Archive for April, 2008

The Knowing Place

Today I received two books of poetry in the mail.
The Rag and Bone Shop of the Heart and Good Poems.

They are hefty and filled with the renderings of so many.
I pressed them up against my heart.  Poetry: it’s my solid place,
my knowing place, my healing place, my calm place.  It is Dorothy
and that centered place she found in her own backyard (Wizard of Oz). 

Only now – I am Dorothy, with the keys to my own kingdom and poetry
is one of my many keys.  If you are reading this, I’m guessing we have
similar keys.

Love, Bethie


After we flew across the country we
got in bed, laid our bodies
delicately together, like maps laid
face to face, East to West, my
San Francisco against your New York, your
Fire Island against my Sonoma, my
New Orleans deep in your Texas, your Idaho
bright on my Great Lakes, my Kansas
burning against your Kansas your Kansas
burning against my Kansas, your Eastern
Standard Time pressing into my
Pacific Time, my Mountain Time
beating against your Central Time, your
sun rising swiftly from the right my
sun rising swiftly from the left your
moon rising slowly from the left my
moon rising slowly from the right until
all four bodies of the sky
burn above us, sealing us together,
all our cities twin cities,
all our states united, one
nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.

~Sharon Olds
Good Poems: Selected and Introduced by Garrison Keillor

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Still Open

There is a bit of the curmudgeonly in this poem.  I like it
just the same, as the saying goes.  Stick with it till the end
and see what you think.

Those final two words — I’m going to emblazon them on my
Love, Bethie

When the visitor comes,
Prying, questioning you,
Confess that you collect no stamps,
Take no color photographs,
Raise no cacti.
That you own no house,
No television set,
No room-sized fig tree.
That you do not know
Why you sit down and write,
Grudgingly, since it gives you no pleasure.
That you still have not found the meaning
Of your life, although you are getting old.
That you have loved, but not enough,
That you have fought back, but timidly.
That you have lived in many places,
But can call none of them your home.
That you want to die and are afraid.
That you can set no example except this:
Still open.

Poem entitled: Interview
Selected Later Poems of Marie Luise Kaschnitz
Translated by Lisel Mueller

Still open.

Still open.

Still open.

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Seth: “…the joy and sacredness that you seek is yours and not
outside of you; that there is no being more sacred than yourself; that
there is no being closer to the heart of creativity than yourself, and
no being that was born more faithfully out of the mind of any god than
you were.

I am trying to tell you that if you look inward and study your own
sacredness and creativity and blessedness and joy and power as
closely as you study the sacred books of the gods, then you would
realize that all those books of the gods were based upon the greater
reality of the individual – the individual soul and, therefore,
based upon your own reality.

Do yourselves just honor, and in doing yourselves that honor you will
see within yourself the gods-in-becoming that you are…”

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One Source of Bad Information

There’s a boy in you about three
Years old who hasn’t learned a thing for thirty
Thousand years. Sometimes it’s a girl.

This child has to make up its mind
How to save you from death.
He says things like: “Stay home. Avoid elevators. Eat only elk.”

You live with this child but you don’t know it.
You are in the office, yes, but live with this boy
At night. He’s uninformed, but he does want

To save your life. And he has. Because of this boy
You survived a lot. He’s got six big ideas.
Five don’t work. Right now he’s repeating them to you.

~Robert Bly

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The Task

  The task you face 
is to reconcile yourself
 with the future and
  craft yourself a
 destiny rather than
 take refuge in the 
drama of your past.

      ~Albert Villoldo

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His eyes stare at you like the black
bottom of Jersey’s shore
stretched so wide you think you
could swim in them
until you hear this noise
that starts somewhere from
the back alley of his throat
a high pitched whine
undulates through the air
like a wire stretched out beyond
it’s recall — it snaps
the sting is in the air
one whiff of it and you
don’t recognize him anymore
you slither backwards
And he inches forward to tell you
what you long to remember:

He’s built his heart with
tissue paper walls.

