This is a beautiful poem Aleesha. That pull of feeling disoriented and lost and how awful iot can seem, and the temptaiton to want to stay lost. I could never have phrased it so eloquently, but I feel like this so often. What a deep insight into one of the paradoxes of living in the world.
I wonder if, as children, we are more intuitively able to live in the mystery. But as an adult, I cling to certainty. I wish I could revel in that “lost” feeling like I once did
I hear you so well, Aleesha. The songwriter Greg Bown calls it "like a kid lost in the game"and compares it to a wolf howling for sheer delight. Feeing or being lost is frightening, especially as our constructs harden and solidify, even though it is soemtimes in the lost where we can find the most remarkable discoveries.
Ooh, yes. "The possibility of staying lost" - that hits SO well! I feel that speaks to the ultimate way of intuition in this world - and how we are, truly, inherently connected to it - rather than always following the prescribed operational procedures that can only take us so far.
Whatever we want more of, we'll find it staying lost.
That's so wonderful! I wonder what you've found in your contemplations since :) Thanks for bringing that to us!
I also just wanted to tell you that our brief dialogue here, and this thought, are the basis of my own poem today. I was reading through everyone's work, enjoying myself, but when I reflected to you, everything shifted.
Oh, this is exquisitely beautiful. Gorgeous writing - I love the way your words and contexts dance from line to line, but not too predictably. So many poignant questions you ask in the right timing. I just really love your observations and reflections here, and am grateful to experience them in turn. Thank you <3
The mystery, yes. It’s so uncomfortable but when the path behind you falls away, you have no choice but to take step by small step into the fog ahead. Love this ❤️
Indeed. It is uncomfortable. And yet, we are able to do it. I was thinking of the visual when I wrote it, but you've reminded me of the visceral experience. Transcendent? Transformative? one of those ...
Wow, Saoirse, this poem is an incredible pleasure to read, as has been true pretty much all the other days. I so love your consistency in your style, starting with a haiku each day and then taking us on such a wise, mystical journey.
For this particular experience, you took me simultaneously to Glastonbury - Avalon - and some place in Asia - perhaps the Himalayas. It felt mystical, careful, and intentional, masterfully guiding my vision to something new I needed to feel. I don't know - I'm very moved by this one today :) A treat.
I appreciate your careful reading. And the way in which you allow the poem to take you on a journey of your own. Love that it evoked a feeling. Every writer's dream.
(Unrelated: I once heard it taught that you could take all the fog covering a city on the foggiest day, and it would all fit inside a water bottle. I’m sure there’s a poem in there, the way something so vast and powerful is also small, but those words escape me)
Also just want to say, I see you with your occasional Hebrew, Steven, and I love it so much. I think my other comment on yours from a few days ago was accidentally deleted (so sadly!!!), but just wanted to tell you that Israel is a country near and dear to my heart, and I also tend to write about it often in some of my essays.
If ever you wish to revisit this place which means much to you as well, I believe, or have a discourse on it, both me and my writings (you can find them on this Substack too) are at your service <3 It would be a joy.
Oh so lovely. It's not clear to me who the "them" and "other" are here, but I receive your portrayal of the dichotomy with much love and am grateful for you to lead me through the fog.
I originally read one line as this complete sentence "diverse yet the same wonderfully created abundant goodness." Juxtaposing that against "getting past the fog" felt so powerful. Thank you!
So obvious, yet a really interesting observation. "Hiding life's colours." Nice! Making me contemplate the contrast of such a mystery with renewal and emergence. Thank you!
reading/discussing Rachel Held Evans' book Wholehearted Faith these days, which majors on vulnerability. Probably channeling some of her good work, conscious or no.
Whether to remain in the fog or not depends very much on the day, the moment. And probably has less to do with me than I'd like to consider.
As for what comes next? Looks like the seaside (says the expert deflector).
