed each other. Connections are essential, magical, and meaningful. May we all find meaningful, loving, and God-filled connections. Peace!
See more Spiritual Thursday posts with Dani at Doing the Work that Matters.
Today is the first Thursday in April and a group of bloggers are gathering at Dani’s place to write about “renewal.” I am working on mindfulness daily. Focusing my thoughts on light and love keeps worry at bay. But sometimes the clouds cover the sun, and it’s hard to see the light.
Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me. Psalm 51
Renew a right spirit in me, Oh God.
Help me walk in the path of light and truth.
Keep me from wandering far from you.
I am weak, but my heart is eager.
I open my soul to you
like a flower seeks the light, reaching.
Your grace is mine, I know.
Guide me to the light.
Iris in a neighbor’s garden. Photo by Margaret Simon
The following is a poem from a Facebook poet friend, Wendi Romero. She is posting daily poems during Lent. This one spoke to me.
I love how Wendi uses the word “lean.” Even if I am imperfect and often can’t see the light, I can lean in. And the more I lean, the more I awaken to my higher self.
See more Spiritual Thursday posts at Donna’s site, Mainly Write.
Donna is gathering our Spiritual Journey First Thursday posts at her blog. Donna recently moved, so she chose “Home” as our topic for today.
We often look to our church as a spiritual home. But is this the only place where God lives? Like the saying “Home is where the heart is,” God is where the heart is, too. Just because you may not have a place to worship, God’s presence does not leave you. God is in my mind…always.
I also believe that God is in my poetry. Wherever I am, the world opens and reveals poems. This week is only the first week of February, but the temperatures have climbed above 70 degrees, and the Japanese magnolias are blooming. On my early morning walk, I pass a lonely tree in a vacant lot. It’s obviously not trimmed or cared for and in many ways looks like it’s dead, but not this week. So I wrote a poem about it. Of course.
The first stanza is a direct quote from The Time is Now, a weekly writing prompt from Poets and Writers.
ADayonSaturn
A day on Saturn lasts a total of ten hours, thirty-three minutes, and thirty-eight seconds, according to the Astrophysical Journal.
When I pass the Japanese magnolia, I think it must be dying. Lichen clusters on its branches; a hollowed trunk carved like a cave invites infesting insects.
And yet, there they are in the middle of winter, pink blossom buds point to the sky spot Saturn
like an astrolabe aligns the planets, from a leafless display
My dog lies heavy as the storm moves through.
Worry keeps him close.
Rain streaks the window with tears.
We are safe inside.
Infinite line of tangled roots and vines,
God’s garden grows wild.
Endless labyrinth of life to life.
We are safe inside.
–Margaret Simon (c) 2018
Commentary: In this poem, I began with what was happening in the moment. A storm was pounding, and my dog was afraid. I held him on my lap. As he relaxed, much like an infant, he became heavier on my lap. I then moved to the drawing for interpretation. I saw the white lines as the lines of connection of humanity. When I looked for a synonym for connection, I found labyrinth which alliterated with life to life.
From PoemCrazy #25: “there may be a measurable field of energy for the buzz of life around moments and things. Poems are alive this way. When a poem comes to me I have to tend to it like a small fish, a possum, a snake or a puppy, depending on the poem. It’s often kicking and unruly.”
Join the Two Writing Teachers blog for the Slice of Life Challenge.
National Poetry Month 2017
For the month of April, I have committed to writing a poem each day. I am not following any stricter rule than that one. Others in the poetry blogging community are doing themed poems. You can see everything that’s going on at Jama’s Alphabet Soup.
On Monday, my young student Jacob wrote an acrostic poem on the word faith. He was surprised by his own wisdom. I told him that I think there is a whirl of ideas in the universe and he was open for it.
Finding An Invitation to Hope
Thinking about Jacob’s inspiring poem and the ideas from the universe, I felt a pull to write a found poem from Bishop Jake’s blog post from Sunday. Jake Owensby is the Bishop of the Western Louisiana Episcopal Diocese. He writes beautifully at Looking for God in Messy Places about how to live a life of love and hope. His post this week “Dry Bones and Living Flesh” inspired this poem.
Dry Bones
uprooted
nothing familiar
fleeing home
to stay alive
they leave behind
bones
Ezekiel had a vision
of those very dry bones.
The victors leave
the dead in an open grave,
a goldmine
of artifacts.
This was personal.
The baker’s daughter
he knew by her fragrance of yeast,
the grandmother rocking her grandchild,
the old stooped mason.
War is always the same.
Death, senseless, helpless
“collateral damage” No, this was personal-
husbands, wives, siblings, grandchildren.
Homes left in ruins,
People without community,
Dry bones
watered with survivor’s tears.
God takes these bones
clothes them
gives them breath.
God promises
through us
to be a new home
for the exiled.
Hear the call.
Join the Spiritual Thursday round up at Reading, Teaching, Learning.
For Spiritual Thursday, we are reflecting on the word “Merciful” today, Bobbie Ann Taylor’s One Little Word.
A Merciful Cinquain
Failure
clouds my vision
like fog in the morning
drapes the coming sunshine in
mercy
Every morning I drive to my school in the country while the sun rises. I am often in awe of the way the light plays in the sky. This image of fog covering the sun made me think about my feelings of failure. These are natural, I suppose, as a teacher who cares deeply for her work with children and as a writer putting her words out to the world every day.
Liz Steinglass inspired me to use a cinquain form (2, 4, 6, 8, then 2 syllable lines.)
One tenet of faith that I have trouble grasping is mercy. We are already forgiven even before we ask it. When I fail, I tend to wallow in self-doubt. I need to repeat the mantra I am worthy until I believe it.
“Surely goodness and mercy will follow all of my days. I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” Psalm 23
I live on the Bayou Teche in New Iberia, Louisiana. I love teaching, poetry, my dog Charlie, my three daughters, and dancing with my husband. This space is where I capture my thoughts, share my insights, and make connections with the world. Welcome! Walk in kindness.
Reflections on the Teche 