Roller Derby

I almost didn't post this.  But hey, here it is.  I think we are, all of us, several people.  The idea is to get everyone together, on one team.

I am peopled by bitches

With short Roller Derby names:

Gert

Flo

Pru

Ang

They demand to be called

By their shortened names

So they will be named out loud

More often,

Held and cherished

And part of me.

Gert is my Depression:

The black dog with her red spiked collar.

Flo:

She Who Must be Indulged

She will take some time

To love

But love her I will.

Pru:

The Small One Who Must be Heard

She has been waiting for years

With bows in her hair.

Ang is my Anxiety:

The pit bull:

She goes for the jugular

With even imagined threat

So I may lay even lower.

I am peopled by bitches

With Roller Derby names.

They are part of my team.

There is no “I”

In team.

There is only we,

All of us together

A pack of bitches.

We demand

To be recognized.

Stay here

Sometimes I become wed to the notion of moving along because it seems I should be moving.  I can't figure out what good staying here will do.  It seems lately, when I don't listen, I am brought to my knees, put in my place.  OK.  Here I am.  For as long as it takes.

Just when I think

It’s ok to move along now

I hear

No

Stay here.

When I try

To move along anyway

I am brought to my knees,

Learn the next step

Is one step back

Now hold.

Now

Hold some more.

No

Stay here

For now.

Now will last as long

As it needs to.

Just as long

As it needs to.

Scratch

There are so many things that tempt my creative nature.  I have started things, even churches, and watched them grow and die, only to become ground for something else.  Sometimes I can't see that "something else"  but still I know it's there.  Churches, and even life, are not meant to be grasped and held.  My daughter attended a great new church in Denver.  What a wonderful thing it would be to plant a church... she thinks.  Me too.  Still... me too.  I am reminded again... me too.

I have reached the stage

In my life

I realize

I will never start a church

From scratch.

Scratch never made

A good beginning anyway.

Nothing

After all

Begins from scratch,

Much less

Much more

Gatherings of people

Who care about one another;

People

Who figure out new ways;

People

Who adopt old ways

To care.

No one

Will ever start a church

From scratch,

Not even me.

After the first

Perspective changes with experience.  After seizure #2 at the halfway house, while in training for substance abuse counseling,  I remember sharing with the men in my group: I am Catharine and I am an epileptic.  Yep, perspective changes, maybe slowly, maybe in fits and starts, but change comes, nonetheless.

After the first seizure,

I tried to bring

Another one on,

Stood on my head,

Cushions all around.

Nothing came.

Four years,

Six seizures on,

I am not so inclined

To lure seizures

From the abyss

Where they live,

Where they sleep.

I would rather

Tuck them in

For a nice long nap.

Mothers' weekend in Denver

It's decided.  She will transfer to Marquette in January.  Closer but not too close.  It looks to be a good thing.

I thought to visit her

For mothers’ weekend

This winter,

Only to find her moving

Closer.

I do not know if the new place

Offers such a thing

As mothers’ weekend in February.

Winter in Milwaukee

Does not hold the same appeal

As

Winter in Denver.

Still

Still

Visits will not require

Airline tickets,

I can keep a picture

Of the Rockies

On my desk

And see her on a whim.

Upright

So.  Much as I would like to be on to other things: Flying, not standing, for example, I am not. Decisions are being made all around me.  I watch them.  This is often what I do, post-seizure.  It is time to re-figure where I fit in the picture.  None of that moving on to the next thing.

I have the urge

To stand like a crane

Or perhaps the heron.

It captures my heart

Standing

Even flying.

I would like to be

That flying exclamation point

Moving on

To the next thing.

Still standing

Is for now

One leg posed

On the other

Still standing

For right now

The one part of yoga

I can do

Upright.

Cure

Since my seizure experience following yoga, I have been doing some research.  It seems meditation triggers seizures in some folk.  Really?  Of course, why would this surprise me?

Meditation

Will not cure everything

That ails you.

Like yoga

It may send you spinning

Into places

Unintended.

Every time we play

With consciousness

We may find ourselves

Somewhere else.

Meditation

Is not the cure-all.

Yoga

Is not the cure-all.

Nothing

Cures everything.

One size

Does not fit all,

Does not cure all,

Does not heal all.

Just when we think

We've found the answer

We find we need

Something else

Entirely.

Wisp of humor

I would have loved this yesterday.  Still, it came today... I am grateful for today.

I woke with a wisp

Of humor

Carried in by the cat,

Laid next to the bed

Like some mouse.

The redbud out the window

Is yellow.

This amuses me

As well.

Grackles fill the trees.

Humor perches

In the yards,

Front and back.

I woke with some humor

A wisp of humor

Carried in by the cat.

Grackle lessons

I had thought that yoga would be a good idea.  Having never done yoga before, I thought a class entitled Yoga for Beginners would be right up my alley.  It seems my brain did not agree with me.  So I am home learning lessons from the grackles, paying attention to the things I already know how to do, perhaps learning to do them better.

