what is the sound of silence? (rough draft)

what is the sound of silence?

the gentle thumping of one's heart?

the call of the hawk
traveling through clouds and
miles of blue
to nest
in your ear?

the water dripping
off rosebushes
on to the moss
of my heart?

what is the sound of silence
other than
the slipping of your hand
into mine.

the salt
my tears left
on your skin
slowly drying.

what is the sound of silence?

the peace of no more
the promise of possibility
the trailing whisper
of you.

A little of both in a found poem. For my mom. (A rough draft.)

My mom is on the front steps.

She's been there for two hours my dad says.
She won't move and I don't care anymore.

I say Hello Mom and walk by,
not sure if she knows who I am
though she seems to recognize me
from a deeper place.

Dad's exhausted, I can tell
and angry.
I understand.
I am exhausted and angry too.

She won't get up in the morning he says
and once I get her in the shower she won't come out. 
Or get dressed. 

So goes my dad's day.
Battle after battle after battle
with a woman he still loves
but doesn't know anymore.

I listen to the laundry list of complaints
injustices
hardships.
Offer no suggestions.

I walk to my mom and try to get her up off the steps.
Come on Mom, I whisper,
One, two, three, upsie daisy. 
She rises on legs wobbling like a newborn foal's.

Holding tightly to each other
we shuffle together to her chair.
This is the new mother daughter dance
shuffle, shuffle, pull, pull.
Until we are there
Five feet in five minutes.
Zoom, zoom.


OK Mom, sitting down now, One, two...
She's down on two,
the sneaky devil!

Do you know who I am Mom?
Your daughter, Jessica. 

I imagine she smiles a little
nodding her head.
As she sits there so still
I hold her hand
she doesn't let go.

A Letter to the 2001 Me

An unedited gem from my 2011 journal - a letter to the me of May 2001:
----------------------------------------------------------------------

Dear Jessica circa 2001,

Start meditating now. Go see Amma, get a hug. Begin to cultivate a spiritual practice, right away.

You're a new mom with a gorgeous, bald, four month old baby girl. Try to understand that getting laid off last month was one of the best things that could have happened to you. Don't rush to find a new job - use your unemployment insurance until it runs out.

Write. Write. Write.

You have so many undiscovered talents - if you dig for them, search for them, uncover them, you will not have to wait so long to own them. Better to own what is yours at 33 rather than struggle for the next decade.

Trust me.

Slow down. Sleep when your baby sleeps. Laugh with her. Take your time. Nurture yourself and her. She is going to be a handful, that one, and it is only going to get more and more challenging. Love her. Love yourself.

Stand up for yourself.
Slow down.
Breathe.
Write.
Stretch.
Laugh.
Enjoy what you have been given.
Simplify.
Want less.
Take care of your friends.

Jessica, you must spend time with your mother. Take the time afforded to you now that you have been laid off and spend time with your mom. Do things with her and Maya. Play in the garden, walk to the beach, go to the park.

Write love letters to Maya. Write love letters to yourself. Take writing classes. Learn to love a dirty house. Just take the time. Take up space, gather it like wildflowers. Hoard it. Revel in it. Enjoy this life in this moment because you can't even begin to fathom how it is going to change in the next ten years.

Lives and loves and dear friends will be gone. What you thought was indestructible will be destroyed. What you thought was impossible will be commonplace.

New lives will be born. New smiles and thoughts, different love, deeper love.

You must hold the space within and around you to breathe and recognize what is real and what is not. To honor what is transitory, which really is...everything.

So stop. Breathe. Love. Laugh. Rub your hand over that sweet bald head of Maya's because in ten years time it will be covered in golden ringlets she won't want you to touch and your hands will be full of other hands and things and even if you don't - can't - won't slow down you'll realize how easy things were now, then.

Love,
You.

A Prayer for 2012

A Prayer for What Seems Impossible 2012:

May there be time and space
for contentment to grow.

For sweet, green tendrils of joy
to unravel
like fern fronds in spring.

Let contentment settle
like a seed in the soil.

Let it send its roots
into the Earth
deep enough to give it purchase.

Let the winds of disbelief
and cynicism
be not so strong.

Let not the rain of self-doubt
nor any fickle frost
cause us harm.

Let the warmth of hope
protect us
like a mother does a child

with guidance
and optimism.

- j woods 2011

Found This Poem

in my journal from this year - here is the draft, unedited.
-----------------------------------------------------------

i don't know
if you know this

but i want you
to love me

to hold me
tenderly

like a monk
cradling his
sole possession

a begging bowl
of brass

all he relies upon
for food
for drink

the brass
rubbed to a shine

bright enough
to illuminate

the darkest hours
and last

as many lifetimes
as it needs to.

-j.woods 2011

The Look

The other day I was at The Farm waiting for my mentor to show for a meeting. There was a young man sitting with a much older woman at the table next to me. He looked like her grandson. She was a sweet older woman with white hair cut in a cute bob, parted on the side and held back with bobby pins. She was quietly sitting across from him and though he said a few things to her she didn't respond. Just sat there quietly.

Eventually, what appeared to be her two children, returned to the table. She looked at them with her beautiful blue eyes and as I watched her look at them I recognized the look. She knew she should love them, but she didn't recognize them. Her son gave her a cookie, which she enjoyed, but she didn't really know who he was - this kind man bringing her a cookie and speaking sweetly to her.

It reminded me of my mom, before the Alzheimer's got particularly brutal. She would sit with us, interact as best she could, but you could tell that while she knew she should love us she didn't know who we were to her.

It must be so disconcerting - to one moment know where you are and who you are with and then the next moment feel completely alone and scared.

I miss my mom. I wish I could go back and be more compassionate to her. I wish I could have loved her more. Better.

I hope she knew it was Juniper and I who were with her, holding her hands and stroking her hair, telling her she would be alright when she left this world. I hope she didn't feel alone.

J.

Activity versus Inactivity.: Some thoughts on stillness.

I feel like I have always been busy, or always had so many things I wanted to do, get done, check off my list. I have had this feeling on a daily basis as well as in life in general.

Lately I have slowed down. I am slow. I'm inactive and yet it feels OK.

im not writing
im not going to the gym
i'm not doing anything regularly

im ok resting

This feeling is different.

It still stresses me out a little bit to not be doing, to be inactive in all ways, but it feels right.

I feel like I need to become completely still in order to move forward.

I don't know what that means or what it looks like or what it will look like, but that's how it feels - like I just need to stop spinning in order to move forward with any sort of real direction...even though I don't know what that direction is right now.

So even though it feels counterintuitive and it feels wrong compared to what everybody else is doing and it feels strange it still feels right to just slow down and be still.

so that's what I am aiming for I guess.

at least today.

in stillness,
jessica