Journey of the Heart

Lately, I have been consciously trying to spend more moments simply being in mindful awareness… I’ve also been consciously making more time for creativity. The other morning those two intentions collided leaving me with a strange dilemma. Thinking to practice some mindful awareness, I opened our back door and gazed out at the dove gray sky, emptying my mind and breathing myself into presence. The universe must have been feeling playful, because within minutes a murder of crows was raucously diving around that sky in full-throated caw. No matter, I thought and continued breathing. Then the words “my day begins with crow dance” floated into my mind with that tantalizing tingle I know means there are more words to come.   And, so, I was left with the dilemma. Pursue the poem, or risk losing it and stay in mindful presence? I chose mindful presence. The Universe chuckled and gifted me with the poem later that day.  Ravens by Emi Fujimoto Legacy by Tracie Nich...

Awhile ago, I wrote a poem about  Certainty  -mainly other people’s certainty... I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being certain, or feeling certain. Sometimes, it’s what keeps us going. The certainty that we love and are loved, the certainty that there’s hope for the future, that we can “do this” - whatever “this” might be. I’ve come to realize, though, that certainty is only a good thing for us and everyone around us, if we’re prepared to adjust our certainties  honestly, according to our  experiences and to new evidence. To live lightly, as well as deeply. Not to grasp our precious certainties and cling to them, as though they are what define reality, and our place in it, but to hold them as we’d hold an exquisite jewel - observing them from all angles and recognising the places where we’ve understood them wrongly. I feel as though my journey has been a migration from a grasping, panicking certainty - a place where, if my certainties were proven...

I’m preparing a book on spiritual themes, and thought I’d concentrate on dark versus light… While on retreat at Omega Institute at Blue Spirit in Nosara, Costa Rica, I noticed the light and dark of the leaves as I was gazing out of the window during a writing session. This led me to the second stanza of the poem below and the notion that light has many different meanings, spiritually and physically.  The third stanza compares the light of each season and how my preference is the clarity of spring light, as close to heaven as I imagine it to be. Much of my writing is guided by the strong belief in an afterlife that is more real and more perfect than anything we can imagine, and my belief that we can rarely glimpse it here on earth, but that a beautiful sunset, garden, butterfly hints at the possibilities and beauty to be seen in the life beyond. Illumination by Mary L. Westcott I’m attracted to light, not the dark under shadow on the leaves, the ferns hidi...

One morning a few weeks ago everything I read felt like an assault to me... There were thoughtless, strident voices shouting narrow-minded opinions, condemning dissenting voices, and venting outrage. Women had forgotten their place. Black people were claiming their lives mattered. Impoverished people thinking they should have a way out of poverty. People claiming this planet was more than a resource to be plundered.  It felt like the “isms” were winning by their sheer volume, and I felt my optimism and compassion faltering. So, I let the words spill out... Damn the Proof  by Tracie  Nichols i'm not a shouter or a marcher more gentle anarchist motherly revolutionary despite my  steadfastness there are days I think the "-isms" are winning days I wake up to find someone  has filled  my pericardium with molten lead and encased all but my eyes  in concrete "the better to  feel helples...