Poetry Muse Strikes Again

Committing specific chains of words to the page… where does one begin when there is so much inside?  Where does one begin when one has not had a nourishing swig of uncontrollable laughter in too long to mention?  Yeah, that’d be me… Yesterday I realized I haven’t had a good laugh in way too long.  I have laughed.  That’s some consolation… but not the kind where I get an ab workout and feel divinely empty and blissfully spent afterwards.  Please, All Pervading Funny Bone, come take a swim under my skin.  I beg of Thee!

I guess I’ll tell you that I went to the Lake Meritt Farmer’s Market yesterday to serve as the Poetic Muse again!  But I felt extra shy.  Honestly, this new and uncaffeinated rendition of myself feels very tender and sensitive like a fresh hatched dinosaur.  (OMG, can you imagine how adorable that would be… to stumble upon a boulder sized egg, just in time for it to crack open from the inside and reveal the most shiny, tiny, slippery little tyrannosaurus rex!?  To me that sounds profound!  Which reminds me suddenly of a dream I had last night that I was in Disney Land on a Saturday night and all my friends wanted to go on dates.  I didn’t.  So I got left behind… and I was really bummed, because I wanted to go out and play, but I was not so moved to step out into the vast, dark amusement park on my own.  I didn’t want to be alone.  I was afraid of getting lost and of being bored.  I think I just stayed home and watched a movie starring Steve Carell instead.  (But even the movie was scary… in one scene he was walking through dark caves with blood dripping from the walls.  The only reason I could handle it, is because it was Steve Carell and he makes any situation more than palatable.)

Anyway, what a BRILLIANT metaphor for my experience of Life!  Alone in a vast, dark amusement park on a Saturday night!  Touche, I say to my own divine psyche!

Well, I sat on the wall with my typewriter for a while… But I after not too long, I just couldn’t bare the sensations of so many people walking by and making intentional effort not to look at me.  It was excruciating.  I flirted with the idea of heading home.  But I decided to take a lap around and get my vegetables and hopefully load up on some courage and inspiration while I was at it.  I asked the young, handsome though tortured tamale salesman with open-sky-blue-eyes to typewriter sit for me.  And while I was at it, I asked him for some words of wisdom and strength.  He’s adorable, because he’s got this kinda mopey demeanor juxtaposed with a deep engagement in the moments we share… it puzzles me beautifully.  Like a good breathing poem should.  I felt stronger when I left him to hunt and gather.

Speaking of hunting and gathering, I have discovered these Japanese cucumbers that are SUBLIME.  They are so sassy and snappy like cool, submissive ice cubes.  The skin is thin enough not to be a bitter, dense hassle.  (And who likes bitter, dense hassles after all?)  I BOUGHT TWO!  This was a first… buying TWO entire cucumbers just for me…  You gotta try ‘em while they’re peaking.  If you know what’s best for you.

I’m in love with the man who works at that particular veggie stand.  Nothing fancy as far as love goes, but very mutual nourishing.  We just both savor the brief, simple moments of overlapping existence.  He’s a tall, slender black man who I bet has like ten pounds of dreadlocks, but he keeps them all neat in a big, black knitted hat.  He’s got the right kinda soul for me~ old, well seasoned, deep.  Honestly, we don’t even need to speak a single word to dig eachother’s groove… we just do because… it’s the American way.  (Actually, now that I think about it, there is no shortage of soul to be imbibed at farmer’s markets in general…)
I shared my conundrum with him of simultaneously wanting to run away and hide and to stand boldly committed in the face of my discomfort.   I said, maybe I just needed to find a different place to sit.  He grunted and quickly stated that there ARE no better places to sit.  As I hoped he would, he ordered me to march right back to my original perch and take the power back.  After I had an overflowing sac of vibrant, rainbow colored gifts from the earth, that’s exactly what I did.

