The Gift of Watching and Being Watched

©2017 ML Monroe

When for too long I don't go deep enough into the woods to see them, they begin to enter my dreams. Yes, there they are, in the pinewoods of my inner life. I want to live a life full of modesty and praise. Each hoof of each animal makes the sign of a heart as it touches then lifts away from the ground. Unless you believe that heaven is very near, how will you find it? Their eyes are pools in which one would be content, on any summer afternoon, to​ swim away through the door of the world. Then, love and its blessing. Then: heaven.

~ Mary Oliver

New and Selected Poems: Volume Two

My final evening visiting friends in Arizona, I stepped out on the back porch with my cell phone softly belching 'on hold' music. The air was fresh, cool and clear. Birds chirped and chattered. I turned the noise even softer. Distracted, I walked toward the end of the porch. Movement in the side yard caught my attention. Two young mule deer munched on greenery. I ended the phone call.

I stood still, staring at the two deer. One kept turning toward me. The other moved forward to munch on the leaves hang in front of the face turned in my direction. Not a great move. The first deer turned from watching me to rise up on his hind legs and push his sibling away. As the intruding deer moved away to find his own green space, the first deer turned his gaze toward me, and stepped in my direction. I stood quiet staring back, watching him prance one, two, three steps closer. I lifted my phone, opened the camera, and took the above picture.

As Mary Oliver says, When...I don't go deep enough...to see them, they begin to enter my dreams. Yes, there they are, in the pinewoods of my inner life. I breathed deeply, held myself ​as still as my muscles could manage, returned the direct stare of the gentle mule deer.

The deer showed up strongly as I prepared to travel on from this place. This lovely encounter opens to several meanings. The deer sees between shadows and hear what hasn't been said. It is sensitive, intuitive and in touch with the mysteries of life. It has the magical capacity to regenerate as well as pass through life and obstacles with grace. Its gentle vigilance teaches me to stay relaxed, at ease and aware.

I'm grateful for the coming of the deer. Much of my travel has focused on Ancient Peoples sites and stories. I'm grateful also for what they have taught and shared about the animals and land around them.

What creatures have recently showed up in your life? What of themselves are they sharing with you? How will you incorporate their message for you? How often do you find yourself acknowledging or even noticing the elements of nature around you?

Continuing the Season of Death

When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn; ....
I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?
And therefore I look upon everything 
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility

~ Mary Oliver

Today was a day for encountering and addressing death.
As I volunteered at a literary fair early in the day, a young woman shared that she was writing a book about death. We discussed the awkward way our culture encounters or ignores both death and the processes that bring us closer to it. We shared resources on the topic and I felt that simple sensation of synchronicity ~ being in the right place at the right time and paying attention to what surfaces. When I asked her what she was writing, she could have dodged the question. She didn't. Her directness opened me to share a resource I'd recently received on the same topic. A brief, but touching conversation and a recognition of not being alone in my explorations of topics relating to death.

Leaving that setting, I received a message from a friend about the likelihood of taking her old dog to the vet to have him put to sleep. She was struggling between her desire to have him out of pain and her attachment to having him in her life. We spent a few moments slipping between that quiet space of friends sharing the unknown sadness and conversing about how or when it might happen.

My next stop of the day was the church where we were going to celebrate the life of a friend who had recently died. I was helping set the hall for the reception happening afterward. During the memorial service, family members and friends shared stories and memories of our absent friend. It was good to share the space, the stories, the farewells. Continuing the celebration and memorial at a local pub, we chatted about the health of other friends and what those challenges might mean in the near future.

As I drove home, I reflected on the conversations and the deep heart space I shared with each and all of the people on this day. I thought of Mary Oliver's poem When Death Comes. Her words talk about grabbing life for all its worth, being alive fully, so that when death comes, which it will for each of us, we can say we were present to all life had to offer.

Until death comes for me or for those close to me, I face the choice of avoiding it or confronting it or embracing it or acknowledging it. They aren't mutually exclusive choices ~ and my choices may change from one moment to the next.

Where do you stand in your expression of life? How much do you invest in avoiding the topic of death? How do you want to be remembered when you die? What more would you like to do in your life?

Standing within the Otherness

©2014 Mary-Lynne Monroe

"I stood willingly and gladly in the characters of everything ~ other people, trees, clouds. And this is what I learned, that the world's otherness is antidote to confusion ~ that standing within this otherness ~ the beauty and the mystery of the world, out in the fields or deep inside books ~ can re-dignify the worst stung heart."

~ Mary Oliver

What a rich and vibrant imagination Mary Oliver has! She writes of the capacity, the ability to stand in the character of another ~ whether that 'other' is human or not. I meditated deeply on this concept, which was a good thing to do. I remembered times when I did perhaps what she writes of, or perhaps something that's only akin to it.

