Hey everybody! How are you all doing today?
Today, fog (which keeps wanting to be dog, so I’ll acknowledge it ;D).
This poem actually means so much to me, especially after the journey of coming to it, which was simple but different from the days until now.
I’ve said it before, but I wish to say it again and again: I am so grateful for the community of incredible poets and folks who have been showing up every day to take part in this journey. There is so much clear wisdom, so much generous sharing, and an unbelievable amount of vulnerability for what it is we’re actually doing here.
It’s been a distinct and essential aspect of this experience to read through the other poems and reflect back. This helps me capture additional aspects of their words, share my own wisdom, and generally catalyze the living poetry - my own included - flowing abundantly on these webpages.
I haven’t had the time to do that as I’ve wished the last two days with all the intense and beautiful things happening in my life, but today, I got to “go back home” and marinate in all the beauty on today’s poem thread.
And wow, I’m grateful for the particular support I got today, because it directly helped me uncover the insight that shaped my entire poem.
Whatever we want more of, we’ll find it staying lost.
This is what I reflected on Aleesha Hradoway’s poem (who is, btw, sharing her own brilliant writing on her publication,
), and it struck me deeper and deeper afterwards.This thought is actually incredibly liberating. Lost as a choice. Never mind the component there of our desires playing a role in that decision - if lost is a choice, is, then, lost really lost?
I’ve shared bits and pieces of the fear journey I’ve been leading myself through, navigating that edge with honesty and respect. That’s been such medicine. There is a lot of fear in my life, inherently, as a characteristic of my energy, and I consider it a badass opportunity of mastery.
Of course, there is a path to mastery, and a lot - heavy, enthusiastic, and otherwise - I’ve been telling myself about that path.
But what happens if I fully take today’s medicine, choosing lost? What if I, respectfully, set it all aside and cultivate pleasure, delight, and maybe, heck, glee for and in the experience of all this fog?
What about looking to the example of our children, and running laughing - maybe naked - through endless cornfields in the misty morning with no need for navigation or destination, without even clarity?
Somehow, some places, all we need are spark and spirit.
Sometimes, we really should just drop it, stay in the mud a while, and play.
As a child, I could always play forever out in the woods around our house. Maybe this is a good time to remember that.
Blessings, all <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.
I love that part of your practice with the poetry prompts is to go deeper with reflection, and add the reflection of how it’s hitting you as you read with your particular lens.
I love being on substack, what a great community. Thanks for sharing 😊