Thankfully, because I connected with two very awake souls and wrote them pretty kick ass poems if I do say so myself.  I only have the bandwidth to share about one though… Jim.  He was all decked out in cyclist gear.  He approached me and shared that his wife was a poet also.  And an amazing renaissance woman.  As he spoke of her, he spilled with deep respect, admiration and devotion for this woman.  Honestly, she DID sound about like me in another quarter of a century… Which rings these here bells, since I’m all about aging and ripening.

This man, Jim, talk about a wellspring!  Lately I have been consciously collecting Lovers of Life… Because that is something that I am fostering in myself.  After so many arduous years of feeling depressed and suicidal, I am SO ready to love life.  And since we are the company we keep… But back to this particular slice of passionate humanity.  Jim shared himself with me unabashedly.  After sharing about his wife, I offered him a poem and asked him what was in his heart.  This question stirred something in him.  He told me that not so long ago he had had some heart troubles that may have been precursors to heart attack.  This had changed his life.  After surgery, he actually FELT his heart in a whole new, profound way.  He quit a job he hated.  I mean *REALLY* hated.  It had been sadistically sucking him dry of life for a long arduous walk through the soul’s desert scapes.

I just have to say… that I have met so many people who have been freed and seasoned by life threatening illness.  In fact, I think that should be a top criteria for being the president.  You must’ve had a brush with death in order to be in charge of our county!  Ahem.  So Jim… His amazing wife was a total support during this massive transformation.  And now he is a passionate cyclist.  On his rides, he sniffs out fascinating, liberated humans and makes a connection with them.  Then he blogs about it!  Sounds familiar…

He told me that on a recent ride, he met a woman riding a unicycle with a mountain bike tire, up very steep hills.  She said she was training to ride through Mongolia, where none of the roads are paved!  And he met an old hippy freak with a long beard and a Hawaiian shirt who it turned out was a WORLD CHAMPION gambler!  And… He met me.  He said he would blog about me.  He took my photo as I plunked out his profound poem.  (One thing I forgot to say about Jim is that he was wearing these red lensed sun glasses… so I could see his eyes, but not fully.  In retrospect, I realize that the whole time we were connecting, this was passively driving me bonkers.  I just wanted to bask in the unfiltered light of his soul as is my proclivity.  Just for the record…)

So he has already written the said blog.  I discovered it last night and it made my heart dance like a drunk!  I loved being able to see my offering from a whole new angle… and the rippling impact that it has on the world.  Check it out:


The last thing I’ll say about Jim is that I was so inspired by his dedication to being present, receiving the moment as a miraculous gift.  I have been practicing that lately and it is absolutely stunning what characters, situations and shades of aliveness that the One graciously offers at our Holy Feet!  Thank you, oh All Pervading Bestower of Winking Profundity!

3 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. spirit2go
    Jul 18, 2010 @ 16:27:17

    Nice Work! I added a comment to the cyclist’s blog. Like the way he puts words together.


  2. souldipper
    Jul 18, 2010 @ 23:17:53

    Yeeeaaahhwhoooo! A photo showing you doing exactly what is the most creative and inventive form of therapeutic service ever imagined!

    What a delight to see you and to have one of your ‘recipients’ write about his experience.

    Athena Grace, when I think of you writing this poetry, it brings Percy Bysshe Shelley http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Percy_Bysshe_Shelley
    to mind. Why? and this is not prophetic… because someone said of Shelley, “He was a spiritual rebel rather than a social radical.”

    I see you, as a poet, being “Percy Bysshe Shelley FREE” And look what you are giving the world.

    I don’t doubt you are bringing an appreciation for poetry back into the forefront!

    Lots of love on a gloriously good day. (I’m off to clean my eaves!) – Amy


  3. souldipper
    Jul 18, 2010 @ 23:19:44

    P.S. – Oh, and the FREE part is not meaning ‘payment’ wise! It is meant as you being: uninhibited, natural, fully you!


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