Pocket Presence

pocket-presence-framed

Pocket Presence

 

“I will pack you up in the pocket of my heart and take you with me,” I found myself saying to my cat Sherlock as I left on my walk.  What a lovely thought.  Where did it come from?

My sister in spirit at my church was diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor last week before Christmas.  I don’t know her well, but it doesn’t matter. I carry her in the pocket of my heart.

This is what we do when we hold vigil with someone.  We don’t become  them, but while living our own lives we keep them present.  We create a space in our being where our presence intersects with their presence.  A God space where both are free to be who they are while supported by each other’s spiritual energy.  Holding Vigil.

P.S. After I posted I bumped up against this gem passed to me by a soulfriend.  The last lines complete my thoughts.  Unless we give up the clutter there won’t be space for pocket presence.

Instructions

Give up the world, give up self, finally give up God.
Find god in rhododendrons and rocks,
passers-by, your cat.
Pare your beliefs, your absolutes
Make it simple; make it clean.
No carry-on luggage allowed.
Examine all you have
with a loving and critical eye, then
throw away some more
Repeat. Repeat.
Keep this and only this:
what your heart beats loudly for
what feels heavy and full in your gut.
There will only be one or two
things you will keep,
and they will fit lightly
in your pocket.

Poem: “Instructions” by Sheri Hostetler, from the anthology A Cappella: Memmoite Voices in Poetry”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Photo Credit:  http://www.123rf.com/photo_5608107_new-style-back-pockets.html

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This Time In Between

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I.

Now is the Time In Between
When the dissipated shards of last year
Crunch under the feet of the new year coming.
We watch couples stroll arm in arm in parks,
Their blithe children trailing on their Christmas bikes.
As we watch we muse
Over New Year’s resolutions
Scattered among the fragments of 2016

II.

The spent year spins a yarn
About hawking the common good
To the highest bidder
But it was also a year
In which lost conscience
Was found.

III.

Watchers no more, we resolve to sift the shards,
To separate life from death.
We choose Life for ouselves
And for blithe children playing.

© Rita H Kowats. 12-27-16

 

 

Photo Credit:   

A “SoulCard” by Deborah Koff-Chapin.  The technique Deborah has created is called “touch drawing.”  The  cards come in two decks of 60 images and can be used alone or with others as reflection tools.  They have enriched my meditation for years and have helped those I companion with.  www.soulcards.com

Used with permission from the artist

The Phoenix

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The Phoenix

Last night the Longest Night
Hunkered down into the comforting folds
Of darkness, holding light at bay
For just a few more seconds of incubation.

Today she commences
The season of sloughing
When her dark cocoon opens to light
Second by second until Daylight
Dazzles with sparks of the divine
Drawing her into soothing warmth
And the blast of the refiner’s fire.

© Rita H. Kowats 12-22-16

Photo Credit: Daniel Tran Cathedral of Light Sydney’s festival, Vivid Sydney

The Thaw

frozen-spider-web

 

The Thaw

 

Lifelines, once malleable networks of grace
Have become static tendrils stretched
In a circuitous highway to nowhere
No more kicks on route 66.

Lifelines freeze up without
Time, solitude and silence
To stoke the fire of grace
Waiting to thaw
The once intimate connections
Gone rigid with neglect.

Do you hear their call?

 

© Rita H Kowats 12-19-16

Anticipation

Christmas SoulSeam

 

Photo Credit:   

A “SoulCard” by Deborah Koff-Chapin.  The technique Deborah has created is called “touch drawing.”  The  cards come in two decks of 60 images and can be used alone or with others as reflection tools.  They have enriched my meditation for years and have helped those I companion with.  www.soulcards.com

Used with permission from the artist

Spiritual Spelunking

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I woke up at 2:00 a.m. with the Spirit knocking on the door of my unconscious.   I am unaware of having been dreaming, but a clear and precise message boomed out: “I can see water swimming in a cave.”

Here is how I have worked with it:

Spiritual Spelunking

Our bodies make their first journey out
Of the cave with reluctance to leave
The safe solitude of buoyant waters

Life moves on and away
From the startling solitude of caves
Yet our souls yearn to return
Not to be carried aloft by gentle waters
But to dive deep
Commingling
With the first drop.

© Rita H Kowats 12-14-16

 

photo credit: BlakeLewisPhotography <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/7838598@N06/27327710701″>Ruby Falls</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/”>(license)</a&gt;

One in our reading community suggested this article…fascinating connection!

http://thescienceexplorer.com/nature/oldest-water-earth-found-deep-within-canadian-shield

Don’t Let Your Light Go Out

the-darkness-grasps-it-not

In the Word was life,

And that life was humanity’s light

A Light that shines in the darkness,

A Light that the darkness has never overtaken.

 John 1:4

Don’t let your light go out.  Embrace it in the hollow of your hands until it flames and flickers sparks of hope.

The Remnant

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שְׁאָר‎‎

Isaiah 11:16
There will be a highway leading out of Assyria for the remnant of the people that is left, just as there was for Israel when it came up out of Egypt.

 

For Jen who summoned us with her “Up”

Hunkered down in this frigid forest of defeat
We cling to the last vestigages
Of light and warmth trying to remember
Who we once were.

What with the wailing and gnashing of teeth
(Not to mention the rending of garments)
We have forgotten the power of the Left Behind-
The holy remnant who diffuses the Light.

“Up with you!” comes the call.
Retrieving the pieces of our cast off garments
We rise. We begin.

© rita h kowats 12-8-2016

Check out Jen’s blog where you can feast on a treasue trove of thought beautifully crafted:

https://randomactsofwriting.wordpress.com

Waiting for a Green Blade

waiting-for-the-green-blade

 

It is 25 degrees F. in Seattle this morning.  The sheets of rain have given way to brilliant sunshine. I let loose a hopeful sigh that soon our spirits may shake off despair and emerge whole and enlightened.

 Messenger of Sight

I would send a raven to your window with a green blade
to show you the flood that blinded
is gone down and my eyes can see
the torn sinews of the impoverished
earth gasp in this white, winter light.

John O’Donohue in Echoes of Memory