Listening

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There is a Secret One/
inside us,/ 
the planets in 
all the galaxies/
pass through 
his/her hands 
like beads.

That string of beads/
one should look at/
with luminous eyes.

-Kabir

Dear Seized Readers,

Do you struggle to stay sane during the harried holiday season? I certainly do. My patience and mental balancing skills are taxed as I busy myself with decorating, hosting, cooking and baking, donating and serving. These holiday traditions bring me joy. The difficulty is that I attempt them all during one month, December. Add shopping to the list and the bumper-to-bumper traffic that accompanies my maniacal dashing from store to store, and I’ve created the conditions for my personal perfect storm, to use a cliché.

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I combat a likely descent into chaos by starting each day with centering down. We don’t have to be religious to benefit from being still and focusing our attention inward. Centering down shares similarities with the practice of meditating. By being still and stilling our racing minds, we can reach a level of calm and discernment not available to us when we are multitasking or hurrying.

We listen to our inner selves. We connect to our centers, our heartbeats. This can steer our minds to peace, a calm that stabilizes us in the midst of the frantic pace of our daily lives.

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Listening can also lead to a sense of wonder and connect us to the sacred.

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In this time of extreme voices and vitriol, we can discover the quiet, universal mystery living within ourselves and the great cosmos accessible to us. As the Indian mystic, Kabir, wrote, each of us can find our anchor, a Secret One. The universes inside us, he emphatically writes, should be looked at with luminous eyes. I love this description. For me, the word luminous conveys not only physical brightness but spiritual enlightenment.

To take this idea a step further, we can connect our inner selves to what we see and hear outside of us, especially nature—to experiences such as stargazing, hearing the wind lapping the last leaves of hickories and oaks which may remind us of ocean waves continuously pulled by the moon onto shore. Nature can renew our spirits.

In today’s poem, “Winter Vespers,” notice what happens as I carry out a nightly chore.

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Winter Vespers                                

Ash and cedar sear,/ 
crackle in the grate./

Earlier, you ploughed 
the wheelbarrow/ 
through swampy yard/
after a night 
of constant rain,/
heaved chopped timber
from a blue-tarped pile,/
sloshed back/
to our sheltered patio./

Evening comes,/ 
and I take the dog 
out one last time./

In the woods/
a frost-fire sizzles–/
icicles pop like logs/ 
splitting in blue flames./  

And I, on this earthly side/ 
of the veil,/ 
listen./ 

-Diana Ewell Engel

Photo by Monika Grabkowska on Unsplash

The Bleak Winter Yard as Sanctuary

I keep re-learning that the sacred will find me in the most ordinary of places if I will only look and listen.

At first blush, this poem seems to be only descriptive. I am detailing my husband’s work in building a hearth fire. To make this scene vivid, I intentionally chose nouns, verbs and adjectives that create sound, visual, and even tactile images— sear, crackle in the grate, ploughed, swampy yard, heaved chopped timber, blue-tarped pile, sloshed, frost-fire sizzles, splitting in blue flames.

The poem’s turn happens in the last three lines: “And I, on this earthly side / of the veil, / listen.”

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A turn in a poem does what it implies: It turns our attention elsewhere, to a connected thought or reality, often a surprise. This is the gift of poem-making. As we write and listen deeply to our thoughts, we can be led to a glimmer of beauty or mystery or a sudden, new recognition of something profound or meaningful.

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As I stood outside on a winter night, the darkness and quiet of the woods took over. I discerned a spiritual world alive in the sound of icicles cracking and falling. In choosing the phrase, “on this earthly side of the veil,” I’m signaling that a world exists beyond what my human eyes and ears can perceive … and so, I selected the word vespers which means evening prayers to be part of my poem’s title. Our yard became a place of reverence, a kind of withered grass chapel.

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Write to Uncover Surprise

When we write about our experiences, we discover what we think and feel. This, in and of itself, can be revealing.

While outside, I intuited that something more was happening than the sound of icicles breaking. However, I couldn’t conceptualize this event until I put it into words. Writing this poem led to a gift for me: I realized that I had felt the existence of the spiritual world.

I encourage you to write about your experiences in whatever form works for you: Write a poem, a reflection, keep a journal, expand your thoughts into an essay. Don’t fuss about the quality of your writing. Just get your words down. Then look to see what they reveal.

Writing leads often to unexpected surprises.

Photo by Diana Ewell Engel

A Path to Joy

During this hectic season, take time to be still and find your sense of peace. Reclaim yourself: You may discover that you live more joyfully in all of your holiday moments, even the stressful ones.

Joyeux Noël!

-Diana