Self Doubt

Carkeek tree

Well if the only thing required
is to not give up, I think
I should be able
to manage that

The exposure
of all my years of
not really pulling my weight
will not by itself sink me
just as long as I don’t
keep on doing nothing

It scares me, the level of my helplessness.
But maybe I can do something.
Maybe there is a use
for my mind, for my perspective

Maybe if I just
don’t give up today,
things will start getting clearer
and eventually
what I’m here for
will be apparent to me
and also others.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 19, 2016

Tumble Love

Greenlake stick

(a bicycle epiphany)

I carried the heavy baggage
through most of the ride,
considered the balance
of expectations, deliveries,
considered the relative merit
of what we must have thought
were our positions

Considered how to hold the slight —
to be indignant, to be chastened
(while the almost rain, the dull damp,
did nothing to alleviate my state)

I shuffled around those
anxieties, justifications,
all the long words with edges
that poke out, the carrying of which
makes me awkward

Till suddenly I realized
they can all just fall away
in a tumble love that feels
warm and roly about everyone,
that gathers them in like soft puppies,
delighting in my surrender
to their charms.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 8, 2016

Flow

mountains from plane

Perceptions loosen, floes flow,
rigid edges bump against each other
and fall off, shapes get rounded,
constructs that were solid
become dislodged,
where there was certainty,
the questions form

There is a current coursing underneath,
pulling everything towards the source.
There may be grinding creaking,
there may be logjams,
and signs of overwhelming force

Don’t be afraid.
You’ll find a suppleness
replacing former hardened forms,
you’ll find a truth that doesn’t count on stasis,
and an identity that doesn’t bow to norms

You’ll find yourself
finding yourself fluid,
define yourself in how you learn to move.
What must melt and break
will do so
as you approach the subtle, steady truth.

©Wendy Mulhern
July 27, 2016

One Moment

lagoon schoonerEvening brings
a chance of thunder,
a momentary glow,
last sun gleaming
on a boat’s white hull

Memory offers
people hardly even listening
while waiting to be seen,
to be heard, to be known

Wisdom intones
No one needs coaching
on how to be.
It’s never right to ask,
how are you doing
at learning to forgive?

I must honor
the cloak of respect,
must honor your quiet space,
big enough for you to twirl around in,
big enough for you to turn three times
to make a nest of long grasses
in which to sleep,
big enough to fling yourself down,
to howl, to moan, to cry,
or not. It’s OK for you to just sit there, too.
It isn’t mine to pry.

©Wendy Mulhern
July 18, 2016

Cerulean

cerulean with bird

I am reminded
to let go of all trying,
efforts on my part,
after all, amounting
to nothing more
than obfuscation

Today, as ever,
some swift patch of blue
fills my vision with the wideness
of effortless being,
the infinite home of cleaving
to omnipresent allness

(Even as my pack rat mind
scurries around, trying to package it
into a Lesson, a plan, a resolution)

Still, the brightness gleams
in so many places,
I can be reminded
again and again.

©Wendy Mulhern
July 11, 2016

Footing

Mill Creek upstream

Becoming real entails confronting demons.
You can float along the currents of illusion
with a fluff-constructed image of yourself,
an easy (mostly joyless) ride from birth to death,
through all the trumped up strokes of luck and chance

But if you once find solid footing,
struggle and scramble to stand up,
to hold your place,
you’ll feel the current rushing up against you,
you’ll look your demons in the face

Take courage, you are gaining strength,
and you will be supported by this place,
the tingle of the bracing air will help you,
the kindness of the sun afford you grace.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 3, 2016

The Tasks at Hand

ducks

If the tasks at hand
seem impossible,
just remember
the voice that tells you so
is not you. It is only
the keeper of boxes, the one
that tries to circumscribe your light,
the one that battles your dissent
with stridency of tone
so you will not keep fighting

The tasks at hand are a gift,
presented to celebrate your capabilities.
You are well able to do them,
and they will show the depth and brilliance
of your being.

The tasks at hand are yours —
Rise up!

©Wendy Mulhern
May 24, 2016

No Contest

Green Lake Sycomore

There will be no more contests.
I, at least, will not compete
for those dubious awards —
most envied,
most evolved,
most tragically thwarted
(or more exalted ones
I deemed outside my range)
I won’t pursue them for myself
or for my children,
won’t play for them in back rooms
of my mind

I have had enough now.
It’s time to take myself and,
as I can, lay aside those filters
and those trappings.
It’s time to meet each being
with the attention that he or she or it deserves,
having been put here, after all,
in this place, in this moment,
so we could uplift each other,
so we could be in awe
of how amazingly
Life provides our joy.

©Wendy Mulhern
April 26, 2016

Listing

Green Lake trees and people

Sometimes in moments
in between the trees
as my feet fall quiet on the walk,
I feel a tug that lists me slightly
to the left

and must remind myself

I’m through with pining,
through with indulging
that restless loneliness
that knows not what it wants
but feels bereft

I must remember

There isn’t anything
that, if I had, would make me happy,
there isn’t anything I lack,
and what I need
I carry here within me
and when I’m feeling lost,
it brings me back.

©Wendy Mulhern
April 23, 2016

Dawn

morning cedars

After the dawn extinguished
all the little glows, all the distant
points of light, all the length
of last night’s vigil

As the warmth flows through you,
softening the rigid edges,
as the climbing sun
releases grateful scents
from fronds and blossoms,
you may notice
that every stumbling footstep in the dark
was needed, every little light was real

And though the dawn would come no matter what,
the yearning that you called your life still helped —
it helped you recognize it,
helped you feel its gifts
and reap its prizes.

©Wendy Mulhern
April 21, 2016