Haha, wisdom and aptly put response that I wholeheartedly appreciate <3
Interesting thoughts, thank you. I contemplate that. Though I'm still curious why remaining in the fog has less to do with you than you'd wish to believe ;)
This is a remarkable poem Sarah. "Nothing makes sense like it used to..." I love that and it feels so true so often. "LIfe life somehow goes on without you..." the depth of the reacihng, pondering, longing are so resoannt and so vivid in your words. Thank you!
"reaching / stretching / reaching" and "reaching / pouring / reaching" - these are such excellent movements in the context of the whole poem! Nice! Those really get me - I think you capture the perfect imperfection of the turning of life so well with that.
And also "the steam rising up from your cup will be the fog floating through the air once again" - yes!
This poem just hits me in all the right ways. Thank you, Trish! :)
I love these, Larry! I love how vulnerable and open you are with your creative process in these (not that they are necessarily continuations of each other).
I especially liked:
"River runs clear
fog obscures all that is near
present moment here"
YES! That feels like an exuberant declaration when one owns the truth there! :) Thank you!
Finally feeling more settled, back home with you all where it is clear I belong <3 Today's poem is actually inspired by Aleesha Hradoway and all her poem evoked in me. Thank you for that <3
This is magnificient Jillian! What power and stunning imagery. This verse towards the end:
"High on the misty mountain,
My loved one thousands of miles away,
I raise my face to the moon
And howl,
A wolf set free in the wilderness
At last"
HIts me deep in the heart. The howl a cry for longing and missing your loved one, and for the joyful ecstacy that often finds us out there.
The poem begins with with a step into a journey, and all that rises as we embark. And you weave us through the journey as companions and partners in seeking, being, listening, feeling. You have a knack for drawing a reader in and keeping them there until the end. Thank you!
Thank you so much for your incredibly generous reflection, Larry. It’s such a treasure and honor to receive.
I am so grateful for my words and work to be so seen, for you to catch different layers of the story being told here. I learn about my work - which stays so alive - through this observation as well.
Within the Fog
Swirling, rising, settling, obliterating any sense of direction or distance.
I stumble forward then back again.
Not sure which way to turn, where to go, or what to do.
Fully consumed by the fog of this day, these decisions, these choices, these reponsibilities.
So I stop to get my bearings,
To orient myself in the here and now,
And take my next small step.
Again, and again, and again.
Karri Temple Brackett
May 15, 2023
https://themarvelousandthemundane.com/2023/05/15/in-the-fog/
Sigh. I feel this so deeply at present. Even seeing it put to words helps and brings hope.
Love and prayers to you <3
Mmmmm. I find myself reorienting myself in the fog again and again and again as well
Small step by small step. This is a loving and lovely poem, one small liberation after another. Thanks for bringing it, Karri <3
This is so nice, Kari. Ah, the world is full of small steps!
When I was little
The fog would roll in so thick
Over my childhood town
That we could play hide and seek tag
In the wide open field
Back then
I actually felt a slight thrill
At the possibility
Of staying lost
In the heavy, palpable air
This is a beautiful poem Aleesha. That pull of feeling disoriented and lost and how awful iot can seem, and the temptaiton to want to stay lost. I could never have phrased it so eloquently, but I feel like this so often. What a deep insight into one of the paradoxes of living in the world.
I wonder if, as children, we are more intuitively able to live in the mystery. But as an adult, I cling to certainty. I wish I could revel in that “lost” feeling like I once did
I hear you so well, Aleesha. The songwriter Greg Bown calls it "like a kid lost in the game"and compares it to a wolf howling for sheer delight. Feeing or being lost is frightening, especially as our constructs harden and solidify, even though it is soemtimes in the lost where we can find the most remarkable discoveries.
Ooh, yes. "The possibility of staying lost" - that hits SO well! I feel that speaks to the ultimate way of intuition in this world - and how we are, truly, inherently connected to it - rather than always following the prescribed operational procedures that can only take us so far.
Whatever we want more of, we'll find it staying lost.
