watercolor by Neil Waldman
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
from Trees by Joyce Kilmer
a tree is a prayer during the pandemic
branchia that looks at God each day…
09 Apr 2020 Leave a comment
in branchia that looks at God each day..., Poetry Tags: A nest of robins in her hair, a tree is a prayer during the pandemic, A tree that looks at God each day, a tree that may in summer wear, and lefts her leafy arms to pray, branchia that looks at God each day..., Trees by Joyce Kilmer, watercolor by Neil Waldman
against the earth’s sweet flowing breast
08 Apr 2020 Leave a comment
in against the earth's sweet flowing breast, Poetry Tags: a sense of not getting enough, A tree whose hungrey mouth is prest, against the earth's sweet flowing breast, Against the easrth's sweet flowing breast, anxious, coronavirus, Geneen Roth, grace, highly charged time, I think that I shall never see a poem lovely as a tree, leads to hoarding, Naming and normalizing the feelings passing through, no turning to food for comfort, our life has changes, panicked, patterns and behaviors, scared, shelter in place, take time to see whats good, Trees by Joyce Kilmer, watercolor by Will Hillenbrand, wisdon calm
watercolor by Will Hillenbrand
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;
Trees by Joyce Kilmer
Dear Ones,
This is an extraordinary moment in time, our lives, our histories. And her stories. The coronavirus has stopped us in our tracks—many of us are sheltering in place, many of our events have been cancelled. Many businesses are shut down. Life as we came to know it has shifted dramatically. We’re all being affected either by how we are physically feeling (some of us are not well), lack of childcare, being told to stay inside. There are countless ways life has changed. And we can meet this moment with grace, wisdom, calm. And without turning to food for comfort!
This kind of major world-event can induce panic and panic can induce old patterns from childhood: the sense of not getting or having enough, and therefore wanting or needed to hoard whatever is hoard-able. (Of course, just like a chocolate sundae doesn’t cure the deep-seated loneliness, hoarding or bingeing doesn’t cure anything. You could have a closet full of chocolate — or toilet paper:) — and still be anxious, scared, panicked). So it’s only normal, only natural that these patterns come up now during this highly charged time.
On Saturday, April 11th, I will be doing a free call during which I’ll be speaking about many patterns and behaviors—becoming aware of what’s not helpful and what is helpful right now. Here is a partial list of what I will be addressing:
• Not blaming yourself is crucial. Disengaging from that inner judge. Now.
• If you haven’t been practicing kindness, it’s not too late. You can live as if you know what kindness is.
• Remembering (by listening) what your body wants, needs. If you don’t know, you can start now. Nourishing foods. Hot foods. Foods that give you energy, rather than take it away.
• Becoming aware of—and questioning—old voices. Old patterns. “You are unworthy.” “You will never get or have enough.” “You are unlovable.” “You’ve blown it and now there is no going back.”
• Naming and normalizing the feelings that are passing through. Allowing everything that is here without getting swallowed up by scary stories about it.
• Taking time every single day, many times a day to see what’s good. What you already have enough of.
This Extraordinary Moment:
Compulsion and Kindness in the Time of Corona
Date: Saturday, April 11, 2020
Time: 1:00 PM US Pacific Time
To find your local time, use this TIme Zone Converter
I’d love to hear from you before Saturday with your questions and anything else you’d like me to address. I will read them all and do my best to answer them. Send your questions to me at: AskGeneen@GeneenRoth.com
Please join me on Saturday. I so look forward to connecting with you.
