This morning I told Tyler that I did not feel well. Something was just not right. As we talked, I said, "This feels like mourning." Well, then I realized that would not be surprising. The beloved dog has been ill and we were up very early with him this morning. We were all tired. The country is jangling with fear and anger. The kitchen needs cleaning. What creativity I have seems elusive and is not bailing me out.
So, I was grateful to receive this morning's post from First Sip. I have found healing and encouragement in other poems by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer. I am now breathing a little more deeply.
Yes, let us try to quiet some of the jangling. Yes, the beloved dog is getting expensively better. And yes, just after I post this, I will try once more to get the kitchen cleaned. My dentist's office manager told me this morning that they will be happy to see me. Oddly enough, I believe her. I am getting better about crossing that threshold.
Friends, I am certain we all are experiencing some level of PTSD. Remember to take good care, talk to friends and loving family members, a therapist, maybe even a pastor! Look for the blessings, for they are there. Do give your dog or cat a big hug. In these jangly days they are working overtime. So is God.
Yes, I do believe.
Manifesto
And if we can’t save the world,
and who says we can’t, then
let us try anyway. Perhaps
we have no superhuman powers—
can’t see through buildings,
can’t fly, can’t bend the bars of cages—
but we have human powers—
can listen, can stand up to,
can stand up for, can cradle.
And if we can’t imagine
a world of peace, and who
says we can’t, then let us
try anyway. Perhaps we start
tonight—on a Wednesday.
Thursday works, too. Or Friday.
Doesn’t much matter the day.
All that matters is the choice
to meet this moment exactly
as it is, with no dream of being
anyone else but our flawed
and fabulous very self—
and then, wholly present,
bringing this self to the world,
touching again and again what is true.
What if we do? And if we can’t
save ourselves, and who
says we can’t, let’s try anyway.
There was a time I thought
I could never be healed. That
was only because it hadn’t happened yet,
so I decided it wasn’t possible.
Healing happened anyway.
What have we decided isn’t possible?
What if we stopped believing
that limit? What if, right now,
we used our human powers
of compassion, clarity, gratitude,
praise? What if we did it together—
opened all those closed doors inside
us? What if we let the opening do
what opening does?
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