More to Say (who knew?)

Yesterday Stella and I resumed our walks in the Park. I bring one 8 by 11 piece of blank paper and a pen. At some point we find a bench. Stella sniffs and I write. This is what happened yesterday. To my surprise, my thoughts on destiny and life had more to say.

So this is, I guess, part 2 of "longing for destiny". If it's not obvious, the incredible honesty, sincerity and reflection I've found in so many blogs is the engine for these two poems. The counselor in me wants to offer guidance. The writer in me hopes my words are good . And the person in me--hey, it's just me--hopes I understand myself, and thus you, at least some of the time.....


If I knew you were weighing,
waiting,wondering about your place and space;
If I watched your emptiness
Take shape,
One day content in the simple act of
cooking dinner, with basil on your fingers,
Other times withdrawing
through the sting of disappointment,
Or confused by the countless dualities
That lead you to the familiar and unknown,
To the window and the cellar,
All at the same time. All at once.

If I knew and watched
Your hearftfelt effort
To find yourself
At the place you first got lost,
I would watch for so long;
I would be sad there is no shortcut
To wisdom
And fearful of sounding pompous,
But also, I would remember that
your heart can win out.

I could tell you a few things
That may help, depending.
I could tell you it is what it is,
That you have to feel your way through jagged walls sometimes.
But in the end they will help you balance
between the mundane and the sacred.

I could tell you the confusion stays.
It doesn’t really shrink with age,
Sometimes because of real or imagined hurts.
And sometimes because DNA works that way.

But—this is important-- the wonder stays too
As does the part you already know—
The part where love matters monumentally.

So here it is.
The Ying. The Yang. The best. The worse.
This is where you might lose it.
These damn dualities.
I can’t tell you why you might wake up in turbulence
When the rest of the world is busy watching jeopardy.

Or why sometimes you soar and other times crash.
But I can tell you to expect confusion.
To learn to work with it.
To work around it. And beside it.
And I can tell you there will always be wonder.
Exhaulted wonder,
Where for a moment the stunning fireworks
Pull you from your roots
And you know every single thing--
All of it compacted into the shining molecule of acceptance.

Can this help?
Can you stay with yourself
When the ground shifts
And you drift to uncertainty?
Can you accept before you seek?
Can you give yourself a break
And let not knowing
Sit in its own space without overflow?
You can.