and this, sisterbrother, is for you

Today, March 9, this blog becomes four years old.
This post first appeared here in August 2010,
titled, “this is for those of us who weep.”

Thunderbird with Inner Spirit, Norval Morrisseau, c. 1978

This is for those of us who weep,
Whose tears hasten the blush of new blooms
For the young ones, the elders, for all our relations
For the pain that punctuates this planet we call Home
For the slings and arrows that have pierced us time and again and again
Yet will never breach our deepest reservoirs of compassion,
This is for us.

This is for those of us who feel,
For whom shuttering cracked and wounded hearts is not an option
We who will not go meekly into the dark night
Will neither squander our light for the sake of a transient comfort
Nor cloak ourselves in intellectual posturing and mental whirligigging,
For those of us whose feelings guide our most authentic actions,
For whom sadness and joy, disheartenment and elation
Join in a riotous dance of color and sound!
Here are bouquets, roses red, aromatic.

This is for those of us who stand steadfast
When it would be so easy and popular to cave to a lesser ideal,
Judgment and condemnation turn aside so many others
Hesitant, they shirk the Divine imperative,
Buckle under and grasp for the quick and easy
Still, even in the face of direct and unrelenting harassment
by forces seen and unseen

There are those who elect to strengthen our trust in original knowings
Recommit our search for the connate truth
And for you, these words tumble forth.

For those of us who stumble along the way
Who know that surrender is an act of uncompromising strength
Who slog through temporary crises of faith and moments of doubt
quickly overturned,

We who place the universally approved happy face on the shelf
and don the passing countenance of deep desolation,
Refusing to play the consensual game of productivity at all costs:
This is for us.

For you, who carry your strength within a soft and gentle bearing
Who do not anoint fear as your leader
Who give every day to your Creator in ways large and small
Who find unabashed pleasure wherever you may
And live life as the gift that it is,
Be you gladsome or weeping, you are never alone
And this, sisterbrother,
is for you.

10 thoughts

  1. Doug,
    It’s wonderful to think that you would leave Be Whole Now feeling nourished. It is, indeed, a buffet for the soul.

    Thank you for finding your way here. I visited your blog, which is radiantly lovely inside and out. As long as we are talking about feasting for the soul, I encourage anyone reading this to go on over and explore Kristina’s material on Soul Conscious Eating. Beautifully done!


  2. thank you, rachel, and i am finding more than a crumb of solace here. i haven’t explored too far yet, but i have a feeling there are feasts provided here, for those who seek them …


  3. Andrea,
    Thank you for the reblog. I visited your site. Wish you were close by!

    Why am I not surprised that you would resonate so powerfully with the energy and sentiments of this post? Thank you for sharing so honestly and openly. xoxoxox

    Yes, our numbers are expanding quickly and widely now. Some of us have been waiting a very long time for what now appears to literally be upon the Earth’s doorstep. xoxoxox

    Please accept my most tender feelings around the loss of your beloved Traci. Your blog is so authentic and true, like the fine woman you were blessed to share your life with for an all-too-short period. Clearly, your love will shine through the heavens for eternity. It pleases me greatly that you found even a crumb of solace here at Be Whole Now. (((())))

    So nice to see your smiling face here. Blessings on you and yours as we begin to feel the stirrings of Spring. xoxoxox

    Your writings (and the SoulCollage process that inspired them) around your experience with breast cancer (and subsequent closure) are so very rich in feeling and depth. Your blog is a soothing respite for all who visit.


  4. I enjoyed this piece Rachel and found it inspiring as well as wonderful. There is a presence of compassion expressed here that really shines through. Bravo!


  5. A beautiful gift, this poem. “You’re not alone” is the most important lesson i’m learning on my grief journey, and it helps to hear that message once again.


  6. Dear sistr you tell my story in this poem, as I type this the tears roll down my cheeks to know I am not alone. Be that what it may, you are my sister in the joys and the pain. I love you dear one as I now love myself, for we never gave up or gave in. We always got up again to wipe the the blood and the mud from our faces to stumble along and alone again until we walked head up into the sun together. xoxo


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