2020
Another gilded age, another Babylon
vs. the pure-hearted walkers
who don’t look for a ride,
who carry a sign: Free the Children!
I remember 1947.
Imprisoned at 3,
family gone, no food,
no water, almost died. Then,
compassion entered.
I survived.
Jan. 1, 2020, (c) Gudrun Mouw
Welcome, recent fog for bringing much needed moisture to our dry land! No real rainfall as yet; I’m still carrying grey water out to various plants, but it isn’t sufficient…our neighbor, the forest, still suffers from extremes of cold and drought….
I think of my teacher, Sri Swami Satchidananda Yogiraj. When asked about human suffering, he taught: such suffering comes from ignorance, different from that which is caused by external forces. Some seek out pain as a way to avoid suffering. Others avoid pain to reduce suffering. However, we can choose wisdom, which tells us that that though a certain amount of pain may be inevitable, suffering is optional.
When it comes to our relationship with Mother Nature, it seems we humans have not been good caretakers of earth—we have been wasteful, arrogant and blatantly blind to the consequences of our actions. We can see evidence of this not only environmentally but also politically….I will light a candle to pray for an end to human ignorance.
—Gudrun
October
1)
I look at the month
of forgiveness—when rains
come down, when the land expands
with relief, and I forgive myself
for every complaint against heat,
though I still save dish water
for the courtyard
as a hot, dry climate
and fading sun
slowly relent.
2)
I do not forget:
The Drought Years
That Year of Fighting Bucks
Coyote Years
The Year of Fawns
That Skunk Family Year
Mountain Lion Years
Bobcat Years
and Years When I Don’t Know
What to Expect.
October 6, 2019
Gudrun Mouw (c)
“I will not be afraid to enjoy
what is beautiful, and to believe that
as I give to the world, so the world
will give to me.”
—Unknown
I look at these Zinnias feeling grateful and heartened. In spite of a recent surge of national hatred, bigotry, cruelty and selfishness, this bouquet reminds me how important it is to keep cherishing that which affirms, that which gives generously and that which spreads goodwill and joy. I smiled when these flowers greeted me as I arrived to teach a yoga class, and I am smiling now.
September, 2019
August Lesson
“August represents pure love,” my teacher’s teacher said;
then, why does hatred pull hatred to the mark?
After two national massacres, today looks
unreal. Hardly a bloom in the courtyard under cold fog
followed by wind over brown, dead grass.
I finish reading another bad book, sip lemon water.
Two friends connect by phone; I am willing to help.
We look for ways to heal, to engage, to find once again
joy hiding among the decades.
Gudrun Mouw (c)
August 7, 2019
MORNING DRIZZLE
Barely visible, a transparent sheet
of moisture falls
to the semi-arid earth.
Something precious stirs—
something momentous like a birth.
Summer Solstice happened;
one more spring has passed.
Morning deer have grazed and gone.
A neighbor’s cat appears on life’s screen,
then, ducks out, under our gate.
How much more is there,
to wonder and to love.
Gudrun Mouw (c)
June 20, 2019
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