Willfulness

Read these weekly reflections on The Huffington Post and VividLife.


In November, Sounds True will publish a new, expanded edition of Inside the Miracle: Enduring Suffering, Approaching Wholeness, which gathers twenty-eight years of my writing and teaching about suffering, healing, and wholeness, including thirty-nine new poems and prose pieces not yet published. One of the great transforming passages in my life was having cancer in my mid-thirties. This experience unraveled the way I see the world and made me a student of all spiritual paths. With a steadfast belief in our aliveness, I hope what’s in this book will help you meet the transformation that waits in however you’re being forged. The following piece is an excerpt from the book.


 


Willfulness


(for Nur)


 


To inhale


enough of the world


when you’re told


you have cancer


so the dark fruit


never seems larger


than your orbit.


 


To do what you


have never done


to stay in the


current of life.


 


To fly 1000 miles


to meet someone


you dreamt


might help.


 


To pray in tongues


you’ve dismissed.


 


To think in ways


others distrust.


 


To use money


like a shovel


to dig


for time.


 


To cross


the grasslands


between us with


a tongue like


a machete


cleanly


sweeping


a path.


 


To weep


when the pain


won’t stop.


 


To breathe slowly


when the weeping


won’t stop.


 


To insist


that friends


don’t pamper you


or look at you


as sentenced


or contagious.


 


To slap the thought


from their eyes


with your heart.


 


To climb the days


like mountains


for moments


like summits


 


where the light


spreads your face


and the constant


wind makes you forget


the pains in


getting there.


 


To stand as tall


as the weight


you are bearing


will allow.


 


To rely


on your spirit


which waits within


like a thoroughbred


for the heel


of your will


in its ribs.


 


To feel


the vastness


of night


and know


you still


have love


to fill it.


 


To accept


you can snuff


in a gust, but


to stay devoted


to the art


of flicker.


 


 


A Question to Walk With: In conversation with a loved one or friend, describe someone you know who is both gentle and strong.

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Published on September 21, 2015 06:24
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