A Lovely Day

I'm curious. 

You are everywhere,  
  but sometimes I don't notice. 
You speak to me in many ways, 
  but I get caught up in thought 
and forget to listen.

Do you take it personally 
when I leave you out of my social circles 
and go on as if you aren't here?

Ah, yes, that's right. 
     You are impossible to miss!  
My every thought and action is yours. 
     You are all there is. 

Well, then, 
let's have a lovely day together. 


Carol Barrow
February, 2017

Blessings

What blessings, 
these moments 
when I stop my busyness 
and invite you to visit. 

What? 
    You are always here? 
           How is it I don't notice? 

Right now, your touch is sweeter 
than the most enticing thoughts 
that could come my way. Let's 
stop all this talk and 
lie in each other's arms. 

Oh! I want to do this more often! 



Carol Barrow
February, 2017

Last Night

Last night I held you. It was

as if I were holding nothing. That

 may sound crazy — some would say

it's an insult — but I loved your

lightness, your lack of need to be

something staking a claim to my

somethingness. In your nothingness,

you invite me. And I accept your

invitation. I want to fall into

your silent space, to be the ease

that is you, that is me before this

story I just thought up.

Carol Barrow
Feb, 2017

Remembering

Oh, how I can count on You.

            You are the light

that breaks the darkness,

and the darkness that woos me into rest.

            Your love is the only constant

on which I can rely.

            I hear you've been doing this

for millennia. So how is it that

            I am able to forget You

                        for even a moment,

when each day all I need

is given me as if I were

the most celebrated queen?

           

Thank you, my love,

            for each heartbeat,

                        the air that gives this body life,

                                    the sun that grows us all,

                                                and water to quench our thirst.

            Most of all, thank You

for Love from which Life comes.

            I am because You are.



Carol Barrow
Feb, 2017

Beloved

A short while ago, I realized that it wasn't long after waking each morning before I would remember the state of our country, then I would feel a heavy sense of dread. This dread — or something like it — is a common feeling for many of us these days. But it isn't useful to dwell there every moment (maybe not at all), and it doesn't help the larger situation when we are in a place that is quiet and safe but we continue to be on high alert.

So each morning I have begun having conversations with God (or whatever you want to call her — I sometimes use the name "Beloved"). I write these conversations down, and I am going to start posting them here. They may not be helpful for anyone but me. My only hope is that, if you find yourself feeling the heaviness, maybe you will discover a practice to help you to stay light and clear at this time when we so need light and clarity.

Here is my conversation from Day One:


Beloved, I wake early,
and look around. You 
are nowhere to be found. I 
pull the covers over my head. 
The world is too dangerous 
without you.
In here alone, beneath the warmth
of blankets, all is still.
What? Is that you, Beloved? 
Ahhh. 
I feel your breath
breathing me, 
your stillness is my joy.
Silly you for hiding
in the last place I'd ever look!


Carol Barrow,
Feb, 2017

Taking a Gander at Thought, Goose, and Gander

With lights turned low, music turned high, they danced, each of them carried by a current of sound. She closed her eyes and released any resistance, letting arms, spine, hips, and legs be owned by God's breath. Nothing else was happening.

Suddenly his voice entered the current, and instead of just floating past and letting it be, she stopped in an eddy of thought. "How dare he interrupt this flow?"

Turning to him, she admitted, "I don't like my thoughts when you talk." That honest moment dispelled clouds of judgment. The sky broke open in laughter.

***

With the sun hanging low, silence turned high, they walked the streets, each of them pulled by dogs with leashes of purple or green. She released any resistance, letting arms, spine, hips, and legs be owned by God's breath. Nothing else was happening.

Suddenly the sound of goose debates entered the scene, getting louder and louder. She stopped to watch, her head falling back to view feathered underbellies moving through the blue sky above.

Turning to him, she offered, "Birds, like thoughts, move through spaciousness, never hanging around, just here for a moment. I'm so very grateful for that for if it weren't so, we would all be hidden in layers of worn-out thoughts and the shit of goose and gander.



Carol Barrow
February, 2017