Nancy Lankston
‘’Turn down the noise. Reduce the speed. Be like the somnolent bears or those other animals that slow down and almost die in the cold season.
Let it be the way it is.
The magic is there in its power.”
~Henry Mitchell
Photo: Lair of the Bear
by Nancy Lankston
If you come as softly
As wind within the trees
You may hear what I hear
See what sorrow sees.
If you come as lightly
As threading dew
I will take you gladly
Nor ask more of you.
You may sit beside me
Silent as a breath
Only those who stay dead
Shall remember death.
And if you come I will be silent
Nor speak harsh words to you.
I will not ask you why, now.
Or how, or what you do.
We shall sit here, softly
Beneath two different years
And the rich earth between us
Shall drink our tears.
~Audre Lorde
Full moon in watery Cancer lights up the longest night in the northern hemisphere. This is a traditional time of rest and reflection. Sit in the stillness of winter solstice and breathe with the slow flow of nature in winter. Slow down and enjoy the quiet gifts of the season.
#FullMoon
#SolsticeLight
Love and compassion are necessities, not luxuries.
Without them humanity cannot survive.
~Dalai Lama
I have been sitting still, watching and listening, for decades. Writers are natural observers and I am no exception. I love watching people and events from the sidelines. But in the past few weeks, it has become more and more difficult for me to simply sit still and observe.
I have been watching and listening for months as Donald Trump encourages his followers to act from a place of hatred and rage. In the beginning, Mr. Trump seemed like a bad joke – a blowhard reality TV star runs for president, really?! But now he has managed to become the Republican nominee for President of the United States, and this ridiculous political side show just got very very scary.
I want to run screaming into the street and stop cars. I want to ask everyone I meet if they have listened carefully to what Mr. Trump says in speech after speech. I want to insist that they follow me home to my living room where I can show them clip after clip of Trump gleefully inciting hatred and racism and divisions between people. And I want to remind them of what McCarthy and other peddlers of hate have done to our country in the past. I want to beg people to not let that happen again.
But I won’t do that. I won’t run into the street and stop strangers. I would be labeled crazy. I won’t make people sit still, watch and LISTEN to what Donald Trump has been saying for months. I wish I could but I cannot.
What I can do is express my deep fear about what Donald Trump may do if he becomes our President. I can voice my concerns to family and friends, and to you, my readers. I can tell you how disturbed I am by all the vitriol and fear that Mr. Trump is selling.
I believe that love is always the answer. And sometimes love requires that we stand up and shout NO, this is NOT OK! Sometime love requires that we step out of our comfort zone and enter the fray.
Mr. Trump’s vision of America is NOT my vision. He does NOT speak for me or the Americans I know and love.
Polite silence is not the answer. Sitting still is not the answer. So I am standing up and shouting NO! every chance I get. I am telling family and friends exactly what I have observed in this man who wants to be my president. And I am doing it in the name of love and unity and compassion.
I hope you will stand up and join me.
“Trump came one breath short of advocating a police state tonight
(it is not an accident that David Duke tweeted such great applause)…
I pray the better angels of America will rise up and
dissolve all the hatred that was spewed
into our body politic tonight.”
~Marianne Williamson, July 21, 2016
The Mending
There comes a time
when the mending is out of our hands.
It falls beyond the reach
of needle and thread,
of determined fixing and worn self help patches,
all manner of effort falls short.
When the unraveling comes
do not be afraid;
the Unmaker stands before
a greater loom where
chyrsalises are shed,
tight knots in life unspooled to the floor
the splendor of leaves fall from the trees
returning to the humility of ground
a glint of ebony on the raven’s wing,
as the black thread is shuttled,
back and forth, our questions,
back and forth, crashing wave to shore
rocked by the drum of the heartbeat
lungs empty and fill again,
until the essential nature
of a larger design speaks
quieting us with
the eloquence of stillness.
Simple as a breath,
into the great unwinding we go
we are rendered out of our hunting grounds,
and delivered into something that opens our eyes;
we become kin to the seasons and
kneel before the wise counsel of winter
bare and humbled
reaching toward our inner sky.
by Margo Stebbing