Fallen Angel

Early Tuesday morning in the before dawn light,  I’d just made my coffee, turned on the radio to listen, as is my semi-regular practice, to The Road Home, and settled on the sofa to begin writing in my journal.

Circle of Life by Capstone

Circle of Life by Capstone

Listening to Bob weave, with song and spoken word, the morning’s theme of the Great Mandala.  Pen in hand as I scribble a snippet of lyric, “Take your place on the great mandala as it moves through this moment of time…”

Pulled from my reverie as suddenly a crash to my left. Rising to investigate, I find the paper and porcelain, peach and terracotta angel that has hung for several years suspended from the ceiling by a brass hook, giving quiet oversight, has fallen to floor, taking hook and invisible line with her. Intact except for one broken wing which can be easily and almost invisibly repaired, I begin to resume writing when I realize this inexplicable moment deserves my attention.

Stay together, friends.
Don’t scatter and sleep.

Our friendship is made
of being awake.— Rumi

I think about something dream walker guide Toko-pa Turner wrote in a recent post – “Our purpose is to welcome these refugee aspects of the Self into belonging” – that impelled my reply – “Thank you for this beautiful story. Your words above struck a chord…and I immediately thought of our current global refugee crisis being the macro manifestation of the consequence of our micro, individual repression of the refugee aspects of Self.”

Bringing light and life to shadow.  Bringing our refugee aspects home.

Fallen angel.  Banished from Heaven.  Lucifer, the angel fallen from grace.  The angel crashed to the floor in my living room.   This is what she brought me:

Fallen angel with a broken wing.

Aren’t we all like her?

Aren’t we all stardust from Heaven (whatever that means for any of us?)

Suddenly arriving.

Stepping onto the stage of life, into a play mid-way,

not sure of our lines or the other players.

 

Oh, glorious sweet thing, ashamed and hiding the wound, the broken wing.

When can’t you see we’re all the same

Fallen angels

Earnestly trying

To fly our way home.

P1010719

Self Portrait Emerging

This year I began writing about my current threshold, transitioning from a career to creative oriented life, another of life’s letting go to let come.  A few posts ago, I framed it as the shift from ambition to meaning, and shared some internal signposts that pointed the direction to this new path.

Since then I’ve gotten a good bill of heart health.  And while my crown and bite are still off a bit (the metaphor isn’t lost), I’m optimistic this will resolve in right time.  I’m feeling rested, waking with sweet anticipation for the day like I did those mornings when I lived in Germany for three months, five years ago. I’ve taken up with a flamenco teacher whose “deconstructed” approach to this complex dance form fits better now at this point in my practice.  I celebrated my echoing day in this new eldering decade.  And to celebrate a dear friend’s new decade, I finally found the way into creating the artwork for a story she had written a few years back.  Ta Da…I finished and sent in for a first draft read my collection of love letters to poets.  Right now, I’m participating in a global online dream walker’s course, reviving a practice I know bears fruit, and a couple of weeks ago I attended a most lovely workshop on poetry and photography hosted by local writer-poet, Shawna Lemay.

During the winter interim after registering for BeComing, I read some of Shawna’s work,   her novel, Rumi and the Red Hand Bag (an alluring title with a deep fondness for both) and her latest collection of poetry, Asking.  There, she introduced me to the “poem-essay,” a form  that totally synchs with my way of thinking and writing.  And not a page turned without feeling a quickening of recognition, a jolt to my senses that here is another who is kindred.  When during the workshop, I wrote and recited my quick reflection to her prompt Wabi Sabi, she looked across the room in recognition.  Sources of appreciation and inspiration discovered.  We draw from the same well.  Again the evidence of an earlier realization: everything I need for a life well-lived lies in my own backyard.

Now, a couple of months later, a new invitation to consider this person I am becoming, in response to taking self portraits to see what is evoked, to dreaming images of light and shadow:

P1010478

Who is this person I am becoming?

Feet that carry me along the path

Made only by its walking to

God. Knows. Where.

 

It’s been said that by looking at one’s shadow

We come to see the face

We are before

We. Are. Born.

 

A spider crawls upon my hand

To write a web of possibility

To catch a moment of illumination.

P1010465

(Not a poem essay, instead a form borrowed from Alice Walker in her collection, Absolute Trust in the Goodness of the Earth.)

Leading in Emergence….lessons learned from travelling abroad

“Merhaba!” 

That’s “hello” in Turkish.  For the past two weeks, I’ve had occasion to speak this and other Turkish words and phrases – Please, Thank you, Where’s the toilet? Good morning, Good bye, How much? – as we toured from Istanbul through central and western Turkey.  A skim across the surface of this ancient culture and beautiful land, as we floated above the magical terrain of Cappadocia, dove into the cave dwellings at Göreme, walked among the archaeological ruins at Troy, Ephesus and Pamukkale, witnessed the mystical whirling dervishes and their founder’s tomb in Konya, and tasted our way through Istanbul’s Grand Bazaar and Spice Market.

Now as I settle back home, and make my way through the nine hour time difference, I’m in that odd, in between space of holding a myriad of new and novel sights, sounds, scents and impressions that filled me to the brim, with the anticipation of co-hosting a second Leading in Emergence learning lab November 6-7, in Sherwood Park, Alberta.  No doubt a side effect of jet lag, I’ve been thinking about how travelling abroad and stepping into a different culture invites me to consider how similar the frames, practices, and competencies are to navigating the slippery terrain of emergence and complexity.

Driving in Istanbul – it’s in the genes I was told.  A pattern emerges, flows and then collapses into the next iteration of chaos, backed up with a cacophony of horns. Cars, taxis, buses…bumper on bumper, stalled for minutes that become hours, apparently irrelevant traffic lights.  Pedestrians seem to intuit the space and pause to nimbly move between, around, across tram tracks, through intersections.  Or, in our case, abandon the taxi caught in a standstill, and walk to our destination.

The call to prayer, five times a day, every day, though NOT at the same time of day, is aMinaret.jpeg significant frame that organizes the comings and goings of people and their systems.  In the morning especially, I would hear the chant start at one minaret, and then a few moments later from another, then another, and another…like a wave that would build in crescendo, and then fade away voice by voice as the summons concluded.

sema.jpeg

Mesmerized by the “sema,” a  cultural exhibition by the whirling dervish sect of Sufism founded by Rumi, it demonstrated how prayer and moving meditation have been used for centuries to connect with the divine to awaken knowing and wisdom for uncertain times.

Our very experienced tour guide knew to make an early reservation for the hot air balloon ride, given we’d be at the whim of winds and weather.  Unabashed commitment paid off, as seven of us soared with fifty other balloons at sunset over the fairy chimneys while our ambivalent tour mates, not sure they wanted to pay the price, postponed planning to the next day.  It was not to be, as the skilful pilots assessed the winds unfavourable for safe flying.  Know, plan, commit, act are the lessons here.Cappadocia KebapSeduced by aromas of grilled food, we sampled and savoured, only to have our guts protest…an embodied knowing that won’t be denied!

 

 

 

How has travelling to other places opened you to new impressions and insights? What are your stories about emergence and complexity…when you’ve felt uncertain and coped with chaos…sensed and intuited patterns…let go to let come and step into the space of bold action?