Tag Archives: permaculture

Life Cycles

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There is no part, no particle,
no path of life
moving in the over-under cycle —
down, down to the depths of brown,
up, up in springing green —
which is not held in Love, 
and so attended,
profoundly celebrated in its present state,
wherever it may stand along the circle.

There is no end
to the bold, exploring,
pioneering edge of life
which leads with eager interest
and is fed
with all the newness
that rewards its rapt attention,
cascading and rising,
flowing and turning,
round and round the cycle,
ever free.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 14, 2013


Foundational Principles

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My life depends
on my getting this right.
Not as in
I’ll die if I don’t
so much as that
I live when I do,
really live.

Which means that life itself
will thrive around me
and give me life
just as I give to it,
And I will move within the brightness
of the being that fulfills me —
brings out my essence
as I bring it forth.

It is given
that I’ll get it right,
If not in every case,
at least in moments,
which then must grow
till they’re the only kind —
the bracing breath
on which my life depends.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 11, 2013


Development

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Let rain wash around my stones,
Let wind drop fallen leaves
along my fences,
Let the gathered nutrient
from all my edges
call forth ever richer
teaming life

Build up my attention along contour
so what flows to me slows down,
Drops its gift to my receiving gratitude
Let me take the time to soak it in

There is no end
to the permission Life gives
and the ever-presence
of its care,
Its willingness to bless
gives rise to ever new recurrences
of the splendid circle
where all the living things
resound in bliss.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 8, 2013


Cleansing

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I’ve been foiled by this lie before:
The curling worm cringes in
and the fleeing form
sinks down —
This is flight mode,
hide mode,
play dead mode —

It is very effective:
If I try to pry it up
it goes all slidey,
try to lift it and it shrinks back down
The more I try to get it out
the more I am enmired

But I will not give up
If I can’t engage it
(and I can’t)
Then I will flood it out
Flood it with the consciousness
of every tiny, perfect life form,
every act of love under the soil,
every handclasp, every trust,
and all the harmony inherent
in the turnings of the sky,
let those fill me up
so there’s no room
for any lie.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 4, 2013


Not what we thought

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We are the beings who fly
with our minds,
the ones who see the underlying patterns,
expressions of the matrix
of all the rolling powers,
everything that moves
in the stately flow
afforded by eternity,
infinitely fast or slow,
ineffable

We are the beings who find the fulcra
where the patterns turn,
and with our understanding,
we can touch them
so they bloom
into ever more involved unfoldment
Not hemmed in by these,
the temporary forms we thought defined us,
not condemned to stumble blind
amid the powers that bind us

We are the beings who ride,
standing, reins in hand,
down the face of nature’s spirals
Let us remember
We are not helpless,
not what we thought.
When we hold strong
in humbleness and service,
We’re so much more.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 2, 2013


Earth Song

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Hush, hush,
Let yourself curl
in and in along the folding currents
of yourself,
in that weightless place
from whence you came,
in the inner infinite,
until you hear
a murmuring of waves

This is the song
the earth sings to herself,
in the depths of her continental shelves,
in the swinging of her tides
and the slow shifting at the molten edges
of her plates

Trees reprise it to their sleeping seeds,
in reaching roots, in weathered memories;
Winds take up its refrain 
as warm air slides up sensually 
along the sinking bank of cool;
Rills whisper it to rivulets
which join in choruses of creeks
which fall to streams
which roar in rivers —
ever-present hum of life
reminding us
where we come from
and where we gratefully, unerringly 
return.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 1, 2013


Art and Song

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Even art,
even song
Rise up from the joy of perfect systems,
echoes of the primal dance of oneness
which everything that thrives
must celebrate

Or in its absence
Art and song reach forth
like species pioneers
beneath the damaged soil
and spread their green above
to help restore that primal dance again.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 26, 2013


After you wake up

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After you wake up
you no longer see the point
of doing things senselessly,
of hauling your water uphill,
and making children sit
like monoculture rows of plants,
not touching, on the classroom rug.

And you no longer can be made
to spray the space between them
with things that kill all other plants
and break the life-engendering connection
whereby they might gain strength
from one another.

You will not force them to grow
by virtue of some outside fertilizer
which you’ve distilled and now will re-impart.
When you wake up
you’ll let them them grow as they’re designed —
a liberation that will also feel most wonderful
to your unfolding self.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 25, 2013


Considering Life

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Maybe
it doesn’t matter
Maybe all the howling failures
and the little opportunities
that were missed
And all the things you didn’t say
or wished you hadn’t
Were just some of many shoots
put up in hope and exploration
from some much grander system underground
its purpose irrepressible
And some will thrive
and some will be cut off
but all will serve
and in the end, like the beginning,
Life will spring forth
making pathways for more and greater growth.
And we will bless,
each in our niche in time and space
and we will know
There’s no way we can fail
at grace.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 23, 2013


We Will Mend

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At some point we will mend —
it is inevitable,
it is our process,
like phloem flowing from Sequoias,
filling in the damage, year by year,
the bark slowly engulfing
all the wounds

At some point we will mend —
We will stop wearing down
the same old fruitless pathways,
stop kicking up dust,
and with it, every chance for things to grow.
We will be still, and with time,
we’ll find what’s needed
to amend the soil
and help the life return.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 19, 2013