POET — COACH — GROUP PROCESS FACILITATOR
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A few reflections.
From a Thursday morning, a morning of departure. From a week of convening, learning, leading.
And a few gratitudes expressed.
Blessed again.
With people that show up
aawith love,
aawith learning.
Blessed again.
With heard and answered prayer
aaof hope,
aaof belonging.
Blessed again.
By life flowing
aahere, there,
aahere again, there again.
When I wish navigating guidelines, I suppose in overarching attempt to live a good life, I so often return to varied surrenders to flow, and to varied welcomes of joy. Images and words of flow and joy come calling to me, collecting me again, centering me again. It is the Zen part of me that so appreciates a simplicity.
And thus, a few impressions this morning.
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It is true for me,
perhaps for many,
that I, and we, seek to feel
states of flow.
I, and perhaps we, must
know Life’s irrepressibility.
Emphasizing kindness
and practicing consciousness
the best that I can,
the best that we can,
within ourselves
and with others.
It is true for me,
perhaps for many,
that there is deeply satisfying joy
to do so.
A bow to the way that any of us live from flow and joy.
A bow for the way that flow and joy live us.
I’m glad for a weekend in Southern Utah. I’m glad for images that inspire. For me, in this photo above, it’s the vista of red rock mountains, held by expansive blue skies, towering next to sweeping lava fields, that are speckled with persistent desert flowers and other vegetation — yup, that will do it.
Sometimes, we live in the spectacular. Or give our energy to the spectacular. Sometimes, for me, for many of us, the spectacular is found in the most simple. In love. In friendship. In breath. In opened heart. In lettuce wraps. In snuggle.
I often find I’m most alive when returned to the simple, to moment of breathless vista, be that the outer landscape of reaching geography, or the inner landscape of reaching heart.
I wish
often
the simple.
In thought.
In feeling.
The simple
that speckles
within it all.
To have that
guide.
Prosed poetry is often the format through which I write in my personal journal. It’s a lot of observations. About what is near to me, inner and outer. I often write and rewrite in the spirit of “note to self — remember this today.” Or, “note to team — what if this guided us today?”
My prosed poetry so often sources from my listening habits, wanting to hear a clarity from within. I tend to write reminders to guide life lived with courage and clarity of heart.
The images above are compelling to me. From a beautiful and moving weekend in Midway, Utah, a short drive from where I live. Autumn leaves. A creek flowing. A blue sky compelling. Loving company. All of which helped create this prose, these notes below.
Stay steady.
Follow what brings life and joy.
Appreciate beauty.
Welcome what gives breath and belonging.
Follow what flows.
Into the inspiring patterns.
Trust that it all invites contribution,
and alway has.
Love it that every moment
inherently invites a now, and a next.
The poetry so often guides to the questions for me. It’s one of my favorite things to pivot from poetic expression to a question that engages myself, the individual, or the group. I tend to pick one and let that be enough to begin for some circled listening.
What holds you steady these days?
In what ways are you experiencing life and joy?
What have you appreciated lately that is beautiful to you?
In what ways are you finding breath and belonging?
What do you notice lately that flows so naturally?
What inspiring patterns are you living or compelled to live?
How is it that you are currently trusting your contribution or the contribution of others?
What invitation are you loving now?
What is this moment, this very moment, inviting you to?
Yah, the questions are abundant. They invite story. They invite witness. They invite noticing. They invite becoming. The ability to ask the questions of myself and of others is so often what I rely upon in helping groups move to more wisdom and kindness, to more helpfulness and life-giving practice.
Into the deeply personal, yet also, so universal. Into the leaves. Into the creeks. Into the blue sky of the beautiful humans that we are.