April 26, 2022
By Amba Gale
This is a time for new beginnings.
Each morning, I give myself a new beginning, consciously, intentionally, gratefully.
In his book, Consolations, David Whyte says, “Beginning well involves a clearing away of the crass, the irrelevant, and the complicated to find the beautiful, often hidden lineament of the essential and the necessary.”
I “begin well” by gifting myself each day with a morning practice, a practice where, in my chair, in my “poetry corner,” I create ways of settling into silence.
Here, I find peace within, and the gift of experiencing life as a blessing. Poetic words, as well, start to come through. And, my intuition clarifies and makes simple matters that were troubling me when I sat down. And, when I reach that place of quiet, where I can listen to the silence beneath all sounds, a joy starts to rise in me, a joy that isn’t related to anything external. It already lives within, waiting to be recognized, perhaps, even, waiting to be, and to be expressed.
In what I say here to you, I do not intend to land with you, or sound to you, either ignorant, unaware of the external circumstances of the world, or with a lack of compassion. Indeed, each day I cultivate compassion for those of us who feel the weight of loss, illness, violence, financial challenges, and, even, the ravages war.
Still, when we can be responsible for our care of our spirit and our heart, we can bring our own light to both ourselves, and others. And, perhaps, that is just the work that we are being invited to do, putting our arms around ourselves, and those we meet, and bringing our light into the world.
As a Hopi Elder said to his people: “We are the ones we have been waiting for.”
Sitting with Myself
By Amba Gale
Let the warm tea
across your tongue.
Let your eyes fall gently
upon the cat on his back,
carrying the brightly lit fire.
Let the sun sparkles to your right
remind you that you live near water
on blessed land.
Let your mind’s eye take you
to just the other day,
when you and your daughter gazed
out the window where
five seals cavorted
one with fin and tail in the air,
the current carrying
their sleek sweet bodies
and bobbing heads
as they surrendered to the rocking of the sea.
Sometimes, the barks of the seals
in the morning
greet me as I first open my eyes.
Sometimes, the joy that I feel is too large for my body to contain.
Sometimes, I just want to
sit with myself,