It occurred to me
that every second I spend
trying to get him
to give me the money
that is mine by law
is a second I divert my attention
from the mission
of creating my own money
by offering value to the world
doing the things I know how to do best.
I’m choosing to let go.
I was told not to hold my breath
so I’m breathing,
slowly and deeply
and with gratitude
that I can wake up to this moment
and open to being taught.
Feeling a little lost today…
it’s probably because
I was up late last night creating.
It’s amazing how the inspiration strikes
and not necessarily when it’s convenient,
and then afterwards
I see how this willingness
to answer the muse
is a sacrifice of sorts.
I give of my time and energy,
and now I have this art.
I have to give to receive.
Can I trust
that what I’m willing to give is enough?
Can I trust
that the light will pour through me
in exactly the way that it’s meant to?
Can I trust
that there are no mistakes,
only opportunities to learn and grow?
Thank you, sweet muse,
for visiting me tonight
and shedding light
on my vision.
Thank you for making it fun.
Thank you for breathing me
as the old mind came undone.
Thank you for the new mind,
the mind of creative fulfillment,
the mind of flow, and trust,
the mind of service to the higher good.
Thank you for the mind of health,
the mind of prosperity,
the mind of joy.
Thank you for helping me to see
that it is all possibility now,
everything is available to me,
As I see all of life with this new mind.
Ah, today’s prompt transported me to the world of Sylvia Plath. I spent some time reading her and loving her, amazed by the depth and the intensity of feeling evoked by her words. Truly masterful were her combinations of sounds and phrasing. Sometimes as I read them aloud the words became percussive in my ears. For this penultimate day of NaPoWriMo 2018 I chose Plath’s Poem “Elm” as the starting point for my poem.
Here are the first three tercets of Plath’s poem. I just love them.
I know the bottom, she says. I know it with my great tap root:
It is what you fear.
I do not fear it: I have been there.
Is it the sea you hear in me,
Or the voice of nothing, that was your madness?
Love is a shadow.
How you lie and cry after it
Listen: these are its hooves: it has gone off, like a horse.
And now here you go with today’s poem:
I know the bliss of realization, she says. I know it with my greatest summit.
It is what you dream of.
I do not dream it: I live there.
Is it the galaxy you taste in me,
Or the embodiment of forever, that was your serenity?
Love is pure light.
How you move and sing with it
Feel: these are its wings: it rests with you, like an angel.
The responsibility of privilege is absolute integrity.
Sources of inspiration coalesce,
sending me the same message
until it reaches in
and takes root.
they’re all saying the same thing:
Open, grow, let it flow.
So I open.
I open more.
And the changes come slowly at first,
but then more quickly over time.
I see my responsibility
in opening to possibility
and how the only one ever
holding me back was, well,
Now, this, this is power:
realizing that the failure was mine,
but now so is the success.
And I get to choose.
I was walking across a parking lot today
when movement up above caught my eye.
Looking up into the bright blue,
cold, clear autumn sky
I saw a gorgeous hawk
circling slowly overhead.
Transfixed, I stopped,
struck by the graceful
stretch of wings
and the way the bird
was allowing itself to float
on invisible circles of air.
What if we could do that?
I asked myself.
Don’t we all have to stretch
before we can fly?
I wondered what would happen
if I stretched myself like this,
and allowed myself
to be buoyed up
by the invisible forces
that constantly move me.