In February of 2014 a friend and I took a short road trip. We arrived late and settled into our room. I woke earlier than she did so I bundled myself up, gathered my camera and gloves, and set out for a walk. The air was clear and crisp with frost covering the shaded bushes. I set a quick pace. Every possible element of nature seen on that walk spoke to me ~ the high blue-shadowed hillsides, the stark trees with their arms askew, the noisy crows. I spoke to them all as I snapped photos. As I was returning to the motel, caws became louder, more insistent and angry. I looked around for the cause of the crow's ire. Sitting in a nearby tree was a beautiful red-tailed hawk. Whispering my gratitude to my beloved crows, I pointed my camera into the branches. The hawk seemed to pause, posing for me, head turning from side to side, body occasionally bouncing forward. I was so engrossed that when the hawk took flight, I could feel my body lighten and lift. Although at that moment, I lost sight of the hawk, I felt the full extension of the wings catching air. Returning to myself, I went inside the motel to prepare for the rest of my day ~ overflowing with joy and gratitude.

Have you had an experience of connection with nature, of 'standing in the character of another'? What was it like? How did you feel afterward? How would you step into nature to find that kind of experience? Are there other authors who have described the kind of experience you had?

Grief and Gathering Strength

"Sunset" by Louie Rochon (used by permission)

When it's over, I want to say all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.
When it's over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular
and real.
I don't want to find myself sighing and
frightened,
or full of argument.
I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.

~ Mary Oliver, When Death Comes

Yesterday a dear sister left this world. She lived her life with gusto, aplomb and originality, much as Mary Oliver's poem suggests. Many people, many women, continue to post their memories and good-byes on Facebook. Sassy Songbird certainly left a mark in her world.

Those messages are an acknowledgement of the grief being felt, the sense of loss. That's as it should be. We live in a culture that too often tells us to 'buck up' ~ in whatever terminology used ~ and not let death get to us. We focus in terms of 'seeing the person again'  and 's/he's in a better place' and 'God must have wanted another angel.' Although each of those belief systems holds validity, we have a right, and a responsibility to ourselves and those we love, to allow the tears, to feel the sadness, to experience whatever emotions arise ~ anger, fear, melancholy, bafflement, peace, joy, any emotion ~ and to express those emotions. Not to take them out on others, but to allow our hearts and souls to feel them.

Each emotion we feel carries us on the waves of healing. Our feelings help us to gather strength from within as well as from those around us. We become more of a community when we acknowledge our feelings to each other. It bonds us together even if those feelings are different. Sharing creates the bonds of strength. It also creates our internal strength. We allow room for others. We recognize our vulnerability. We grow.

Louie Rochon's image shows that sort of strength in the beauty of nature. One petal alone would not stand. Together, even though not tightly bound, the petals are strong and beautiful. As we are, when we allow the connections, the touching.

How does grief affect you? How do you express those feelings? and with whom? How do you gather strength from your connections with others?

Writers Sometimes Give Up.....

©2013 Mary-Lynne Monroe

I was looking for some word of inspiration and turned to one of my favorite poets ~ Mary Oliver. This tidbit showed up in the quote stream found on the internet. I felt called into it... like Alice tumbling through the looking glass... only to see myself both reflected within and without.

As I've been writing these posts over the past month ~ and posting links to them in more public venues than my blog itself ~ I find my curiosity peaked to know what draws people in to read? what phrasing catches them? what line connects to the line of their lives? When I fell into this quote and let it surround me... when it flowed into me and was absorbed... I recognized that my curiosity and my questions sometimes took me off the track of my own writing and onto the track of writing what someone else might want. So, whether or not anyone chooses to read what I write, I am reminded to be true to myself, to the call of my own rough-edged myths and let that be what I write.

Gratitude flows around me like a mist. Gratitude for the teachers and mentors in my life. Gratitude for friends. Gratitude for every moment of life itself.

What motivates you? What "rough edges" do you smooth out to 'accommodate' others? What are you called to do with your life?

Married to Amazement

Mary Oliver is one of my favorite poets. Her imagery and word choice are vibrant. This snippet from her poem When Death Comes leaves me breathless. Consider the timing ~ as death is coming ~ and the image of a bride and bridegroom. Not concepts we generally put together. Yet Mary Oliver does. Wow.



I love what follows as well:

When it is over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.
I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.

As I continue through this season and into the year, what courses through my system, finding the rhythm of my heartbeat is that final line: I don't want to end up simply having visited this world. I can easily say that we all want to DO something with our lives, but this one is personal. It sticks to me like salt after a dip in the ocean, like garlic on my fingers after making pizza, like the song that keeps playing in my head. It's not important if I'm visible to others, if I am known for anything in particular. Sometimes I want those things, knowing they fade all too quickly. What is important is to have cherished and relished and lived as many moments in this life as I can. What is important is to be present, and to be awake and aware.

What line from a poem, book, speech, or your best friend touches your soul right now?