Thanks for this <3
I was thinking along similar lines when I wrote it this morning, I love that you caught that :)
That's so wonderful! I wonder what you've found in your contemplations since :) Thanks for bringing that to us!
I also just wanted to tell you that our brief dialogue here, and this thought, are the basis of my own poem today. I was reading through everyone's work, enjoying myself, but when I reflected to you, everything shifted.
Shared some additional commentary about it in today's post: https://jillianjoy.substack.com/p/day-15-fog?sd=pf
So, thank you doubly for all your words have given me today <3
On the feast of Saint Dymphna
The fog can be the thickest inside my mind.
Too many wrong turns, or right corners
around questions of why and why not,
knotted hair from the humidity surrounding
my shoulders, did you say something
to the sky or to the earth underneath
fingernails? Lifelines of dirt dusting my palms-
Am I a gardener or did I just fall headfirst
on the forest floor? If only the stars
would speak up but tonight’s clouds
haven’t cleared and I am still,
still as filtering moonlight.
Oh, this is exquisitely beautiful. Gorgeous writing - I love the way your words and contexts dance from line to line, but not too predictably. So many poignant questions you ask in the right timing. I just really love your observations and reflections here, and am grateful to experience them in turn. Thank you <3
You are always very kind with your comments, thank you so much 😊
It is sincerely my pleasure 😊 You’re so welcome.
Day Fifteen: Fog
a poem a day in the month of may
(The Liminality Journal: Kaitlin Curtice)
Sometimes the path fades
into a covering fog;
we see just this step.
***
Above the valley
a low bank of clouds
cover the mountain’s peak.
The mass of rock
emanates a brooding
invisible presence,
strength and power
of a deity
beyond human imagination,
A path rises
into the fog,
stone steps
ascending
into the mystery.
The steps below
fade from view,
the steps above
yet unseen.
Only this step remains,
the broad, flat stone
upon which I stand.
The mystery, yes. It’s so uncomfortable but when the path behind you falls away, you have no choice but to take step by small step into the fog ahead. Love this ❤️
Indeed. It is uncomfortable. And yet, we are able to do it. I was thinking of the visual when I wrote it, but you've reminded me of the visceral experience. Transcendent? Transformative? one of those ...
For me, it’s been my quarter-life crisis, I don’t have words yet that are more...eloquent 😅
Wow, Saoirse, this poem is an incredible pleasure to read, as has been true pretty much all the other days. I so love your consistency in your style, starting with a haiku each day and then taking us on such a wise, mystical journey.
For this particular experience, you took me simultaneously to Glastonbury - Avalon - and some place in Asia - perhaps the Himalayas. It felt mystical, careful, and intentional, masterfully guiding my vision to something new I needed to feel. I don't know - I'm very moved by this one today :) A treat.
I appreciate your careful reading. And the way in which you allow the poem to take you on a journey of your own. Love that it evoked a feeling. Every writer's dream.
You’re so welcome. The pleasure and delight are mutual :) I’m grateful for the ongoing chance to do so with such magnificent writing abound here 💗
faith is like a fog
sometimes heavy
sometimes light
and you can never quite grab it
(Unrelated: I once heard it taught that you could take all the fog covering a city on the foggiest day, and it would all fit inside a water bottle. I’m sure there’s a poem in there, the way something so vast and powerful is also small, but those words escape me)
This is so wonderful! Simple, pure. I love the way you observe.
And I love the little fun fact too! I bet it will be an explosively fun encounter if ever you write that poem :)
I love that anectdote--Alexandra. A poem waiting to be written!
fog and blindness hide
beauty and spirit of them
making them "other"
spirit clear the fog
make "them" come alive for me
and let me see my siblings
for we are the same
created of steadfast love
hesed unity
diverse yet the same
wonderfully created
abundant goodness
we need to get past
the fog and blindness carried
by our own egos
a painful process
letting go of biases
Lord in your mercy
Also just want to say, I see you with your occasional Hebrew, Steven, and I love it so much. I think my other comment on yours from a few days ago was accidentally deleted (so sadly!!!), but just wanted to tell you that Israel is a country near and dear to my heart, and I also tend to write about it often in some of my essays.
