Tracings 12/21/11

The world limned by light

Objects without 

Laid down in brain images

The light passed through crystalline lens and focused upside down on my retinas

As my eyes’ focus jumps in saccades

Cone and rod receptors activate neurons exuding tiny packets of neurochemicals

And the brain puts together a picture

Inside 

Of what is out there,

Filling in the blanks of the space between the saccades and the blind spots of the confluence

Of nerves flowing from the eye to the brain

And I believe this is truly the reality outside me.

Yet how malleable my memory.

Though when brain is bared by surgeon’s bone saw, knife, and cautery

A small stimulation recreates the exact sight/sound/smell/feel/taste of the moment, as if it were there 

In front of me once again never mind that I had forgotten,

My recall is distorted by so many things, and is

At best an interpretation and subject to gross errors of commission and omission.

I see what I expect to see, and miss what I am not looking for;

“Eye witness” is mind witness, and I may be overwhelmed, confused, inattentive,

Subject to interjections by others, or to strong emotions and beliefs of my own

That I add to my tracings, and then I remember that, rather than the ? original.

And out of all this I learn the best representation I can make of reality, as it peeks in

Through my senses, as I reach out with all my being

To know it. 

This is my world.

Tracings

Now

This, a poem,
springs lightly from my pen
but deeply from my being
as I move along one
of the golden arabesques
that trace paths through
space-time.

Thus ... and ... so.

Guided by the lightest melody
a soft stirring of air
a child's laugh
the scent of lilacs
the taste of ripe plums
the tug of feeling in my heart and belly
a hummingbird's flight
the breath of God's spirit.

Now ... eternally.

If I always dwelt here
in the living flowing outer bark
of time...
the past enclosed within,
the future yet to grow ...
feeling, listening, seeing,
breathing in and out,
being and becoming,

Then would I be the most aware,
able to act,
interconnected with all,
part of the power and beauty
of the world.

Creation

I go to walk in the wonder of creation,

Letting go the encircling indoor ways of man.

I stretch my heart and body free,

Learn to listen, see, touch, perceive.

There a hawk soars, here a tree stands.

Each place I look a miracle unfolds.

Small creatures rustle in the grass.

Tracks and paths lead everywhere.

Sky and earth, sun and air,

Rocks and water, animals and plants,

Treasures, teachers, companions, loves,

Four directions beckon me.

Thank you, God, for the gift of life,

And for the Earth, the gift of home.

The fresh wind blows the leaves to laughter,

Joy dances in my soul.

copyright 2011 Barbara Showalter

Why I Walk

We're a little late this morning.
I walk to the car barefoot,
carrying my socks and shoes,
barely noticing
the fresh cool dew on the grass.
No delays in driving;
I drop my daughter off
in time for her class.

Then I step out (shoes on)

and

o-p-e-n

my attention

to the world.


A quiet breath of welcome greets me.

I feel the soft kiss
of radiant morning sunshine
warm against my skin,

the soft cool stirrings of
the airy ocean in which I move.

I smell the subtle background fragrance
of sun-warmed earth and plants.

An oasis of shade, green leaves above
whispering intermittently in the breeze.

Sweet sharpness of blackberries,
plucked from their protective brambles.


I am home,

contentedly cradled

in my mother's womb.



copyright Barbara Showalter 2011

Calling

I wrote this in 2000 after a day when I spent an hour with someone severely grieving and depressed, and who was becoming suicidal, and after 2 weeks of two long contacts with this person, and 4 with another person going through a crisis. During those weeks I was also working on shifting a difficult pattern with one of my children, starting to talk about some problems with the medical board with people, having long talks with a particular friend, and having several people severely sick, two of whom died. Needless to say, a very demanding time, when I felt stretched very thin. This is a reflection on the deep part of my calling, which I felt very clearly then. (Sometimes it's not quite so evident when things are going "well"; the times of challenge seem to be where I dig the deepest.)


I listen
and feel

and the words come
that I need to reach you
to comfort, to sustain.

I pray and reach out,
connect the far-flung resources
that each person needs,

weaving together a community,

seeking my path, listening for God's
voice and direction, feeling for my part,
for the direction of my growth and work.

I work to feel your path and possibilities --
What calls to you? What supports you?
What pulls you through times of despair and
confusion? What helps you remember laughter,
remember that you are loved, feel understood?
What gives you peace, hope, and encouragement?

We talk together, moving between tears and laughter.
Love and understanding blossom. We matter, we
make a difference to each other and the world.
We find hope, gather courage, seek peace in
an uncertain world.

I take the time, stretch to hold your world in
mine (and release the strain, the pain, into God's
world, because he's big enough to hold it all).

I don't know how I find the path from
hopelessness to laughter, how the honesty
and trust and caring build (though ingredients
are listening, touch, sharing, time, concern,
and God).

As the shift occurs I relax, and
start to break away from the intensity, to other
things I have to do. I feel a deep
satisfaction, and also am sometimes drained.
A birth has occurred, with pain and joy
and exhaustion. Things are changed, but
there's much more to do.

Sometimes I feel -- how can I do
more? What about my limits? How far
can I stretch? ... How many lives have
I stretched around? How can I hold this
set of problems?

Then again ... how can I not?

Were I not using my gifts where
I am called, I would not be living,
not truly. (Perhaps an empty motion, a
superficial enjoyment -- a living death.)
I choose life, love, healing, learning,
growth. There's no rote set of directions
or words or actions, no formula; only the
challenge of awareness, of listening to
the whisper of Spirit each moment,
of following my intuition, of going
deeper and learning and growing in all
aspects of myself. (And there's frustration
and disappointment when I fail, as with
distraction, fatigue, settling for less;
then I pick back up and recommit to
applying this to all aspects of my life.)


copyright Barbara Showalter 2000.