Complexity, Day 25
almost there...
Complexity, it seems, may be the word of our time— or maybe not—who knows?
I feel it, though: a lot of complexity, questions, considerations, over so many things—the little, tiny things, and the huge, looming things, too. Complexity is everywhere.
So I can’t wait to read your poems on this, but before we get there, I want to let you know that I have a new offering for paid subscribers that I really, really love: writing sessions!
If you’re a writer, hope to be a writer, think you might be a writer, or just need space to play with words, this online writing session is for you. I joined a few of my paid subscribers earlier this week, and our time together was organic, kind, and expansive, holding space for whatever shows up in us.
So, if you want to bring a bit more writing space to your life, please consider becoming a paid subscriber and join us for some upcoming sessions. Can’t wait to see you there!
Now, the poetry!
I need somewhere to ask all these questions because they never seem to to leave, always coming back for more, never letting me find any kind of rest. I need something that will hold me steady as I twist and turn words and ideas and embodiments around, asking what they really and truly mean. I need someone to remind me of who I am, as I change under every kind of circumstance, as I become someone new moment to moment in ways I never even expected. I need some way to hold the space for myself and for those asking big questions too, some way for us to feel safe to ask them, and to hold each other up as the world shakes and shakes and shakes with complexity.
After an hour on the internet
I laced my shoes up
And went outside.
There were so many shades of green,
So many edges and textures,
Such depth and dimension.
The birds and the wasps had something to say,
And the River taught me to breathe again.
The complexity of the web of life
Reminds me how to be human again.
Complexity
If it were an intricate association
of related things, meant
to keep us safe,
then “complex” might be
a rabbit trail worth chasing;
but, far too often,
it’s more like a shape-shifting goal
that’s wholly unattainable,
constantly dangling before us
like a greyhound’s lure,
not only uncatchable,
but also not worth reaching.
You can keep almost all
of the complexities
the world offers.
The only one I’m interested in
is the complexity of our souls,
that unfold before us,
begging only for our attention.
THIS is the beautiful complex
toward which I want to lean.