The Monkeys. Again.

A poem & a hello from my retreat space

Hello!

Well, as some of you know, I am on a nine day solo writing retreat (about a ten hour drive from my home).

And, wow—as often happens when we are alone with ourselves, the mind noise has gotten nosier. Or, maybe it hasn’t gotten noisier, it’s just quiet enough to notice the noise.

I have been here three days now, and I have had many moments of lovely peace, spaciousness, quiet, beauty galore—deep gratitude.

And,

as my below poem conveys, there has been plenty of loudness too.

I am reminding myself that when fear kicks in, it’s usually a knock on the door of my insides saying—come closer. Listen.

I am reminding myself to let it all be just as it is. I do not need to be afraid of the fear/discomfort that arises. I can turn toward it. Nothing to get rid of.

This too. This too.

I am posting occasional, little glimpses of this nine day journey over on my daily writing page, as well as in the “notes” section on my Substack page.

To those of you who answered my call for “Writerly tips/inspiration/ encouragement—thank you so, so much.

And now, a poem & a few photos of my time here…

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Day #127 of (mostly unedited) daily writing/sharing

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The Monkeys. Again.

The monkeys in my mind 
are having a field day today, a wild
celebration where all of the unkind, 
unwise, frantic fraidy-cats are invited, 

the mean ones who love 
the word stupid, the ones 
who love to gossip and compare 
and laugh at you 
when you're down, 

the ones who are afraid of hungry ghosts 
and their own, long shadows
and love to tell you that you are doing it all
wrong wrong wrong.
 
Thankfully, though,
I am all grown up now 
and I am on to them. 

I know they are fear in disguise, 
wounded ones who desperately
need the attention of someone who loves 
them unconditionally, hears them 
with the ears of their heart,
sees them with still-lake eyes. 

So, I will invite each of them 
onto my lap and listen until 
they run out of ways to run, hide, numb.

Oh, Love, I will say 
as I brush their hair 
from their tired eyes—

I've got you. 

Really, they've always 
just wanted 
to be gotten. 

There, there now—
I'll sing you your favorite lullaby, 

Hush little baby, 
don't you cry...

I've got you, my little ones. I've got you.

And then, perhaps, 
when they are all hushed 
and rested, 

we will turn on our favorite dance music, 
and move our hips to the rhythm
of something only we can feel—

twirl each other until 
we are dizzy and dazzled 
with delight, 

until we see only love 
in each other's familiar eyes.

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I’ve collected a list of my very favorite books on writing/creativity, poetry books, podcasts & favorite poets. I would love to hear what yours are. Click on the below link to access.

PS: I will continually add to this list…

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Signed copies of my book “Staying in Love” & signed poetry prints are available at the following link.

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Join me for Sunday Spark!

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