I've been grateful for the encouraging responses I've received this week for a poem I wrote ("Joy") that was recently published in the UU World. I received a message today from a fellow member of my congregation that I especially loved, as she shared a story of what the poem evoked for her. From her email:
Hello Terri...
Your lovely poem about purple morning glories struck a responsive chord with me as I gathered their seeds from a picket fence in Montgomery about 10 years ago and have been spreading them around Newburgh every since. In my own little apartment garden I have preferred them to "Heavenly Blue'' which I used to plant. One year they climbed the trellis to the third floor apartment's balcony. I too, do love them dearly, although I must confess I discipline them as well, pulling them off the yews and untangling them from asters, when necessary. There are lots of lessons in our purple morning glories. Deep Congratulations to you to have the joy of seeing your work published!...
With Love,
V
The image of my friend- a lively 84-year old activist- spreading her morning glory seeds throughout the city of Newburgh brought a delightful smile to my day. But I also loved her wise tenacity at the mention of disciplining those morning glories. I had to grin, knowing my own tendency to let those flowers run amok.
Of course I don't just mean the ones that climb my front porch trellis every summer. I mean the glories of passionate impulse, the overflowing fountains of ecstasy, the elevation of the soul ...I mean all that is in me that yearns for light.
I actually wrote the poem in a summer when I was pretty high on life-- taken up by the Artists' Way, Margaret Fuller, and the music of soul. But those emotional highs were soon followed by deep lows, and it was necessary for my Sufi heart to discover her Zen mind. I began attending day-long retreats (in the Chan tradition), and eventually attended a five-day Western Zen one as well. Learning to sit and breathe and just be within the disciplined environment with its set schedule and uniform bows and prostrations helped me to align mind and soul, and to find emotional balance.
As much as I love the work I am doing with the spiritual direction program and all its creative tangles, includng the beautiful rediscovery of my Christian roots, I am very much missing those Zen retreat days and the sense of equanimity I derived from following a set discipline. (I mean discipline here as a gentle tending-- pruning, not punishing.) It is very easy for my emotional vines to overrun the garden, and other flowers- like asters- also deserve a chance to bloom. While I do try to sit and meditate for some time each day, I know I could benefit from a more structured practice and environment.
So I'm thankful for the message in my inbox this morning, as I cherish the reminder to tend to those vines. For when passion meets discipline, I know joy cannot be far behind.
Hello Terri...
Your lovely poem about purple morning glories struck a responsive chord with me as I gathered their seeds from a picket fence in Montgomery about 10 years ago and have been spreading them around Newburgh every since. In my own little apartment garden I have preferred them to "Heavenly Blue'' which I used to plant. One year they climbed the trellis to the third floor apartment's balcony. I too, do love them dearly, although I must confess I discipline them as well, pulling them off the yews and untangling them from asters, when necessary. There are lots of lessons in our purple morning glories. Deep Congratulations to you to have the joy of seeing your work published!...
With Love,
V
The image of my friend- a lively 84-year old activist- spreading her morning glory seeds throughout the city of Newburgh brought a delightful smile to my day. But I also loved her wise tenacity at the mention of disciplining those morning glories. I had to grin, knowing my own tendency to let those flowers run amok.
Of course I don't just mean the ones that climb my front porch trellis every summer. I mean the glories of passionate impulse, the overflowing fountains of ecstasy, the elevation of the soul ...I mean all that is in me that yearns for light.
I actually wrote the poem in a summer when I was pretty high on life-- taken up by the Artists' Way, Margaret Fuller, and the music of soul. But those emotional highs were soon followed by deep lows, and it was necessary for my Sufi heart to discover her Zen mind. I began attending day-long retreats (in the Chan tradition), and eventually attended a five-day Western Zen one as well. Learning to sit and breathe and just be within the disciplined environment with its set schedule and uniform bows and prostrations helped me to align mind and soul, and to find emotional balance.
As much as I love the work I am doing with the spiritual direction program and all its creative tangles, includng the beautiful rediscovery of my Christian roots, I am very much missing those Zen retreat days and the sense of equanimity I derived from following a set discipline. (I mean discipline here as a gentle tending-- pruning, not punishing.) It is very easy for my emotional vines to overrun the garden, and other flowers- like asters- also deserve a chance to bloom. While I do try to sit and meditate for some time each day, I know I could benefit from a more structured practice and environment.
So I'm thankful for the message in my inbox this morning, as I cherish the reminder to tend to those vines. For when passion meets discipline, I know joy cannot be far behind.
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