Finding My Way
How do I respond to the lone tree in the field
its branches outstretched with uncertainty
Shall I walk up and wrap my arms around it
with a grip that gives it no choice but to stand tall
Maybe I step into the gentle stream by its side
allowing the soothing, clear water to carry me away
Perhaps my eyes hold the color of the light upon its leaves
to guide me moment by moment in finding my way
This is a revised version of a poem that I wrote about 6 years ago and posted on one of my earlier blogs, Mostly My Heart Sings. Time definitely has a way of softening things. Anniversaries of my breast cancer diagnosis, my lumpectomy and my mastectomy have passed and I didn’t even notice. That’s what the distance of 8 years can do. I found my way through uncertainty with a little gripping, a lot of floating, and mostly keeping my eye on the light.
* I took this photo of the afternoon sunlight streaming through the maple tree in front of our motel room in Door County, Wisconsin this past August.
when i empty my thoughts
when I empty my thoughts
of the judgement and expectation
when feelings tied to my thoughts
dissipate like fog in the sunshine
then I am free
and life can flow through me
then I am awake
fully experiencing this moment
in all its subtlety and richness
* I took this photo of a phlox blossom in my back yard. I didn’t realize there was this beautiful critter upon it until I set up for my shot. What a delightful surprise!
When you showed up
You showed up without an invitation.
bursting into my life unexpectedly.
I set out to beat you,
determined to show you
just how things will be the same
and I will be who I have always been.
Yet, you won –
you showed me
how your power changes things
and I was different the moment you showed up.
This poem is about how unexpected challenges change us, despite (or sometimes because of) our resistance or denial. I wrote it originally in spring of 2012 about my experience with an unexpected breast cancer diagnosis. Circumstances are different, yet the wisdom seems fitting as much today as it did back then.
* I took this photo of the needles on a saguaro cacti in San Agustinillo, Mexico.