<![CDATA[Writing the Silence - Blog]]>Fri, 13 Jan 2023 05:17:23 -0700Weebly<![CDATA[Every Day]]>Wed, 18 Feb 2015 04:07:34 GMThttps://www.writingthesilence.com/blog/every-dayEvery day
the world arranges itself
into a poem:

A tree just so
A sign crazily hanging
A rumbled underlay of cloud
    woven with traffic.

Every day
the world arranges itself
into a poem

for those who seek the spaces
    between
    the words.
"It's not everyday the world arranges itself into a poem" (the words were written in my calendar and attributed to Wallace Stevens).   I was reminded of a song by Carrie Day and the trees that inspired it, And I knew deeply that the world does arrange itself into a poem every day ... I just have to remember how to see it.
]]><![CDATA[Wabi Sabi]]>Sun, 07 Dec 2014 04:36:25 GMThttps://www.writingthesilence.com/blog/wabi-sabiI do not remember
      Your gentle gathering
           slowly matching fragment
          to fragment,
     Your spacious patience
          holding each piece in place
          until it would stay on its own,
     Your very Self -
          Gold poured
          into the cracks of my being.
but I remember the day
     I saw the golden gleaming
     and recognized
     Light, Grace, You
     my beautiful broken self.
Another advent retreat (Illuminated - Jan Richardson) and a resonating discussion about Wabi Sabi:  "When the Japanese mend broken objects, the aggrandize the damage by filling the cracks with gold.  They believe that when something has suffered damage and has a history, it becomes more beautiful."  - Billie Mobaed '
]]><![CDATA[Altars]]>Sat, 28 Dec 2013 14:38:26 GMThttps://www.writingthesilence.com/blog/altersI wake up
and here I am:
lying at your altar
uncertain
how I got here
or why.

I rejoice, give thanks, and journey on
only to waken
and find myself at your altar
once again.

Journey by journey
altar by altar
wakening by wakening

the swallow and the sparrow
sing me into grace

until I see altars everywhere

and know
that they all
are One.
This year I tried out an online advent retreat.  I was surprised by how quickly a community developed online - and by how sacred the space became.  One of Jan Richardson's reflections was on Psalm 84.  A different version of the Bible changed altar to altars, which opened a new space for me ... and for this poem.  Always amazed by the impact a single word can have.
Grammatical note:  alter - to change; altar - a place for sacrifices. 
My husband questioned my spelling.  I humbly changed the poem.  :-)
]]><![CDATA[Breathing the Silence]]>Wed, 11 Dec 2013 04:37:19 GMThttps://www.writingthesilence.com/blog/breathing-the-silenceIn the space between the doing
and the being
and the becoming
there simply is.

There
in that briefest of infinities
we meet God
and with a single breath
all
becomes sacred.

I wrote this recently partway through an email to a friend - an email about the logistics of getting our two families together.  Sometimes, the sacred surprises me in the middle of the mundane.
]]><![CDATA[Welcome]]>Wed, 11 Dec 2013 04:33:38 GMThttps://www.writingthesilence.com/blog/welcomeI thought that perhaps it was time to pay attention to this site again, to begin to share some of the poems that have bubbled to the surface of the silence recently, and to perhaps re-encounter some poems I've written in the past.

I'm not quite sure where this blog is going to go, or even whether I want a blog, but here I am.  And here you are too.  Welcome.
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