in communion

walking the turns and folds of your beautiful body
    my feet trace shapes—  earthen and winding 
           the off-trails of oaken majesty

my hands outstretch—   touch      the long lashes of summer 
     resilience blooms through a crack on the wall, 
       pulls me         from waspen worry 

a memory plume—
        the coalesce of people at my home 
eyes enlivened, luminous in laughter       
         
pouring—   
      one person into another
        conversation to confetti the dark 
 
we tilt our heads at the same painting, 
          it's the light 
  the curiosity of interests serve to unite

      confluence reveals
         ah, you know him,         her   
 we sit and say—    I know how that feels 

lessons from the dark are never a choice 
      they come  (they will come) 
but connection carries us on arrows—  

     interstellar flight
                 in communion 
                             with your voice

This is a small rewrite of ‘Summer feel’, a poem from last summer. I felt a connection between the heightened presence I feel in nature and a Communion celebration of our youngest at the weekend. A rare confluence of family and friends across 3 generations at our home. I really enjoyed it.

I’ve been thinking a little about presence felt in the senses. In the past I overlooked how these fleeting moments held significance and are physically sensed as energy. When I was younger I was maybe moving too fast to perceive it palpably.

How presence begins in just noticing it, allowing it in. How it nourishes compared to the endless lure of worry. Even to stay with difficult feelings when they come too, though we'd rather not. Ground through our senses, in our bodies is to feel our lives. Easier said, I know.

For the mostpart I feel presence as flowing, when I’m relaxed. Sometimes in bolts of bliss on walks, more gently in meditation (though I’m only trying to restart this practice again). It feels a lot like love to me, some connection to a Divine energy. It arrives of its own accord, alone, in passing moments, through waves of interaction … surprise moments when my head is not all caught up.

I’ve been served some lessons in worry of late, lest I forget. I’m seeing lately how presence and anxiety don’t like to occupy the same space. Presence is mostly in small slivers for me, noticed in small things.

‘Do what you love’ is one of my mum’s steers. A good compass.

Human interaction is one of the loves of my life. Presence loves to play at the interweaves of connection. It was quite a feeling at the weekend to be pulled along the river of conviviality. When we flow through ourselves and out into others like that. It’s a mysterious force.

Some of the inspiration for this post came from the talent of Carolyn Jones and the ever-mindful Don Boivin’s latest post. I’ll also reference here RAIN and the wonderful work of Tara Brach