Super Moon, Season Change, and Silent Vows

Super moon: St Michael's Tower on Glastonbury Tor, Somerset (This photo from England conveys similiar shadow & moon contrast visible in Alaska.)

Visiting friends on Friday night, the nearly full moon hovered in a pink tinged sky, rising over iced, frozen chunks of the Kenai River, Alaska. In contrast, Saturday night was already shadowless dark as  I waited for the Super moon to shine. I gasped when the entire horizon of Kenai Mountain peaks became a silhouette, and Super moon hugged the landscape luminous.

There are a hundred things I could write about–wanted to write about–on the eve of the Vernal Equinox. Alaska gains five to six minutes of light, every day. My mind was like a gumball machine. However, tears had blanketed my face earlier, as had laughter when I saw my true reflection in the mirror. I had no more words, and simply desired to lean into the liquid silence of the night, beauty unfolding peace in a time of fierce change, for me personally, and throughout our planet.

Super moon rose so gracefully as earth orbited in dance. The rhythm of David Whyte’s poetry from earlier that day breathed in me. Gazing through tall windows into the wintry landscape, I spontaneously slipped out of my sheepskin slippers, moving into flowing Qigong practice, facing darkness, within and without, illuminated by moonlight. My silence became a prayer of sorts.

Thank you Super moon, and thank you David Whyte–your poems evoke a fierce conversation within me. I welcome the season of Lent–Vernal Equinox–spring, and all the true vows. Amen.

ALL THE TRUE VOWS

All the true vows
are secret vows.
the ones we speak out loud
are the ones we break.

There is only one life
you can call your own
and a thousand others
you can call by any name you want.

Hold to the truth you make
every day with your own body,
don’t turn your face away.

Hold to your own truth
at the center of the image
you were born with.

Those who do not understand
their destiny will never understand
the friends they have made,
nor the work they have chosen,

nor the one life that waits
beyond all the others.

By the lake in the wood,
in the shadows,
you can
whisper that truth
to the quiet reflection
you see in the water.

Whatever you hear from
the water, remember,

it wants to carry
the sound of its truth on your lips.

Remember,
in this place
no one can hear you

and out of the silence
you can make a promise
it will kill you to break,

that way you’ll find
what is real and what is not.

I know what I am saying.
Time almost forsook me
and I looked again.

Seeing my reflection
I broke a promise
and spoke
for the first time
after all these years

in my own voice,

before it was too late
to turn my face again.

– David Whyte, River Flow: New and Selected Poems,  House of Belonging, and the CD of poems and music, Return

Have you experienced poetry or nature teaching and guiding you … communicating that for which you may have no words, yet?
Do you have a favorite poem or poet? A place in nature where you come home to yourself in your own skin?

The Next Best Step

I’m standing at a crossroad in my life. Whenever I encounter times like this I try to remember to stop and breathe deeply, noticing where my attention is focused. Occasionally I am surprised, and receive immediate guidance to move forward. At other times, I discover that I really am stuck by not-knowing, fear, uncertainty, or the knowledge the best next step isn’t clear–or it isn’t time to be made, just yet.

In his book Getting Things Done, David Allen quotes Will Rogers: “When you find yourself in a whole, stop digging.” I think this is valuable advice! Too often I dig around for all sorts of solutions and future scenarios, instead of being patient and willing to dwell in the “both and” of the here and now allowing something else to emerge. Maybe even something I never could have anticipated.

So, those pesky crossroad times. How do we discover the courage to step beyond our own comfort zone, and respond yes to someone, something, or some purpose? I think it is probable that the relationships we cultivate can provide a greater understanding of our purpose and action in the world. I know I see the hunger and pain in the world and this affects me, and moves my heart of compassion. But how do we know—with authenticity and integrity—when a response is called forth or required from us? And, what is the valuable role of waiting, or even of resistance?

The poet David Whyte offers guidance to slow down in his poem “Start Close In” with these words:

“Start close in,
don’t take the second step
or the third,
start with the first
thing
close in,
the step
you don’t want to take.”

Maybe at this particular crossroads, my “first thing” close in, my step I “don’t want to take” is to stand still just a little longer, and resist the impulse for action. I need to stop digging for the second or third best step, and just be still. I can pay attention to the wisdom of my body–where I feel expansion and contraction. During times like this, I really appreciate talking with trusted friends, and meeting with my spiritual director.

How about you?
Is there crossroad you face in your life? Perhaps it’s a major decision, or even something that to someone else might seem insignificant. Could it be that a dose of stillness, deep breathing, and paying attention to the relationships you cultivate might offer you some guidance? What is the step you don’t want to take?

The Next Best Step Posted by PeggeBernecker at 3/29/2009 3:33 PM CDT      http://www.chron.com/channel/houstonbelief/commons/searching.html