I am home

Making different plans.

The grackles gather

First in the back yard,

Then in the front,

Now in the trees.

They plan their trip south.

I am home

Making plans of my own,

Plans to continue doing

What I am doing,

Things that have worked

Up until now.

Change is not always

A good thing.

The grackles,

After all,

Are planning their usual trip

South for the winter

To return again in the spring

As usual.

I am home

Making usual plans

Like the grackles.

I am home

Learning grackle lessons.

Ladybugs

That time of year... ladybugs are in search of warm.

It’s that time

In the fall

Ladybugs land

On the doors and windows.

They feel the chill

In the air,

Know it’s time to find

Warm cracks to hide in.

It’s that time

We find ladybugs

Everywhere.

They wait for spots of warm

To open up,

They know

In their tiny ladybug minds,

Their minuscule ladybug feet,

There is warm

Somewhere.

My best-laid plans

Coffee with a friend this afternoon.  Yeah!  I am back on foot, so she will meet me here in town,  Of course I am reminded again that driving is not what it's all about.

My best-laid plans

Have come un-laid.

There must be other

Things to do

Games to play

Words to be written

Or perhaps it is simply

A walk in the sun,

Coffee with a friend,

Learning once again

I am not in charge.

Pause

It does get easier with time.  My brain takes at least an hour or two before it seizes.  I have learned when I must take it easy.  Pause.  I am gone for the seizure, but there are reminders left behind.  The same questions arise from those who perhaps haven't asked them before: Do they know what causes them? they ask.  I have epilepsy, I say.  

It gives pause:

The coming to

The waking up

The bit tongue

A reminder I have left

And returned.

Pause.

Almost

A re-set button.

Still

I never return

To square one.

I’m not sure anyone

Ever returns

To square one.

Pause.

Here it is again.

One more break

Epilepsy is an odd thing.  Usually I have indicators.  I did this time too.  Who knew Yoga for Beginners would set me up for a seizure?  I thought it would be an easy beginning.  No.  I will skip the next four sessions.

Nothing like waiting an hour

After beginner’s yoga

Before completely

Losing it.

The family has different stories

Of me

In seizure mode.

Now I am back to walking

Surrounded by the fall colors.

The cat is happy

For a lap.

Speed up

Slow down.

Take another break

From driving.

Yoga for beginners

Alas.  Not a good idea.  I guess I need an even slower start.

Yoga for beginners:

It seemed like a good idea

At the time.

Speaking volumes

The usual people spoke way too much.   Others... not so much.  The trees lining our way to and from the meeting spoke volumes.

Mid-afternoon in the gray,

The leaves appear even brighter

Reds and oranges

Even still the greens.

The meeting which often runs late,

Ends early.

No one has much to say.

I wonder if other people’s heads

Contain what I am thinking.

Maybe so.

Perhaps not.

The way home

Bright oranges and reds

On each side of the road,

Speaks volumes.

Application

And here I thought I was applying for jobs...to obtain a job.

I apply for jobs

To learn what’s out there,

Possibilities ringing

Probably endless

But certainly

Not all there is.

Nothing is ever

All there is.

I apply for jobs

It seems

Simply to apply,

Only sometimes it is

To engage in conversation

About

What I might do for you,

What you might do for me,

What we indeed

Might do for each other.

This is more                          

What it’s all about

But certainly

Not all there is.

Nothing is ever

All there is.

Two of three

Funny.  I work with clients around this: All The Time.  Write down the things you were able to do (I say).  Sometimes I even take my own advice.

This weekend

I managed

Two of three things

On the list.

Still oh

The things that happened

In spite of me

Because of me

Outside of me

Inside of me.

The Third Thing still looms.

It will probably be

As easily managed

As Thing One

And Thing Two:

When I get to it.

Off

Still waking up,

I’m “off” in a few moments

To meet the one I will mentor

For confirmation.

Perhaps I’m really off

Most of the time.

I love the English language,

So many definitions

For one simple word.

So many uses

For such a simple word.

How does person

Ever learn to speak

At all?

Oh I will be a challenge

This morning.

Me and my ment-ee

Will trade words

Over something hot to drink.

Maybe I will mostly listen.

Everything begins somewhere

This is for all my Minnesota compatriots.  You all know where the Mississippi really begins.

Everything begins somewhere.

I like to trace things back

To their source.

I stood at the headwaters

To the Mississippi

Pretended I was there,

At the beginning,

Even though the water

Originally came

Up from the earth

Down from the sky.

It is still complete mystery

Where it all began.

The Mississippi is my Minnesota metaphor:

The headwaters at Lake Itasca,

The dividing line between

Minneapolis and St. Paul.

I lift my feet

So they don’t get wet

Every time we drive over the bridge.

The Mississippi is my Minnesota metaphor.

