I am doing my best to prioritize poetry over this newsletter. With my full time career and family, that means I do 30 minutes of poetry most days per week, typically before the sun comes up. So Reflection posts get worked on during other blocks of time, typically during the weekends, in addition to longer poetry writing blocks. I do make notes on the process and themes as I write the poems, but nothing in the format of a Reflection essay...just short clips to remind me of key things for when I get to the writing the Reflection.
Brian, thank you for letting us see the canvas and the paints that you used to make this poem. For me, it feels alive and spacious. Time as a River is one of my favorite ways to try to understand the mystery of yesterday, today, and tomorrow. And I agree with you. Who we are today is, indeed, created by our history in a delicate alchemy with the present moment.
For me, that describes the work of The Beloved who is continuously creating Time. One who dreams the story of our lives and gives us a chance to help fill the pages with what we love and care about— our work and our callings in the world.
The poem reveals how each moment is fleeting. We can't see the whole process at once. We can only notice the smoothness of the river stones today, and how they have become more beautiful, their rough edges now gone. That is exactly what draws me to the practice of walking on familiar trails and watching for the tiniest changes. I wonder if the present microseason can only really be seen, and touched, and savored in the gentlest, most selfless way? Maybe this is also true of our lives...
And this: “Instead, they have become part of the process…anything that is separate from the process does not make sense.” Absolutely. The process is everything.
I like how you made “Come be here” stand alone. It is the invitation I always feel as I enter the quiet, ancient rooms and hallways of the forest. My favorite line in this work is “your living flame joined/ with the cold river of experience” Often, the water is so very cold. We wonder if we can keep our heat going in this swimming?
Thank you for this one, Brian. It’s very timely. I’ll keep it in my pocket for this season.
Ann, thank you so very much for sharing what is speaking to you, it's very eloquent. I think I can see why your essays/pictures on microseasons resonate with me!
Regarding keeping our heat in the cold, I like your question. I think it is a fine question and something we want when we're faced with a cold situation, and I also think one that for most of our conventional lives, we need to hold on to and/or return to. I do think there are seasons where the heat has to give itself to the cold, and in some sense it disappears, but in another sense both the cold and the heat are transformed...mist. It's a more mystical view, but the one and the felt sense that has carried me through cold times.
"I have only been writing for 3 years. I wonder what it will feel like to revisit writing ten years from now with a willingness to edit." It's been fascinating for me to revisit even just writing done at the start of this year, so I share the same sentiments of looking forward to looking back.
I think this poem is now even more powerful for me having read your reflection. Thank you for the context at the start, that was especially vivid and interesting. I love when location and setting help to birth creativity. It sounds beautifully atmospheric there perched high and watching the clouds and rain and mists.
mist the remnant of /
yesterday's troubles
^this now becomes one of the most powerful lines for me. It reminds me that even when we are low or struggling that it need not be endless. Conversely, the same can be said of happiness, providing all the more reason to notice those moments and be present within them.
It’s not always easy, for sure. It is thought but also an aspect of emergence. Many times a sentence feels right and I don’t really understand why, and I draw conclusions and connections from it during a later read, or as I continue writing. Half the time writing poetry feels like a mystery.
Do you write your process pieces in the same time allotment that you write poetry? Or is poetry a morning experience, process an evening one?
I am doing my best to prioritize poetry over this newsletter. With my full time career and family, that means I do 30 minutes of poetry most days per week, typically before the sun comes up. So Reflection posts get worked on during other blocks of time, typically during the weekends, in addition to longer poetry writing blocks. I do make notes on the process and themes as I write the poems, but nothing in the format of a Reflection essay...just short clips to remind me of key things for when I get to the writing the Reflection.
This is a great question, Taegan 👌
Brian, thank you for letting us see the canvas and the paints that you used to make this poem. For me, it feels alive and spacious. Time as a River is one of my favorite ways to try to understand the mystery of yesterday, today, and tomorrow. And I agree with you. Who we are today is, indeed, created by our history in a delicate alchemy with the present moment.
For me, that describes the work of The Beloved who is continuously creating Time. One who dreams the story of our lives and gives us a chance to help fill the pages with what we love and care about— our work and our callings in the world.
The poem reveals how each moment is fleeting. We can't see the whole process at once. We can only notice the smoothness of the river stones today, and how they have become more beautiful, their rough edges now gone. That is exactly what draws me to the practice of walking on familiar trails and watching for the tiniest changes. I wonder if the present microseason can only really be seen, and touched, and savored in the gentlest, most selfless way? Maybe this is also true of our lives...
And this: “Instead, they have become part of the process…anything that is separate from the process does not make sense.” Absolutely. The process is everything.
I like how you made “Come be here” stand alone. It is the invitation I always feel as I enter the quiet, ancient rooms and hallways of the forest. My favorite line in this work is “your living flame joined/ with the cold river of experience” Often, the water is so very cold. We wonder if we can keep our heat going in this swimming?
Thank you for this one, Brian. It’s very timely. I’ll keep it in my pocket for this season.
Ann, thank you so very much for sharing what is speaking to you, it's very eloquent. I think I can see why your essays/pictures on microseasons resonate with me!
Regarding keeping our heat in the cold, I like your question. I think it is a fine question and something we want when we're faced with a cold situation, and I also think one that for most of our conventional lives, we need to hold on to and/or return to. I do think there are seasons where the heat has to give itself to the cold, and in some sense it disappears, but in another sense both the cold and the heat are transformed...mist. It's a more mystical view, but the one and the felt sense that has carried me through cold times.
And I'm always thankful when the heat returns!
Absolutely. Thank you for remembering there’s value in the cold as well. It makes the heat feel all the warmer somehow. I often forget this.
The evolution of your poems, the poems themselves, and your notes are fascinating.
Thanks for paying attention to them Patris!
"I have only been writing for 3 years. I wonder what it will feel like to revisit writing ten years from now with a willingness to edit." It's been fascinating for me to revisit even just writing done at the start of this year, so I share the same sentiments of looking forward to looking back.
I think this poem is now even more powerful for me having read your reflection. Thank you for the context at the start, that was especially vivid and interesting. I love when location and setting help to birth creativity. It sounds beautifully atmospheric there perched high and watching the clouds and rain and mists.
mist the remnant of /
yesterday's troubles
^this now becomes one of the most powerful lines for me. It reminds me that even when we are low or struggling that it need not be endless. Conversely, the same can be said of happiness, providing all the more reason to notice those moments and be present within them.
Lovely reflection! And amazing that you put so much thought into it. Someone I find it hard to articulate what happened with my poem...
It’s not always easy, for sure. It is thought but also an aspect of emergence. Many times a sentence feels right and I don’t really understand why, and I draw conclusions and connections from it during a later read, or as I continue writing. Half the time writing poetry feels like a mystery.
Amanhã cedo leio com toda a minha atenção , o meu amor e a minha paciência
Amo
Você
I’m grateful you’re here, that you wrote in Portuguese, and for the translate button. I look forward to hearing your thoughts when you read through!
😊