Compass

Consider- APPRECIATION OF GRAVITY Gravity holds us like a mother's arms to this earthiness.... We measure, mine and calibrate as though the weight of in-formation might be a proxy for the mass of her wisdom and prudence. We cut and paste, mound and excavate. We fabricate a world of time, place, form. We manufacture arms. Arms ticking and telling of time running out, reaching for true north, judging cardinal points, suggesting, orienting, grasping, pointing, pinching, prodding toward imaginary lines on a map. Still no matter how we cavort, Our Great Mother's Arms hold us close. She listens for the rhythms of heart, breath, seasons, moons. A deep listening for pulsing blood, until it's not. And even then, what was once in-formed she composts in the depths of her tumbling round landscape.

from INTRODUCTION - We are ever turning. Seen and unseen, everywhere and everything, expressing itself in form and then spiraling out. Planets, seasons - all turning, transforming, changing. We cannot register this turning. Scientists tell us that the human organism does not have the sensory equipment to identify movement unless relative to something stable.... Maybe that's a good thing. Standing at the equator, we are spinning at about 1000 miles an hour. And the earth is also hurtling around the sun at approximately 67,000 miles per hour, while the solar system spirals through the Milky Way. And this is just astronomy. Politics, psychology, technology, spirituality - all are subject to this turning. To be without movement is to decay. And even in decay, there is a turning, a composting, preparation for what is next. The planet is programmed to digest what is and what was; turning it over and over. Living with great privilege, beauty, and security in my Central Pennsylvania home, I recognize how our culture is standing at an edge. I can no longer live as though our children will inherit the same world. Seeking a new way forward, I am asked to explore beyond my most precious ideas and ideals. I must recalibrate my navigational tools in order to move forward. These poems, divided into four sections, are meant to explore this process of personal and impersonal recalibration, evolution, revolution. I observe my identities and my sense of belonging shift and expand, reconnect, and reorient. The point of the compass quivers with each transition then recalibrates spiraling out with ever-expanding horizons. After each poem, a reflection is offered. These are not about doing. There is too much doing in our lives. While reading, relax your hands, your feet, the muscles in your face. No need to do, or go, and no need to respond with the proper expression. Poetry is about being, feeling the gift of incarnation through all our senses, balancing in this fleeting moment of be-ing-ness. Think of these reflections as an invitation to release what is no longer working. Can we fashion new ways to turn toward the future with fresh eyes and with an openness to all of your senses.