When the rhythm of the heart becomes hectic,
Time takes on the strain until it breaks;
Then all the unattended stress falls in
On the mind like an endless, increasing weight.The light in the mind becomes dim.
Things you could take in your stride before
Now become laborsome events of will.Weariness invades your spirit.
Gravity begins falling inside you,
Dragging down every bone.The tide you never valued has gone out.
And you are marooned on unsure ground.
Something within you has closed down;
And you cannot push yourself back to life.You have been forced to enter empty time.
The desire that drove you has relinquished.
There is nothing else to do now but rest
And patiently learn to receive the self
You have forsaken in the race of days.At first your thinking will darken
And sadness take over like listless weather.
The flow of unwept tears will frighten you.You have traveled too fast over false ground;
Now your soul has come to take you back.Take refuge in your senses, open up
To all the small miracles you rushed through.Become inclined to watch the way of rain
When it falls slow and free.Imitate the habit of twilight,
Taking time to open the well of color
That fostered the brightness of day.Draw alongside the silence of stone
Until its calmness can claim you.
Be excessively gentle with yourself.Stay clear of those vexed in spirit.
Learn to linger around someone of ease
Who feels they have all the time in the world.Gradually, you will return to yourself,
Having learned a new respect for your heart
And the joy that dwells far within slow time.To Bless the Space Between Us: A Book of Blessings by John O’Donohue
John O’Donohue is one of my favorite poets, and I was introduced to him by Aunty Pua. I sent this poem to a colleague today who is going through it at work. I feel like John O’Donohue’s poems are gentle medicine, reminding us of what is important. Aunty Pua would always ask us what we were curious about. She reminded us if the difference between a “job”, and WORK. Something that fills your cup, your soul. She would ask us if we were suffering from the disease of busy-ness.
And we are. I am. I am guessing you are too. So much to do, to be, to lament, to fight for. Receipts to turn in. Invoices to process, contracts, reports. Instead, how might I imitate the habit of twilight? How am I forsaking myself in the race of days? Am I the one vexed in spirit? Perhaps only my therapist knows.
I didn’t write my post this week because I was writing and reading poetry. I was eating pickled bittermelon and laulau. I was busy celebrating the birthday of a beloved being who turned one years old. Dressed in her pink tutu, pigtails, and riotous neon akulikuli lei, a well of color. Slow and free, she hung with her aunties and uncles. Beloved, she brought us the brightness of day. All her cuzzies and friends were exhausted with the joy of an overactive “Foam Daddy” bubble machine and a tall, zippity water slide.
The way we hold beloved children like her, I hope we can hold each other like that! Let’s have fun, take our time, be present, rest, celebrate, stop killing in the name of our egos and unresolved trauma, and find each other in our curious and unwinding wonder of the world.
Mahalo,
Dawn
Photo taken 7/11/24 in Waikīkī.