It was September when I brought home these uncommonly dark, richly coloured Stargazers. Within days, the blooms were gone. I planted the bulbs in the garden, and all winter I waited.
The lilies became a symbol for my own internal transitions. Unidentified potential skulking about in me. Restless and impatient with containment, angry and eager to burst. Bruised by the longing to be.
And at the same time, a growing sense of all that is alive in the universe that we do not see. Reading about experiments in physics demonstrating that light is sentient and, in its way, senses us. Waits in its own state of potential for us to choose and take part in the co-creation of what is and what will be.
Awaiting warmth of sun
Churning deep plum
Like a bruise
A cold and soundless
Waiting with hint of light
For scent of night
Alive with bloom
I hear a lot of talk about the state of the world. Often, I hear statements that begin with vision and understanding and shift quickly into sentences starting with, “but sadly… .” I hear a lot of voices filled with resignation saying “I hope… .” The implication being “I hope I’m wrong about where all this is headed.” This is not hope.
Hope is not passive.
Hope is not waiting to see what will happen. Hope is not about outcomes. Hope is making choices. Hope is choosing what you do with your thoughts, where you focus your attention, what you do in response to the challenges in your world. Hope is not passive.
Hope is investing in life. Showing up. Being here – for however long you get to be here. You wonder sometimes, “is there any hope for us, for our world?” Youare our hope. Be here! I am our hope. Stand with me! All we have to do is show up, see ourselves in each other and choose accordingly.
What if we go in
What if we go under
Where sunlight doesn’t reach
What if the guards step aside
And let us enter
What if there is light still?
How will we re-configure ourselves
How will we wrap ourselves
Within and around a reality
That is unending
What if there is a way
And we have already chosen it?
What if we surprise ourselves
What if we step aside
And let the mystery prevail
What if we are not masters of our destiny
In a great gamble
Of opportunity and chance
Where risk and reward
Are synonymous with play
And the consequence is freedom
What if the guards were put in place
By our own fear
What if they were never really here?
Fear is just a pioneer
Leading our way into undiscovered territory
Making of us children at the feet of a great storyteller
Where colour has no rules and form is open to interpretation
And the unexpected is the stuff of life
And the trail leads on as the story goes
And the artist knows what we fail to imagine
But the ground is broken
And the sun is high
And the first faces will break the chain of habitual seeing
And the pioneers will break their hold on the living
And no more will the roots of tyranny determine our destiny
It was a war-torn yesterday
Sometimes I still wake up
And forget to pray
Pray for the living
The souls who made it through
Pray for the dying of the fears,
The sacrifice that blew through us
Pray for the waters that rinsed us clean
Pray for the loss of damn near everything
So we can breath this fresh air
Sometimes I wake sad
Because I remember
Prayers are not requests
They are thank yous
And I still carry the scars of desperation that is wanting by nature
But in truth, in sweet everlasting truth,
I am desperate for nothing
I want for nothing, and never was I in need,
Because this love was in me all along
And these scars?
They are only reminders
That I am responsible
And when the day comes,
It has me holding hands with my sisters and my brothers
And I can feel the circuitry
I can taste the music on my tongue
And we stand in this circle
And we pray for this fire that lights our faces
And ignites our smiles
And gives us the gift of each other
We pray for the morning
We pray that our hearts have won
We pray that we are not singular,
And “I” is not a burden
We must bear anymore