With love,
Geneen Roth
the bronchia tree in the lungs
07 Apr 2020 Leave a comment
in Poetry, the bronchia tree in the lungs Tags: a tree that lifts its leafy arms, Gray Tree in the mist, I shall never see a poem as lovely as a tree, Neil Waldman, the bronchia tree in the lungs, with oxygen
Neil Waldman’s Gray Tree in the mist
I think that I shall never see a poem as lovely as a tree
A tree that lifts its leafy arms…
…with oxygen
My First Golden Shovel Poem
05 Apr 2020 Leave a comment
in My First Golden Shovel Poem, Poetry Tags: 4/5/2020, I choose to wear the holy sanctuary, Jeanne, light, My First Golden Shovel Poem, my most sacred robe, Power, Quicksilver, strength, the arc of the covenent
Sanctuary in Christ Church, Hudson NY showing Mother Eileen in her vestment
Exterior of Christ Episcopal Church in Hudson NY
The Golden Shovel or the last word of every line is a sentence
The sentence:
Wear the sanctuary, the arc of the covenant, as your robe, strength, light, and power.
Poem:
Of all I choose to wear
I choose the
holy sanctuary
whose tent carries the arc of the covenant,
my most sacred robe,
strength
light
power!
shovel poem by Jeanne
Quicksilver 4/5/2020
the golden shovel
04 Apr 2020 Leave a comment
in Poetry, the golden shovel Tags: 1981, a tune is born of outrage, approachlessness, Berkshire School, bloodshot men, cruise, Don Share, Gwendolyn Brooks, his sin, If I should die before I wake, Jan Hutchinson, jazz, moonlit lawns, rap, smooth as wood, strike her son in the face, Terrence Hayes, the golden shovel, We Real Cool, wounded
The Golden Shovel
The following is written by Jan Hutchinson:
The Golden Shovel is a poetic form readers might not — yet — be “familiar
with. It was devised recently by Terrance Hayes in homage to Gwendolyn
Brooks…. The last words of each line in a Golden Shovel poem are, in
order, words from a line or lines taken often, but not invariably, from a
Brooks poem. The results of this technique can be quite different in
subject, tone, and texture from the source poem, depending upon the
ingenuity and imagination of the poet who undertakes to compose one.
(Don Share)
Here is the original poem by Gwendolyn Brooks. I heard her read it at Berkshire
School in Sheffield, Massachusetts only weeks before she died. She read it once
like jazz and again as rap. She’d had already suffered a stroke and was wobbly
but sharp as a tack:
We Real Cool
The pool players.
Seven at the Golden Shovel.
We real cool. We
Left school. We
Lurk late. We
Strike straight. We
Sing sin. We
Thin gin. We
Jazz June. We
Die soon.
(Try reading this so it is a rap. Watch the tempo.)
(Then try reading it as jazz. play the sax.)
Here is Terrance Hayes’ first Golden Shovel poem:
The Golden Shovel
I. 1981
When I am so small Da’s sock covers my arm, we
cruise at twilight until we find the place the real
men lean, bloodshot and translucent with cool.
His smile is a gold-plated incantation as we
drift by women on bar stools, with nothing left
in them but approachlessness. This is a school
I do not know yet. But the cue sticks mean we
are rubbed by light, smooth as wood, the lurk
of smoke thinned to song. We won’t be out late.
Standing in the middle of the street last night we
watched the moonlit lawns and a neighbor strike
his son in the face. A shadow knocked straight
Da promised to leave me everything: the shovel we
used to bury the dog, the words he loved to sing
his rusted pistol, his squeaky Bible, his sin.
The boy’s sneakers were light on the road. We
watched him run to us looking wounded and thin.
He’d been caught lying or drinking his father’s gin.
He’d been defending his ma, trying to be a man. We
stood in the road, and my father talked about jazz,
how sometimes a tune is born of outrage. By June
the boy would be locked upstate. That night we
got down on our knees in my room. If I should die
before I wake. Da said to me, it will be too soon.
Terrance Hayes
after Gwendolyn Brooks
I’m going to try my first golden shovel poem tonight. See you tomorrow!
April Fools Day
01 Apr 2020 Leave a comment
in April Fools Day, Poetry Tags: a fool's fact, ah fib, Alphabet Majuscules, April Fools Day, fastball, George Plimpton, his future, hoaxes, Jeanne, jokes, opulent life style, pitcher, recluse, Sidd Finch, subtltle, yogi
Alphabelt Majuscules by Jeanne
Today is April Fools’ Day, a day of hoaxes and practical jokes the world over.
