It cooled enough

It's amazing what difference a weather change makes.  Opening the doors and windows to the outside world, even listening to distant traffic noises, helps me feel connected to the world, to consider what's next, and then, only then, what's next again.

It cooled enough

To turn off the artificial air,

Open the windows and doors,

Listen to the outside sounds,

Consider again the birds

In the backyard,

Listen to the distant cars

On the Elgin-O’Hare

Which goes neither

To Elgin

Nor to the airport

Instead it offers

A convenient shortcut

To the doctor’s office

In Hanover Park.

It cooled enough

To consider what’s next,

And then,

What’s next again.

Oh so fine

Lunch this week with friends.  They asked questions I could not answer.  I am aware that I am in the midst of reclamation of things I had put aside for some time, and subtraction of things somehow extraneous.  Perhaps I have always been doing this.  Perhaps this is a piece of what it means to be human.  I rather like that thought.  Perhaps I have been doing what I was called to do all along.

Doors and windows wide open

The world intrudes

Cardinals

Dogs

Trains

The occasional airplane

Overhead

Distant cars from the Elgin-O’Hare:

It originates

In neither place.

Doors and windows open

The breeze blows through

Slightly chilly but oh

So fine.

I claim back

What I must,

Continue subtraction of all

With no internal sense

Or sensibility

Until what remains is clear

Then

Clearer still.

It blows through

Slightly chilly, yes,

But oh

So fine.

Upper room

Meditation before church on Thomas Sunday.

Without closed doors
The miracle might never
Have been noted.

Yellow-bellied sapsucker

This is definitely not the way to watch birds.

We took pains

With the sliding glass doors

In the back.

Each one is gridded

Into fifteen sections

So the birds

Do not mistake them

For sky.

We took pains

Yet still

This morning

A bird

Knocked himself out

On a door.

We think the sun

Got in his eyes.

He lay there panting

Long enough

For us to get the rescue box,

Look him over,

Then he flew:

A yellow-bellied sapsucker!

We have not seen one

In years.

Now we have.

Empty chair

My beloved and daughter are doing nursery duty this morning.  We all attended the 9 AM service.  I wait for them.  I write sitting in the place my clients sit, consider the scenery from here.  I remember what I learned in school of the gestalt empty chair technique.  This morning I prefer to leave the chair empty, consider what my clients see.  God Himself is with us...they sing upstairs.  I leave the door and window open, watch the latecomers slide in... late.

I sit in the place

My clients sit.

One difference is

My chair is empty.

Still the window is open

To the outside;

The door is open

To the hallway.

I sit

Where my clients sit.

I see different things,

Hear the service begin

Above me.

God Himself is with us

The people sing.

I hear nursery noises

Down the hall,

Watch the latecomers slide in

Through the back door.

I sit

Where my clients sit

Every week.

I consider the view

From here.

Behind the scenes

I am sitting in my office underneath the nave during the main Sunday service.  My door is open so I can see what goes on behind the scenes.  I think I will do this again.  There is a lot that happens backstage.

Behind the scenes

And underneath,

I sit in my office.

I am available

For whoever walks by

While my husband and daughter

Share nursery duty.

My door is open.

I am

Behind the scenes

And underneath.

I hear the service

Through the downstairs speaker,

Watch the last minute acolyte

Robe up.

She will sneak in

From the side.

Behind the scenes

And underneath,

I attended the early service

Today.

I am available for all comers

Now.

Glimmer

So.  There*s this vimeo by Ira Glass about the creative process.  It feels deeply true.  Not just for writers, or artists or the named/unnamed creative folk... you know, the ones who claim creativity as their life*s work.  No.  It seems true for all of us, working and practicing to get it more right, whatever it is.  Here it is:  

http://vimeo.com/24715531

I find it simple.  And brilliant.

Now

I sit with people

One by one

By one.

They sit with me

Too.

We teach each other

To listen,

Then listen some more.

Sometimes,

Really only sometimes,

A door or window

Cracks open

And we can ease it open

A little more,

Until we can see

What*s inside,

A glimmer

Of what*s inside.

Or a perhaps a glimmer

Of what*s outside.

Open doors and windows

Almost three weeks since a wonderful job interview but no news.  So I called to find out.  I had pretty much figured the answer was no.  My interviewer answered the phone... herself.  Even though HR was supposed to contact me... they didn*t.  This is not a new experience.  I could have let the door stay closed.  I have done that before.   I counseled a client this week to open the door of the literal room he needs to paint, so he could see it when he passes by, and not pretend it wasn*t there.  
We all have such closed doors.  Sometimes we have closed windows. 

Never know what you*ll see

When you open those doors

Or windows:

Literal doors and windows

Or even

The figurative ones.

Never know what will

Blow through:

Soft spring breezes

Gale force winds.

It is much neater

To keep them closed.

The furniture stays upright.

Rain doesn*t blow in.

Things stay dry.

It is so much neater

To keep the doors and windows closed.

Never know what you*ll see

With open windows,

Open doors.

Locked doors

I am in my office listening to the compressor on the drinking fountain.  Everyone has gone home for the day, except me.  It*s the later afternoon window before the evening activities begin... choir practice, Zumba, ESL, and AA.  I have a client tonight.  Actually, I enjoy the quiet.  It allows me to consider what I might do outside these walls.  This has been a week in which nothing has gone as planned.  Still... things have happened... some rather dramatic... if I can only sit still long enough to wrap my mind around them...

Different days I sit

In different places.

I consider service

Outside the church walls

Even as I sit within,

Sit in the office,

Half underground

Half above.

My consciousness slides up and down

With the barometer.

Snow is surely on its way.

I am the only one

In this big church building.

The doors are locked.

Nothing I planned this week

Has emerged the way

I thought it would.

All the doors are locked

For safety*s sake.

I know Jesus passes through

Locked doors

And out again.

I consider service

Outside the church walls.

Front door

It seems we made a good door choice.  The installer approves.  Indeed, he more than approves... this morning he waxed poetic.  He made a point to remind us that it was our choice, and we had made a good choice.  More on the options theme... even in the choice of doors.

The new front door

Is in place,

The threshold

No longer cracked,

One more step taken

In home renovation.

It all began

With the bathroom upstairs.

Before that

The leak in the roof.

And now

The new red front door.

The door installer

Waxed poetic

About our choice

In doors.

We encounter poetry

Everywhere.

Door week

I christen this: Door Week.  We had an absence of contractors recently while we waited for everything we ordered to arrive.  Things are wearing thin on the humans in this space.  The cat and turtle, on the other hand, seem fine.

Of all of us

The cat seems best

At making every space

His own.

Of course the turtle

May have him beat.

His glass tank has not changed

With the renovation.

The construction guys

Return tomorrow.

This week

 Is door week.

This week (perhaps)(we*ll see)

They replace all the doors

On the back of the house,

The front door,

And even

Our shower door.

It has been leaned against

The dining room table

For three weeks.

We ordered it special

With rain glass.

Still the turtle

And the cat

Close behind,

They weather this

Like troopers.