I wrote about paradox in Warrior’s Quest and part of the motivating force was this poem. It takes real courage to accept paradox and hold the tension. The hole in the whole completes the whole.
Thirty spokes
meet in the hub.
Where the wheel isn’t
is where it’s useful.
Hollowed out,
clay makes the pot.
Where the pot’s not
is where it’s useful.
Cut doors and windows
to make a room.
Where the room isn’t
there’s room for you.
So the profit in what is
is in the use of what isn’t.
Lao Tzu
I sat today and was going to post a Lao Tzu poem, The Uses of Not. I typed a short preamble and realized it was a Sabbath poem. Sometimes it is in paradox I find the most sense. It is in questions that I deepen conversations. I am in service of the questions. Earlier this week, I said I spent much of my life chasing answers. This is an echo of Father Richard Rohr who says maturity leads us to stop chasing certainty. I seek eloquent questions with no ready answers: and invite others into conversations. I might have used pirate, but I began reading Shambhala:The Path of the Sacred Warrior by Chögyam Trungpa recently and it offered a new understanding, for me, of the word warrior.
Paradox–
Seemingly incompatible tempest
Space invites space
Forms a spacious meadow.
Deepen conversations–
Without ready answers;
But, eloquent questions
Be open, surprised.
A warrior’s quest–
Lighten the load
Be grateful and receive the gifts
Serve the journey.
Shape paths–
Ready each step
Because it is right
And not fully known.
I enjoy the counter cultural nature of Parker Palmer’s writing and the concepts in the Art of Hosting. I write about Parker‘s work often and he describes the listening we need to do to our inner teacher and others as counter cultural. When we invite people into conversation, listen deeply, and ask questions which shake our certainty about the world the same applies.
Today, I walked to the top of Cates Hill here on Bowen Island. It was spectacular. A colleague took this picture as I was writing. Notice I am on high ground and wearing sandals. I got up there of my accord
Perched pensively
Pencil in hand;
My senses alive
I awake–
Aware.
Sounds flow,
A breeze caresses,
Sunlight bathes,
Peaceful moments–
I bask in each.
It was a long day. I was up at 5:45 AM, on a flight at 11:30 AM, and just wrapping up my day in a different time zone than the one I began the day in. Again, I had a great day and will find time to speak about it as the days move on. I am doing an Art of Hosting workshop and the first day was pretty incredible. It speaks to the David Whyte poem about thing coming to life even when unplanned and only need nourishment and nurturing to come to life.
In that first hardly noticed moment in which you wake,
coming back to this life from the other
more secret, moveable and frighteningly honest world
where everything began,
there is a small opening into the new day
which closes the moment you begin your plans.
What you can plan is too small for you to live.
What you can live wholeheartedly will make plans enough
for the vitality hidden in your sleep.
To be human is to become visible
while carrying what is hidden as a gift to others.
To remember the other world in this world
is to live in your true inheritance.
You are not a troubled guest on this earth,
you are not an accident amidst other accidents
you were invited from another and greater night
than the one from which you have just emerged.
Now, looking through the slanting light of the morning window
toward the mountain presence of everything that can be
what urgency calls you to your one love?
What shape waits in the seed of you
to grow and spread its branches
against a future sky?
Is it waiting in the fertile sea?
In the trees beyond the house?
In the life you can imagine for yourself?
In the open and lovely white page on the writing desk?
Father Richard Rohr wrote an excellent meditation this morning. He wrote about discovering the self and all day his words came back into my quiet moments. I am tired, but I feel more awake now, because there is something exciting in being lost.
Discover self–
Imperfect, unrefined;
Genuine, real–
Not hidden;
Unvarnished, vulnerable.
Happiness appears;
Refuge
Falsehoods recede–
Ever so slowly,
Spirit wakens–
Revitalized and awake.
Last week, I wrote Mojo Gathers Momentum. A gift of my journey to Bainbridge was the realization I had lost the belief I was a good teacher. I have never believed this was my place to speak to that. There is a certain humility a teacher should have and extends beyond patting myself on the back. What I do know and recognize is I am different teacher. I have modeled my approach after teachers I believed operated on the margins and accepted that is their place. It was a place that they could do more good for students and the communities we live in.
false security
when hidden
yet, fully surrounded–
paradox of my humanness.
stand out
reveal blemishes
make them obvious
revel in them.
great teachers
found comfort on the margins
not hidden in the crowd
stepped out with pride.
humanness lived;
so fully
it reveals imperfections
for I am human, after all.
I close my week with this wonderful poem by May Sarton. As I reflect on the week passed, I hope I am left with more questions than answers and the time to luxuriate in the space between the question and answer. I noticed today and yesterday, when I pause and let go, my monkey mind chatter is greatly reduced. It has been helpful.
The phoebe sits on her nest
Hour after hour,
Day after day,
Waiting for life to burst out
From under her warmth.
Can I wave a nest for silence,
Weave it out of listening,
Listening,
Layer upon layer?
But one must first become small,
Nothing but a presence
Attentive as a nesting bird,
Proffering no slightest wish
Toward anything that might happen
Or be given,
Only the warmth, faithful waiting,
Contained in one’s smallness.
Beyond the question, the silence.
Before the answer, the silence.
It was a long week and I am not sure, in my tiredness, where this poem came from, but it appeared on the horizon. I thought I would try to let it write itself.
Listen–
Stories seek space
A space where they come to life
A space to speak their words.
Listen deeply–
Some stories
Of those oppressed
Remain unheard.
Listen with your heart–
Lean into those words,
Give those voices life
Join them with yours.
The dominant society or group within believes they control the conversation. What would happen if we trusted each other and made ourselves vulnerable? What would happen if we acknowledged and accepted differences? It takes courage, but it is possible. It takes us to acknowledge the other and reach out. In those moments of vulnerability and courage, we expose our self in ways that take us outside comfort zones.
There is courage in vulnerability
One sits on the edge;
The perimeter
Or margins
Not hidden in the crowd.
Expand boundaries–
Encourage and pull
Do not discourage and pull
Make invisible visible
Give a name to the other.
Create spaces;
Not for agreement
But, where agreement meets
On the edges
Reveal the other in your welcome.
This was not originally a poem. It was a summary of the past year and the struggle to find a new space where I could create and be fully present. It all began in Oakland about this time last year and has grown with each ensuing day.
It just happened–
I let go
Spoke without anger–
A sadness;
For what is lost.
Stared into the abyss–
Sat with unformed questions
Terrifying
The darkness;
The incompleteness.
Took stock
Looked inwards–
Accepted extended hands
Discarded baggage
Walked towards the light.
Mojo gained momentum–
Sprung up in a creative space
Simple presence
Live my truth;
With each moment’s question.
Teacher as Transformer 