In the April issue of Sports Illustrated in 1985, George Plimpton reported that the New York Mets had recruited a phenomenal young pitcher who had learned his craft in a Tibetan monastery. The pitcher’s name was Sidd Finch, and he could throw a 168-mile-per-hour fastball. Plimpton buried a clue in the article’s subtitle: “He’s a pitcher, part yogi and part recluse. Impressively liberated from our opulent life-style, Sidd’s deciding about yoga — and his future in baseball.” The first letter of each word spelled out “Happy April Fools’ Day — ah fib.”
(It is “a fib” a lie-a falsehood- a trick-a misdirection- a hoax, a fool’s fact-
a fast-ball)
complete forgiveness
31 Mar 2020 Leave a comment
in complete forgiveness, Poetry Tags: act to its rhythm, agenda, alive, believe it is given, blend, character defect, complete forgiveness, Dear Q, family advises, forgive, harmony, impetuously, mow them down, pandemic, proxy, sage advice, sage family, sorry, steam-roller, the wiser side, think before jumping, warning me
Dear Q
I am sorry I turned my back on you.
Frustrated you beyond measure by not listening to your sage advice.
You shared the data needed to be my proxy.
You shared to keep me alive in the pandemic.
I forgive you for claiming that I do what I want and not what my family advises.
That I choose my agenda, in spite of you.
Instead you ask me to avoid acting impetuously.
Many friends have asked me
“not to be a steam-roller.”
“not to mow them down”.
Wish I could weed out this unruly character defect.
Yes, I promise to think before jumping.
To imagine you warning me.
To hesitate and consider the wiser side.
To embrace my sage daughter and my sage family
and BLEND.
Then we will both know complete forgiveness
Believe it is given
And act to its rhythm
in HARMONY!
Time
30 Mar 2020 Leave a comment
in Poetry, Time is not my servant... Tags: books poems, but my camera, cartoons, creative ideas, dance whirl, divinity, flow, flying static on the face of time, human path, illustrations, marches, menu, minute, nano second, not a caricature, nutritional s=delights, prickles in the snow, records my outfit my shoes and socks, robot, still and animated, Time is not my servant..., works of art
Time is not my servant
Time is not my servant
but my camera.
It records my outfit of the day
my shoes and socks
my chosen menu
and nutritional delights.
my creative ideas
and works of art:
illustrations
books
poems
cartoons (framed and free)
(still and animated).
time is not a caricature
but a robot.
it marches
never morphs.
I flow
dance and whirl around through the minutes
flying static
on the face of time.
it is not my servant, but a camera
of my human path to divinity
every day
every minute, every nano second
prickles in the snow!
quicksilver
social distancing
29 Mar 2020 Leave a comment
in Poetry, social distancing Tags: and claw your chest, cat by Byron Schachner, see kitten leap through the pail, social distancing, stand =on his head, try playing pot-sy with this pale
cat by J Byron Schachter
try playing pot-sy with this pail
see kitten leap through the pail
stand on his head
and claw your chest!
changing the energy of the pandemic
27 Mar 2020 Leave a comment
in changing the energy of the pandemic, Poetry Tags: a life giving way, a reality, Caroline Myss, changing the energy, holy language, languge of the soul, potency, pure grace, the wirds you use impact, transformation, unreasonable, voltage, you create
https://www.myss.com/were-all-in-new-territory-video/
Caroline Myss
You talk to yourself more than anyone else. The words you use impact every part of yourself.
How you speak to yourself results in you creating, and recreating a reality.
Every word we use packs a creative punch.
I want to give you a word. We go from mental language – what I realized is that we need holy language.
Mental language doesn’t have any voltage.
Holy language is where we want to be. Holy language is the language of the soul. It has grace to it. It has potency.
It’s UNreasonable.
It carries light.
It carries that quality of potency.
That moves within us in a life giving way.
It’s the language of inner transformation. So, I’m going to give you a word today that is pure grace.
The Vibrant Channeled Creator 