So I Hear

By Glenda | September 4, 2009

Held together by a shoestring.
Mama’s expression. String’s frayed.
Or duck tape. Coming unglued.
Hanging by a thread. Unraveling.
Over an abyss. Don’t look now.
It’s a war zone. All too much.

Everybody, it seems, is having
themselves a nervous breakdown.
A collective short circuit’s going on.
Sparks flying. Metaphysical
explanations everywhere you turn,
but the guru’s are baffled,
and the experts, they all got fired.
Metaphors abound. But it’s about
as real as it gets, don’t kid yourself.

Ok. Here’s what I have to do.
Go lie on the earth. A long time.
Watch. And listen up.

A hawk, high, on the wind, singing,
while, close by, an iridescent humming bird
shares the air with fourteen vibrant butterflies,
count them, all in love with vivid color.
A light breeze gently stirs the near leaves
and then moves on, there, and then there,
see how it moves, invisible, but real.
The purple morning glory blossom
swoons with the weight of a bumble bee,
drunk with nectar, now taking a nap
there in the lap of plentiful luxury.
The heavy morning dew dripping
from the eve of the house was enough,
miraculously, to awaken the rare
rain lily, despite the drought.

But, inside my head, there it goes again,
they say, we say, again, and again, it’s all
happening at the zoo, what, what,
it’s a zoo, it’s a jungle, it’s a war,
it’s a nightmare, it’s a meltdown,
it’s a recession, it’s my depression,
it’s me, it’s you, it’s them, it’s us.
Always has been. Never will be.

Please! Time out, out there, in here!
Give it a rest. Let me, let us, lighten up.
I, you, we must do something ridiculous.
Tickle a kitten, say, or a baby, gently,
or let that chubby toddler climb over the top
of me while I unresist. Babies and cats
are unconcerned about the evening news.
We all can be too, just for now, just for today,
just until we rest, until we rest.

Remember (another voice, heard faintly, sacred),
those freshly planted seeds you said prayers over,
yesterday, as you knelt there, hands full of rich garden soil,
whispering secret love and encouragement, those seeds now
are simply settling in, quietly waiting, for a cooler day,
more hospitable, a little rain, a break from the heat, and then
they’ll sprout, you’ll see. But for now, they’ll just lie still.
No rush. Take a lesson from the seeds.

So. Go watch a sunset or a luminescent moonrise,
maybe over water, preferably somewhere remote.
Or make love. Or eat strawberries with cream,
or mangoes. Sing, for god’s sake. Or at least hum,
right there in the elevator or on the street.
Try this. Look that total stranger in the eye and see
if your smile muscles still work. And do, please do,
just for awhile, forget the rules, the requirements,
the absolute necessities, the job, the work, the fear,
the grief, the shame, the sorrow, the worry, the anger,
all of it, for ten seconds, twenty maybe, let it all go.
Do, or don’t do, whatever. Life is short.
Manage, somehow, to enjoy.

Metaphors abound.
But here’s the thing.
You too can rebound.
But first, sit down.
Quiet is helpful.
An old friend is too.
A good book to read.
Music that soothes,
calms, centers.
All that.

There’s no danger
that you’ll forget
the worst, so it’s safe
and essential that you
remember to remember
the best, the best,
how good it all is.
It is. It really is.
Also. Always.
Ok. Ok.

6 comments | Add One

  1. MaryElizabeth - 09/4/2009 at 9:19 am

    Thank you, LH. This is wonderful!

  2. Carol - 09/4/2009 at 12:22 pm

    Wow! Wow! I will read this many times over and over … Right now, busy thinking of all the folks I want to share it with !!
    Thank you Miss Glenda, Little Hawk, for listening, and sharing … OOdles of love, Carol

  3. LindaBear - 09/4/2009 at 3:32 pm

    thank you sooooooo much. just BE.

  4. Denbie Nash - 09/4/2009 at 7:05 pm

    YES Glenda! This is beautiful, true and profound. Thank you for the blessing of it. I want to share it with others and read it often again myself. thank you.

  5. marilyn - 09/4/2009 at 8:50 pm

    Oh, this DID lighten up my day and heart. Thank you for sharing and thank the heavens for your talent.

  6. Jim - 10/4/2009 at 9:57 am

    On the other hand, there is a whisper that carries on the wind in the natural heritage of the splendid outdoors, giving a deja vu sense that hints at a presence of common ancestral recollection challenging the memory like the forgotten name of a familiar face. It breaks the spell of the collective amnesia that disconnects us from nature. It is a voice that mourns and warns of a progressive deafness caused by the treacherous “white sound” of greed and power, and it suggests that the lament may be heard too late to matter for the inhabitants of the inhospitable and irreversible landscapes of future consequences.

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