Sudden Showers

 I was practicing the koto this evening when the number nine string snapped suddenly as I was playing it. It sounded like a gunshot, as it snapped back, and got my hand. So here I am, instead of playing koto. 

Sheesh....and I have lessons tomorrow.

I was working on memorizing a song called, "Sudden Showers." 

I guess I'll play "sudden showers" here instead of on the koto.  

I told my koto teacher that she’s like a tarot card because the music she gives me, usually has something to do with my week. The day she gave me the song to learn, I went out on my bike. The thunderheads grew and grew until the sky got black, and thunder rumbled overhead.  

The air felt fresh, and I felt quite happy to be zipping around on my bike. But I headed back indoors just as a sudden shower poured down.

 Rain, wonderful rain enough to make lovely puddles on the ground.   

Sudden showers.  

That is how I feel right now.  

Sudden showers.  

Showers of what?  

You never know when they will come, or how fierce. 

Rain?   

Lightening.

Typoon. 

Sudden showers of….?  

Words?  

D r  

    I  

   P  

P  

I  

N  

G    

                                 D  

O  

    W  

N?   

  

Sudden showers of life?  

Sunny one moment.  

Pouring the next.   

Dry ground.  

Puddles everywhere. Sometimes it's just confusing.

Water my garden. 

That was a message I got today. 

So that's why I'm here. 

Though the nights are longer, colder. 

Water it.  

Though there is frost. And most of the plants are now mulch. And the weeds are all brown, everything looks crispy.  And the little harvest is nearly gathered in.

Water it.  

Drought. 

Water it. 

So I am here. 

Okay! 

Fine.  

I'll water it... 

I'm here. With a pitcher. And a bit of water. Though as of this moment, I'm not feeling particularly flowing with words.   Maybe I'll sprinkle some water over the earth, and top it with leaves and bit of straw. As it is October, and it is associated with Spirits decay, and spooky things. 

Yet.... 

Maybe the decay has a point. Maybe it's not quite so spooky.  

Maybe the spookiest thing is our egos. Or own haunted mind, cluttered with the past. 

I keep having experiences where I feel like a great deal of grace has rained down on me for no reason, and I feel seen and loved, for no reason. Then in contrast, I keep having the opposite where I feel like I am not seen, or heard, and utterly invisible, which makes me feel quite ghostly. The two contrasting happenings have been high-def, and triggered something in me that has made me look at my own spooks, and insecurities. 

This month has felt poignant, sunny, shadowy, spooky, peaceful, beautiful, vivid, good/bad and painful. Here, I am starting to perhaps, understand a fraction of what it must feel like to feel like what Spirit must feel like.

Patiently waiting for the ego to finally step aside, and let spirit direct. To let what is invisible to the human eye, be seen, to let what is unheard to the human ear be heard, to move to a rhythm that always expands, and invites unity. To shine on the invisible things.

So here’s me watering my garden. Just a bit....

 I scribbled this out a while ago. I may come back and sprinkle some more spooky poems if I feel inspired.  

 

Making peace with peace

You craved me, yet pushed me away. I wanted to be your friend. But you never let me stay. I watched from afar, like a dove on a tree, wondering if there’d ever be a time, that you’d stop, and see?  

I peered in through your windows as you sat down, but I flew away, when you started to criticize with a harsh sound.  

I knocked on your door, I rang your bell. I waited many hours.  

But you never drew from my well.  

You couldn’t hear me through all the noise, all the TV shows, the shouts, all your fine toys.  

You’d go to work, and get into your grind, but you never paused, to see me, the true treasure, the find. 

I sent you messages every day. I sent you peace, and I never expected you to pay.  

 All my messages got returned. You never opened them, you never learned. 

You never looked up from your phone to see, every bit of peace surrounding you, the mountains, the hills---all free.  

I left sunsets, rainbows, shooting stars. I left a trail of peaceful glitter, I was close, and you thought I was far.  

I gave the crickets their hum, I gave the bullfrogs their deep, throated, drum.  

I lit the candles in the dark.  

I was that ignored hug, the light, the spark.  

I offered you a hand every day. 

I asked to be your friend, but you kept shoving me away. 

You made war with the peace, and never welcomed me in. 

I had to creep through the cracks, and hide where no one would think I’d be in.  

Every time you had an empty space, you’d fill it up, with something to distract you from my ever-present grace.  

When you had nothing to do, you blamed me for not helping you.  

The only times I held your attention, were the times, when you lost lovers, when you were ill, or had a cold, or an infection. 

Here, you could not push me away, you had to hear what peace had to say. 

You could not fill every moment with noise.  

You had to hold onto me, because it was your only choice. 

Though as soon as your body had healed from its disease, you pushed me away, like you were scratching fleas.  

You shamed the space I brought with me. You didn’t like things you couldn’t see. 

You derided the moments where no actions lurked. 

You thought you were your talents, your work.  

You were frightened to keep me around. You were afraid, that peace was too restful a sound.  

So though you have spurned my affection.  

I remember the times we shared, with fond recollection. 

An empty house, a silent street. A moonlit night, where you and I meet. 

Peace. 

I saw your tired eyes. 

I sat by your side.  

The time you felt lost, and cried.  

The time when you broke your arm, I hugged you close, and kept you from much worse.  

 

The moment you stopped making lists, I was there and led you to a place called bliss.  

The time you heard me, when I asked you to stop. To go outside, to take a walk. 

The split second, you stopped before you judged. You heard me tell you, to let go of your grudge. 

The time you paused working on a busy day, to take your kids outside, to play. 

The moments when you put your phone down, when you let your feet touch the earth, the ground. 

Though those moments, seem distant, like a dream. 

I’ll be always here. 

Peace has always been.