~elizabeth adams

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Make it Bigger

Hope this got through your spam filters! :))

I want to talk about making it bigger. Who was talking about ‘talking up’
and ‘talking down’…??? I’m so damn good at talking something up like
an old blob of fear thoughts or something not wanted, as if I want more
of it.

I’m so damn good at it that I can channel my talent into talking up.
Talking up what?
My do want’s, talking up what I love about this world, talking about
what gets
my juices flowin’, what turns me on instead of the things that turn me
inside out.

Make it bigger!

Rilke said: make big shadows I can move in.

And I want to tell you Rilke: I am, I am – they are just not the shadows
I want to walk

I want to walk in goodness, I want to walk in gratitude, I want to walk
in appreciation,
I want to walk in sunlight, whether the sun is out or not, I want to
walk like a living,
moving prayer. And I want to do it again and again and again and
again. And then —

I want to do it again.

I want to make it bigger!

Those are the shadows I want to walk in!

Walk on sister, walk on.

Love, Bethie

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I haven’t been on the Abe tapes for several months.  When I was on the Abe cruise
I thought, what the heck, and signed up again.  I just got my first tape and I’m
listening to it and some of it is going in one ear and out the other and some of it,
I’m arguing with Abe.  That really is the best kind of argument, by the way,
no one talks back when it’s a one sided argument. :)  And then I get to parts such
as what they told the woman who goes to AA.  It felt so right, so ‘on the money’.

Finally, I get to the end (which I transcribed below) and I take a deep breath and
you know what?  I’m home again.  It’s nice to be here.  Someone left the light on
for me, there’s a cup of fresh, hot tea and a comfy seat awaits me.

It’s so wonderful to be home again.  Love, Bethie

“It is our desire that while you are in these magnificent bodies, that you are able to
relax more and resist less
that you are able to
allow more and fuss and worry less
that you can find ways of
praising more and complaining less
of basking more and struggling less
of flowing more and paddling less
of laughing more and crying less.

That you can find ways of relaxing into the knowing that you are just right, in the
right place, at the right time.  That there is not some bandwagon that you need to
get on.  Or, not some thing that you need to do differently than what you are doing.

We so want you to just melt into bed tonight, as you put yourself there and feel the
warm embrace of Source Energy wrapping around you and through you — feeling
nothing but appreciation and love for your willingness to play in this co-creative game
with all of us. 

There is great love here for you.  As always, we remain eternally and joyously

Abraham-Hicks — Los Angeles, CA — 2/2/08 — Closing/Track 12

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Look within your very centered space and see the part of
you that is pure spirit.  Pure light.  Pure energy.  Visualize all
your limitations falling away one by one, until you are safe, healed
and whole.  Know that no matter what is going on in your life,
no matter how difficult things may be, at the very center of your
being you are safe, and you are whole.  You always will be.
Lifetime after lifetime, you are a shining spirit—a beautiful light.
Sometimes you come to this planet and cover your light and hide
it.  But the light is always there.  As you let those limitations go,
and as you recognize the true beauty of your being, you shine
brilliantly.  You are love.  You are energy.  You are spirit.  You are
the spirit of love shining brightly.  Let your light shine.

~Louise Hay
Heart Thoughts: A Treasury of Inner Wisdom

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Listen to things more often than beings.
Hear the voice of the fire, hear the voice of the water,
Listen in the wind to the sighing of the bush:
This is the ancestors breathing.
Those who are dead are never gone;
The dead are not down in the earth:
They are in the trembling of the trees,
In the groaning of the woods,
In the water that runs, in the water that sleeps,
They are in the hut, they are in the crowd.
Those who are dead are not ever gone;
They are in the woman’s breast, they are in the wailing of a child,
They are in the burning log and in the moaning rock.
They are in the weeping grasses, in the forest and the home.
Listen to things more often than beings.
Hear the voice of fire, hear the voice of water.
Listen in the wind to the sighing of the bush.
This is the ancestors breathing.

(traditional song from Senegal)

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