A very special day today. There was champagne. There were toasts. This was a day of celebration. Three people became closer friends. Three people cracked themselves wide open to their core. Three people held nothing back. We trusted completely, we allowed, we spoke our truth from deep within knowing each of us was open to hearing, opening to listening, open to understanding with not an ounce of judgment. It was a very safe place to express. These sorts of days cannot be planned. These sorts of days are a gift, given freely. A gift accepted with love.
Remember the old song "Poetry in Motion"? Kathleen quipped our day was "Poetry in Emotion". She was absolutely correct. We read and listened for over three hours. Suddenly we all knew we were exhausted. Break time. We had read with emotion our deepest thoughts. We had spoken our deepest truths. We listened intently to each other. We felt deeply. We understood. We knew each others happiness, and laughed. We knew each others sadness and cried. It was indeed a day of "Poetry in Emotion". A gift to carry with us forever.
Would you like to hear a poem or three? One by each of us? Thought so. :o) Here goes.
Dreams or Reality
by: Ivan
Who can say?
The images are
clear, muted, colorful,
dreary, sad, excited, terrifying
Don’t judge by the
appearances—allow the
vision to tell its story
Have courage to hear the
Wind of the Unconscious
tell you what you need
to hear. Listen for the
“still, small voice” with a
trust and faith that the
Creator within wants you
to live without.
Stay true to the story
that is being told. Allow
the chapters to be written
by the Unseen writer
Know the story might
never be “done”
“It is written”
 |
| Ivan reading. |
The Ship
by: Kathleen
Patience.
It takes time to turn
one’s ship of life.
And by mid-life
it is a big ship.
I have been working the wheel
for some time now,
feeling the resistant press
of the ocean water against my hull
as I slowly change direction.
Yet, I hold fast to the awareness
that I have moved,
that each day
my angle to the sun is new.
And I keep on
in faith.
Patience
 |
| Kathleen listening. |
Total Freedom
by: Donna
And so we sit
naked in the late
afternoon sun
drying ourselves.
Habibi wrapped in an
orange towel -
me plopeed in all
my 64 years of glory
in a blue chair
on the back terrace.
Hair once on my belly,
fondly known as
my 'hair strip'
has found it way to
my chin.
I sit with a ten times
mirror, attempting
to rectify the invasion
if only termporarily.
The warm Mexican breeze carasses
my skin
and drys my hair.
I glance once or twice
behind and upward
to see if anyone
may be gazing
down at our private moment
from the nearby roof.
The shadows are long
and form exact shapes
on the courtyard walls.
Birds begin their even song,
cocks crow,
distant traffic makes its way
to unknown destinations.
The sun sets as
I will set one day
Always there
Always in existence
Only disappearing
from our limited view.
 |
| 3/8ths and 44 enthralled by it all. |
|
|
When I asked 3/8's if she had a poem she would like to share, she very shyly and in a little voice said the following.
Sheep don't fly.
Why?
It was time for dinner. We sat on the terrace, enjoying the soft air and feeling the darkness of night embrace us. Candles flickered, water bubbled in the fountain, dusk came and went, the stars appeared. Our peace was shattered from time to time by Habibi, who with his watchful eye spied a cat on the roof and literally tried to scale the wall, while using his biggest voice. Cat's enjoy this, taunting from a safe place, smiling down on their distraught prey.
Night fell upon us and it was time to say adios until another day. Kathleen and I begin our one week intensive of 'Intuitive Painting' at the Instituto on Monday. Should be a very interesting week. I'll keep you informed.
“Poetry is the music of the soul, and, above all, of great and feeling souls.” ~ Voltaire quotes