If ever you wish to revisit this place which means much to you as well, I believe, or have a discourse on it, both me and my writings (you can find them on this Substack too) are at your service <3 It would be a joy.
Oh so lovely. It's not clear to me who the "them" and "other" are here, but I receive your portrayal of the dichotomy with much love and am grateful for you to lead me through the fog.
I originally read one line as this complete sentence "diverse yet the same wonderfully created abundant goodness." Juxtaposing that against "getting past the fog" felt so powerful. Thank you!
"them" and "other" is not not me or us. Thank you
Creeping, softly, grey
Mysterious and cold
Hiding life's colours
So obvious, yet a really interesting observation. "Hiding life's colours." Nice! Making me contemplate the contrast of such a mystery with renewal and emergence. Thank you!
sleepwalking into monday
thick fog accompanies
blaming this
on a particular day
of the week
is
well
lame at best
an outright lie
more like
I can't see
and
more to the point
be seen
keep the fog rolling
Ooh, thank you for this vulnerability and honest accountability, Bob. Had to say that I definitely see that <3
I'm left wondering... do you wish to remain in the fog, or are there parts that have even some vision of what comes next?
Thanks!
reading/discussing Rachel Held Evans' book Wholehearted Faith these days, which majors on vulnerability. Probably channeling some of her good work, conscious or no.
Whether to remain in the fog or not depends very much on the day, the moment. And probably has less to do with me than I'd like to consider.
As for what comes next? Looks like the seaside (says the expert deflector).
Haha, wisdom and aptly put response that I wholeheartedly appreciate <3
Interesting thoughts, thank you. I contemplate that. Though I'm still curious why remaining in the fog has less to do with you than you'd wish to believe ;)
In any case, thank goodness for the seaside <3
Fog by Vivienne:
Everything we find are mysteries today
A frog tries to find his way out of the fog
Tuesday the rat is very fat
But she got lost in the forest today
This cloud of fog is long today
It’s even longer than the stories we say
Fog may be beautiful for some people like me
Fog is like a pool from all the water it has
Clouds are very good for the earth
Because it gives water to plants to drink
"Everything we find are mysteries today" OOF.
Well done, Vivienne, as always. I just love the way she goes for it; it's really a gift to us all :)
Fog
Can't see it its just not there.
Like puffs of smoke covering everything.
You try to see through the fog but it's too thick, each day it gets thicker.
Blindness has caused so much pain.
Each day the fog gets thicker the more hopelessness sets in.
A smokey veil over the land,
No amount of sunlight can burn off the fog.
Hate is the fog that has set in.
Love has to be the sunlight, but the light dims each day.
When will the sun rise?
✌️ the waiting sucks.
Fog rolls in, thick and sudden
water vapors, condensed
hang heavy in the air, like weeks,
months, even years suspended
when death unravels life
Nothing makes sense like
it used to, an inversion
of cold air, chills and
stills our bodies like
only death can do
Ground clouds obscure
the horizon, even though
it’s always there, like life
somehow goes on without you
are unseen but still there
The path ahead is hazy,
humble with uncertain
ground, I sound my
fog horn, I don’t know where
I am, still here and it will clear
Sometimes all you can do is lay on the fog horn.
This is a remarkable poem Sarah. "Nothing makes sense like it used to..." I love that and it feels so true so often. "LIfe life somehow goes on without you..." the depth of the reacihng, pondering, longing are so resoannt and so vivid in your words. Thank you!
Fog
The fog gently floats
across the mountainside
in uneven patches of white.
At some point, the fog
will begin
to move upward,
reaching,
stretching,
reaching,
until it joins the
mass of clouds in the sky
hovering over the mountain.
Perhaps one day
one of those clouds
will begin
to reach downward,
reaching,
pouring,
reaching,
until it becomes the
water you drink in your tea.
And the steam rising up
from your cup
will be the fog
floating through the air
once again.
