Same stories

I wonder about Jesus and all the stories he told. Did his disciples listen to the birds instead? When he said "Consider the lilies"... Did they get lost in considering the lilies and miss the rest of the story?

A friend shares the same stories

Time and again

Oh that one

I think

Oh that one

Again.

Too often I tune my ears

To hear the cardinals

Or even the hum

Of the air conditioner

Instead.

Sometimes I waken

At the tail end

Of that familiar story.

I think

Now that

That

Is so appropriate,

The perfect illustration.

That is the exact right story

For this situation.

I wish I’d heard it again

From the very beginning.

Hear me out

Hmm. I had settled into a potential two seizures per year. Not bad, I thought. Not bad. Particularly with a one or two hour lead-in. I can list a wealth of potential triggers. Hear me out, says the neurologist, Hear me out.

Hear me out,

I say to the brain doctor.

Hear me out,

He replies.

We,

Both of us,

Listen.

The idea,

Apparently,

Is to have

No seizures at all.

The idea is to live in the world

As it is

Barometric pressure

And lighting

Notwithstanding.

Hear me out,

He says.

Hear me out,

I say.

I do.

He does.

I figure,

Like all doctors,

His goal is for me

To live forever,

Seizure-free,

Even perhaps,

Dancing in the rain.

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.

Filled with people

I am an introvert.  This will come as no surprise to those who know me.  This week is filled with new people.    We host a French exchange student this week and next.  I have four new clients this week, and a new support group to lead.  It is Wednesday morning with nothing scheduled.  The French student is in Springfield with the group.  My daughter returns home at noon.  I hear the birds outside.  I do not have to do anything with the birds except listen to them.  Just listen.

This week is completely filled

With new people.

French people.

American people.

Some are even written down  

On my calendar

For appointments.

All week

New people.

A potluck with exchange students,

Exchange families.

A high school reception

For National Honor Society,

Everyone takes numerous pictures.

We forgot to bring a camera.

We did find our wedding pictures

When we cleaned the room

For the exchange student.

The house holds extra people

When I return home.

I have the blank space,

The blessedly blank space,

Of a nothing-scheduled

Wednesday morning

Before I meet with two new clients

This afternoon.

I hear the birds outside.

I hear the birds

Outside.

I am inside,

In blessedly blank space.

For now.

Exercising options

Twenty-plus years... I am a slow study, it seems, at exercising options with my beloved*s extended family.  This year is different.  When my vision goes blurry, it is time to retire to my chair in the bedroom, close the door.  I will help with dinner, maybe read more of my book on listening, rather than expecting others to listen to me.  That is not the score for this week.  This week I can help with dinner.  There will be other times for other things.

I am exercising

Options.

The corner chair

In our bedroom

Is refuge

From the post-breakfast conversation

At 1:15 in the afternoon.

Twenty plus years:

I have finally learned

To exercise

Options.

Finally I have found the space

I can see

I can breathe.

I can help with dinner.

I can live in this space

For the time being,

Listen on the edges

To voices raised.

I can help with dinner.

Listening outside the mirrored door

I am reading Seven Thousand Ways to Listen by Mark Nepo.  No, there are not seven thousand chapters.  Today I am on to Listening to all that is not said.  This is a very verbal family.  Very verbal.  I will have to work hard to find the spaces to hear around the words.  Then again, maybe not.  There are always unsaid things.

I listen from my corner

Of the bedroom.

The mirrored door is angled

So I can see anyone

In the hallway,

But they

Can*t see me.

This

Is a perfect arrangement.

I may as well

Be on the moon

But the moon

Wouldn*t let me listen.

I understand the sound

Would be lost

In outer space.

I read a book on listening

Small snippets

With questions at the end

Of every short chapter,

Questions which suggest

Ways to meditate.

Instead I apply each chapter

To what I hear

Outside the mirrored door

Acupuncture: Learnings: a beginning

It occurs to me as I reflect on yesterday*s experience... this may be part of what I do in preparation for the pilgrimage to Iona next month.  Acupuncture is a completely new experience for me, though there is resonance to what I do as a priest and as a therapist.   And... I will probably get a white noise machine for my office next to the nursery school.

First off:

Attention is paid

To different things.

There is more space here

In this tiny office

At the back of a hair salon.

The chairs we sit in

Are exactly the same.

The white noise machine

Covers over the sounds

Of the aesthetician next door.

Now I know

What an aesthetician does.

The needles don*t really hurt.

The whole time I am flat on my back,

Knees raised,

The acupuncturist pays attention

To my body,

To what she hears

Or sees.

She tells me

At the end.

As I walk back to my office,

I remember the woman at the well,

Jesus telling her

Everything she had ever done.

I am suddenly

The woman at the well.

My vision is clearer.