All Shall Be Well

I am eerily reminded this week of my experience during Hurricane Sandy in 2012. Hunkered down here in my little house without power for days, the whole world seemingly stalled and subdued. There was no work and no technology, the roads were strangely as quiet as the airwaves. And no one knew how long it would last or how bad it might get.

At first, there was the natural reaction to kick against what I could not control. Worry and fret. Freak out. But then a calm settled in, a different pace than the norm, a day guided by the rising and setting of the sun.

Looking back now, I remember those quiet, restful days as blessings.

So here we are — on the edge of a storm we’re watching overtake everything we know as normal. And we are freaking out.

But the Universe is sending messages, if you listen. She’s there in the poem “Pandemic,” that Lynn Unger was inspired to write this week.

She’s in our daily prayers, if you are inclined, like me, to whisper on occasion:

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

She even showed up yesterday morning in my meditation reading:

“We must except we are there and settled enough so we can be carried by the deep. The willingness to do this is the genesis of faith, the giving over to currents larger than us. Even fallen leaves float in lakes, demonstrating how surrender can hold us up…. In life as in water, when we curl up or flail we sink. When we spread and go still, we are carried by the largest sea if all: the sea of grace that flows steadily beneath the turmoil of events.” — Mark Nepo, The Book of Awakening

So listen for those messages.

Pay attention.

Do the things you need to do to stay safe and healthy.

Get rest.

Breathe.

“Just as fish can’t see the ocean they live in,” writes Nepo, “We can’t quite see the spirit that sustains us.” But it’s there.

The Obscurity of This Week’s Words

The obscurity of this week’s words

should be called

Revisting the Nut Museum

because

there are dead animals hanging off the side of your house

Damn it. And

oh pish posh…

Socialism Hurts: Pray

pray because

Jesus Falls the First Time is so illuminatingly clever it should be a poem

except

the poets are full-moonish today

and we’re about to be

ambushed by a room full of cat ladies

But I do

love Pops atop dunes

Hey!

Is that moonshine in your back seat?

Whooooo cooks for me!
Whooooo cooks for me!

Words spoken, written, or glimpsed in the past week. Get over it. ©2019, Jen Payne. IMAGE: Nutcracker by Jim Dine, 1973.

No Surprise in the Surprise of It

Yesterday I awoke with a start well before sunrise. I tossed this way and turned that way and tucked my head farther and farther under the covers until I’d had enough and turned on the light for the day. It was no surprise then, as I was taking my first sip of coffee, that a wispy spider crawled out of my hair and down my arm. I nodded my head in both greeting and agreement that this was, of course, what would happen next. Those wiggly thoughts incarnated with more than enough legs to step all over my remaining sanity.

Musings ©2019, Jen Payne. Image by Hinke Schreuders. For more visit: www.sudsandsoda.com.