The Sacred Mucky-Muck

I often feel like anything coming out of my mouth will sound crazy. There are so many thoughts going around in my head, so any big, HUGE thoughts that I’m at a loss to how to express them, or they feel overwhelming. Not just thoughts but feelings, sensations, intuitions, stories, longings, questions…. Sometimes I feel I don’t belong in this world; sometimes it’s hard to find people to talk to who “get where I’m at.” I have felt this way for most of my LIFE.

Still, I know I’m not crazy, I know I’m not alone, and I know I very much belong – in this body, on this planet, in this cosmos.

“In this world” gets a little trickier.

By “this world” I mean the world the Great Turning is leaving behind, the world from which it is moving on. And it IS moving on, no matter how hard one tries to hold on. I don’t want to hold on. I’m ready. Could I have sensed this even from a very early age? Could I have, perhaps, been born for this?

Sometimes the only way I can get at any of this is through poetry or other artistic endeavor. Something that taps into the heart and spirit of the matter. This is, I believe, another essential piece of navigating through the Great Turning: delving into the images, the myths, the archetypes of what is emerging. They hold great clues and possibilities I may never have envisioned through my rational, thinking mind.

Sometimes my poems are mystical, sometimes fanciful, sometimes fierce. This one is saying: Yes, I often feel like a misfit from another planet but I’m ON to something. I WILL listen, I will follow. Even against great tides. Dare I suggest that this is one of the things the Great Turning needs most from us?

The Sacred Mucky-Muck

Yes

Call it sacred –

    your confused and anguished

         venturing beyond the known,

         the safe, the fuzzy

         bliss of small, small

         worlds.

Frame it as sacred –

     your out-there insane,

         gut-wrenching inclination to

         renounce, empty, allow,

Frame it as sacred –

     your truly bizarre

         desire for sweet silence and

         deep contemplation, for

         dancing with death and for dreaming

         worlds into

         being.

Please

Call it sacred –

     your shockingly Self centered

         attempts to heal, to

         transform, to deign

         to feel worthy of

         co-Creation.

Frame it as sacred –

     your irritatingly troublesome

         rock the boat

         realness.

Please, know it is sacred.