Attention Composition

Consider the foreground carefully.

Shiny spider silk or
an airplane's glint.

The constant river rush or
traffic's ever-exhaling breath.

A breeze blows your hair across your forehead --
the trees, too, or
that dry, cool air conditioner air.

Choose what's less important.
Let it go for now.

What you want more of -- go to it.
Bring it in close.
Bother with the angles.
Wait for the light to shift.
Let another leaf fall.

Consider the foreground carefully.

Many thanks to Austin Hikes for Creative Types and organizer/nature hike leader extraordinaire Joe Lapp for taking me on a great adventure and inspiring this poem.

You Stopped Loving Yourself

You stopped loving yourself.
Was it at breakfast, or when you were five?
Who knows when?

Today is not for when.

Dust off the box and unwrap it.
Let the shining ribbon fall away.
Remove the tape at the seams, carefully,
or rip the paper to shreds.
Peer inside and don't flinch away.

Start with the self that tried to
murder your living. Love that one.
Listen to the self that kept you from
your dreams. Remember to hear the words,
and nod, and refrain from giving advice.
Go on a long walk in the forest together,
you and yourself.
Feel the cool dew on your faces.
Share a knowing look.

Whenever you're ready,
take yourself on extravagant picnics
with pickles and edible flowers.
Watch the sunset to the full on,
black, night sky.

Date a while. No need to rush.
Only when the time is right, move in together.
You'll tie the knot. You'll walk on the beach,
holding hands, saying nothing. When you
disagree, cradle the argument like a newborn
in your arms. Stroke its face and coo.
And the two of you, let your make up be sweet,
and long.

Love Poem

This love has made me crazy.
I keep forgetting to rise up, to worry,
and I’m dancing around in meadows,
silly and stupid with your ecstasy.

Where were all these meadows before?

Next to you in the car,
the discord of lights and smog
becomes Spring itself.
All of humanity is on the same path, at the same time,
red lights guiding the way.

I only bother to sleep to hold
your hand in those unconscious moments.
Butterflies and moths fly out of my eyes.
Two trees use me as their telephone line.
I try to tell the man watering red hibiscus plants.
He gives me a round stone.

How can I explain this insanity?
I just follow the owl flying overhead,
downtown, at midday. Your eyes glisten,
you hold me close. I’m late again
for another meeting.

Rumi Does NLP

In NLP, there's a concept called the Parts Model. Whether it's neurologically true or not, many people experience the world as if they had a bunch of different parts running around within them. There's a part that wants to go to graduate school, a part that wants to eat chocolate cake, a part that wants to retire early, a part that wants a new car now.

Each part has a positive intention and behaviors that it's in charge of. Even the part that wants to eat the chocolate cake has a positive intention of feeling good now.

Many times, people experience these parts as warring with each other. "A part of me wants to disown my parents and never see them again, but another part of me tells me I won't follow through with it." These parts are described as "polarized." Polarized parts usually have limited behaviors (in this example, the behaviors are: disown my parents, and criticize the ability to do so).

And sometimes, lots of parts gang up on one part. "Nobody appreciates your stupid whining," parts seem to be saying to a younger, scared part. When this happens, we can be incredibly cruel to ourselves, blaming and shaming a part within.

Rumi describes what happens when we start to appreciate each part and its positive intent. Many people describe a similar feeling of "welcoming everyone within" when they go through an NLP Practitioner class and begin to work with their inner parts in kinder, gentler ways.

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

What Have You Done With My Life?

Heartbeat Cave. Click for larger version. Photo by Virginia Brodie

Dedicated to all the teachers I met on Maui.

What have you done with my life?

You've taken it, and given me this:
crashing waves;
the rustle of the hala tree;
a bird flies over head;
I see the stars.

I stay up too late and leave the laundry too long.

After running naked along the shore all night, and praising, I'm looking for my clothes.
The wind blows.
The clouds move on.
The stars are out again.

I'll never forgive you.