"reaching / stretching / reaching" and "reaching / pouring / reaching" - these are such excellent movements in the context of the whole poem! Nice! Those really get me - I think you capture the perfect imperfection of the turning of life so well with that.
And also "the steam rising up from your cup will be the fog floating through the air once again" - yes!
This poem just hits me in all the right ways. Thank you, Trish! :)
how did we describe clouds descending
onto fields and rivers before 1544?
what words did they use?
moist (gross), damp (ew), misty (better).
twenty years later this meteorological
phenomenon shape-shifted into a metaphor
for how I felt stumbling through those first
sleepless months when everything was blurry,
a hazy reality where days and nights
blended until one day the sun broke though.
This is quite nice. I like the graceful shift from past to present and the power of the sun breaking through. These lines are so nice:
twenty years later this meteorological
phenomenon shape-shifted into a metaphor
for how I felt stumbling through those first
sleepless months when everything was blurry,
a hazy reality where days and nights
blended until one day the sun broke though."
Thank you, Larry!
Oh, wonderful! I agree with Larry - the shift from past to present is excellent, so clear like the sun that brings us through.
The fact that you connected such a big timeline, from 1544, is masterful! I love it :)
Thank you so much, Jillian!
you're not flying blind,
you just can't see.
don't freak out.
trust your instruments, asserts jesus,
better blessings are in store
for those who believe without seeing.
(MSG)
Thank you Kaitlin. I like the opportunity to try Haiku.
Fog
The fog is a Gof
like God is a Dog unleashed
deeper truth revealed.
River runs clear
fog obscures all that is near
present moment here.
The fog of war wears
our heart and souls to the core
dark revolution
Lean into music
our song turns to symphony
each note a blessing.
I love these, Larry! I love how vulnerable and open you are with your creative process in these (not that they are necessarily continuations of each other).
I especially liked:
"River runs clear
fog obscures all that is near
present moment here"
YES! That feels like an exuberant declaration when one owns the truth there! :) Thank you!
Still learning the formatting. This was meant to be four different haikus, not one rambling haiku style poem!
Finally feeling more settled, back home with you all where it is clear I belong <3 Today's poem is actually inspired by Aleesha Hradoway and all her poem evoked in me. Thank you for that <3
.
Fog
Whatever you need,
No matter where you will go,
Find it staying lost
.
That light cracks over the horizon,
You take a step,
Plunging in,
You’re been here before,
But not quite this way,
And the waters are uncharted.
.
The thing is,
This could be a fairy tale,
What was it that said you couldn’t be
Youthful and
Wonderful and
Ecstatic?
What was it that said
This wasn’t my legacy and
I wasn’t a magician
Here?
.
I gaze out,
Thinking quietly,
Grey forever, until the end.
This air is still, misty,
My jacket grows damp as I linger.
This might be the end,
However long it may be,
But…
It’s not so obvious.
And I can’t trace my footsteps,
Neither back nor ahead,
Yet still the path welcomes me…
.
High on the misty mountain,
My loved one thousands of miles away,
I raise my face to the moon
And howl,
A wolf set free in the wilderness
At last
.
Whatever we want more of,
We’ll find it staying lost.
This is magnificient Jillian! What power and stunning imagery. This verse towards the end:
"High on the misty mountain,
My loved one thousands of miles away,
I raise my face to the moon
And howl,
A wolf set free in the wilderness
At last"
HIts me deep in the heart. The howl a cry for longing and missing your loved one, and for the joyful ecstacy that often finds us out there.
The poem begins with with a step into a journey, and all that rises as we embark. And you weave us through the journey as companions and partners in seeking, being, listening, feeling. You have a knack for drawing a reader in and keeping them there until the end. Thank you!
Thank you so much for your incredibly generous reflection, Larry. It’s such a treasure and honor to receive.
I am so grateful for my words and work to be so seen, for you to catch different layers of the story being told here. I learn about my work - which stays so alive - through this observation as well.
Blessings 💗