Louisiana has its own interpretation,

As do

All the states between.

Everything begins somewhere.

Kairos

Living in the in-between. Working to let my thoughts be thoughts, and consider implementation later. I'm thinking lentil soup for dinner.

The morning meeting

Exactly an hour

Registered as kairos,

Merged into rest-of-the-day thoughts

How and who and where

I might engage

Or be engaged.

This is not

As I imagined.

So much remains

To be seen;

So much

Remains

To be considered,

And yet

Time stretches

Like a rubber band

Kairos:

What will be,

Will be.

What will come,

Will come.

It will all take

As long as it takes.

Kairos.

If I still counted hours

For a friend who knows who she is.  Time with you is most always kairos.

If I still counted hours

Lunch last week

Would have counted

For two,

Maybe even three or four.

Sometimes things count

More than simply

Chronologically.

Now I am off

For an hour meeting,

Chronos

Or Kairos

Remains to be experienced.

We wait for sun

More lessons from the cat.

He props his head

On the rail of the rocker.

Sometimes we find odd places

To rest our heads,

The cat and I.

Sometimes the morning

Is just too much.

Sometimes it is important to wait

Until the sun is fully out

From behind the clouds,

So we can rest

In the light and the warm.

Eclipse

I missed it.  Or maybe I didn't.

Alas

I missed it.

I know pictures

Don’t do justice

To the real thing.

Still

Last night the moon shone brighter

Than I have ever seen.

When I left church

At 8

The moon lit my path

To the car.

Arriving home,

The moon lit the whole front yard

Tomorrow

I thought

I will write about the moon

The awesomeness 

of the moon.

Hard bits

All is not always lovely, even in my favorite season.  I am working on holding the lovely and the not so lovely... together.

I love Fall.

The season

The leaves

The sunlight angling

Just so,

The contrast of blue

And clouds,

Dark birds migrating south.

I know they will return again.

I do not love to eat

Fall vegetables,

Hard and orange

They must be peeled

And baked

Or boiled.

Someone even figured

How to carve them

Into faces.

Still

Fall is my favorite season

Even

With the difficult bits.

Today is for sifting

Today is a day I reclaimed for myself.  I could have attended Clergy Conference.  It would have been the first time in three or four years.  I have always enjoyed reconnecting with colleagues.  Clergy Conference was always at a very familiar place.  Now it's not.  Nothing wrong with that, just too much new for now.  Maybe next year.  Today is for sifting.

I am not adding

Any more information

To this day.

I am not meeting

Anyone new

Or old,

Unless I count

As old yet new.

Today requires nothing new.

Today is for sifting.

Today is for reclaiming

An order to things.

Today is for finding out

Whether this particular puzzle piece

Is part of the sky,

Part of the landscape,

Or perhaps a piece

Of the edge.

Time

Friday and Saturday were a whirlwind and yet, not.  There was a lot of driving, a lot of discernment, a lot of clarity.  Way more than two days worth, if such things can even be measured.  And now... a plane to catch.

Some days feel

Like a week’s worth of living

All at once.

Chronos

Settles to kairos.

Time gentles down

Until

There is enough time;

There is

All the time in the world

And then some.

And then

There is a plane to catch.

Discernment

Wow.   Two college visits, one day after another.  One so right, and the other signed, sealed and delivered oh so wrong.  Rarely has discernment been so easy.

How does one visit

Go oh so right, the other

Oh so very wrong?

Clock

Milwaukee today to look at another school.  Then we drove around and looked at things, as is our usual wont.  We got lost... a lot.  But with a clock on every church and public building, we were never at a loss for how long it would be until dark.

There is a clock

On every church

In Milwaukee,

An amazing thing:

This attention

To the time of day.

We got lost several times

But we never lost track

Of what time it was.

Next year

It seemed to be a good conversation.  Then I was left with see you next year.  Maybe that's right, I think, maybe that's right.  Still... it was a good conversation.

I’ll see you

Next year

She says

Even after proclaiming

That people say

They want to get together

But then

Never call.

I’ll see you next year

Though if it’s sooner

That might be o.k. too

She says

Landing it in my lap.

We only live twenty minutes

Apart

O.K.

Next year it is then,

Unless we just happen

To pass each other

On the street,

Just happen to recognize

Each other.

Just happen

To have time for coffee.

Feather

Sometimes a feather is more than a feather.

Before I go in

Four geese practice a vee

In the parking lot

Outside the therapist’s office.

Now at home

I find a feather

Watered red.

It seems a cardinal lost it

For me to find.

On this day when the leaves

Have not yet begun

To turn;

On this day when

The birds mass in the back yard;

On this day when

The geese practice vees

And cardinals leave tokens

Of the coming colors

For me to find.

On this day of all days:

A feather.

Short

I didn't write yesterday morning, so I thought I'd write a short something this morning to get back into the rhythm of things.

A short one today

Before setting off into

This startling sunlit world