The First Rains of Spring

Photo:  (c) Jamie K. Reaser

The rains arrived today in the way

spring rains do: with a strong intent

that could have been mistaken for

mercilessness. They wanted nothing.

That is to say, they wanted nothingness,

the great dissolving of vows that

were clinging to a life that was not

as it had been. She had wondered

about the limits on her freedoms,

but had not found the source of her

bindings. The suffering could have

been mistaken for mercilessness,

that’s true. But, now, now there was

a word falling on the porch’s metal roof:

dissolution (noun)

an ending of a formality of

sorts. A releasing.  But, also,

a loss of controlling factors,

a return to wildness.

And, so, she surrendered everything.

That is to say, she surrendered everything

that had restrained her heart’s contentment,

for, isn’t that everything that should

not matter?

~ Jamie K. Reaser, Author

From "Truth and Beauty" (a work in progress)

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Welcoming Spring

Art: Mark Collins
https://markcollinsfineart.com/

The body needs warmth and a

light touch. Maybe you don’t

say it out loud for months because

it's worse if it doesn’t come, but then,

there’s spring, when all the dear

sweet unspeakables are requited.

Welcome spring!

Oh, yes, we are still human.

~

I thought perhaps the bluebird

always knew happiness, but

when I saw him there, looking up,

I realized he too was expressing

gratitude for a silent prayer

answered.

What a thrill to learn that our

bodies share the same below-skin

needs. Oh, to be of the same

memory and voice.

Welcome spring!

Oh, yes, we are still animal.

~

Walk further afield. Yes, there is more.

More sounds of bodies and souls

finding each other again in the

sunshine.

So many rushing to put sound into

the world. So many remembering

the rewards of responding to a

particular calling.

Welcome spring!

Oh, yes, we are still living.

© 2019-2020/Jamie K. Reaser

From a book collaboration in progress with artist Mark Collins

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Graceful

Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

Grace is such a messy thing. Have you ever

considered the number of times you fell

before you could walk? All the spelling

mistakes you made, and the grades that

referenced them, before you were able

to compose the perfect love note?

We don’t get here, anywhere, without

some sort of struggle, some sort of

beckoning that is bigger than everything

we already know. This is the journey

that the poets write about; their pens,

exhausted yet whole-hearted, can do

only this.

Me and you. This is what we can do.

Be graceful.  

© 2019/Jamie K. Reaser

From "Truth and Beauty" (a work in progress)

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Proud Papa

Art: (c) Mark Collins

Is it possible to know the purpose of our  

name before it is placed in the world

by those utterly dependent upon

our ability to recognize their voice?

~

The bluebird fledglings had been calling out

to their parents for nearly three weeks:

Caterpillars! Big ones.

Spiders! Nice ones.

Crickets! Loud ones.

Grasshoppers! Green ones.

Beetles! Many.

Feed me!

Feed me!

Feed me!

Then one day, when Papa Bluebird was sitting

on a branch with the twins, they each did

as he did. Three birds caught three crawly

things.

He was proud, and a little sad. In the moment

that he fully realized his worth, he wasn’t

needed anymore.

~

I know a proud Papa and his beloved daughter,

sometimes a princess, sometimes a mermaid.

Ask him about the joy of tending and he starts

talking life changing gibberish:

About becoming a container without limits.

About the pleasure of being trampled on.

About being owned as a soul’s longing that

arrived as a surprise and never let go.

He is hers—“Papa!”—and she is his,

eternally and temporarily, as we all could

somehow be to each other.

Over and over again, he gets it wrong and

then gets it right, so she gets it right.

And, she does: I’ve watched her leave

a perch to catch love, succeed, and,

upon return,

alight with gratitude.

~

And, me as witness, watching, I’ve

learned a few things about pride:

How it is a landscape of claiming

and letting go.

How it is blessings evidenced in our

relationships to other.

How it teaches us about callings

meant only for us, and a response

that can only be ours.

And, how it should always be

voiced into the world as,

“Thank you.”

~ Jamie K. Reaser, Author

For a book collaboration project with artist Mark Collins
https://markcollinsfineart.com/

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Beginning Something

Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

In the belly of the Earth

there is a quickening,

an expectancy of light

and warm touch, an

increase in the tempo

of the invisible pleadings

that call life forth through

the oh-so-necessary

breaks in seed and bulb,

shell and womb. And, in

the heart too, there is

self-evidence of departures

from darkness into a place

of witnessing.

What’s happening in

the branches is delightful!

The birds, every single one

of them, is now an artist

imagining deeply cupped

masterpieces, maybe of twigs

and moss, maybe of the hair

the deer gifted when they

passed greenbrier thorn

while being hunted. What

is to be well-tended,

must be provided a place

of holding.

If you stay small now,

it can only be because you

choose not to respond to

everything that wants

to grow, wants to feed

on newness, wants to be

among those living with

eyes recently opened to

the view of something

astonishing looking back

at them.

It’s a time of offerings:

Gratitude for what was

Gratitude for what will be

May you bless your restlessness

by beginning something on

which life depends.

~ Jamie K. Reaser, Author

From "Truth and Beauty" (a work in progress)

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When You Stand

Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

May your feet, here now, know the support of the Earth,

the mother of your mother’s mother’s mother and all

the mothers before her.

May, in this light, you know the guidance of the Sun,

the father of your father’s father’s father and all

the fathers before him.

May you know the sisterhood of women who

will embrace and hold space for your soul’s seed

to break and who, in their own way, pray that because

of this necessary breaking, there will emerge and grow

something that serves others without

demand of reciprocity.

May you know the brotherhood of men who

stand beside you as you stand beside them,

all familiar strangers, dedicated to protecting the ache

of uncertainty, difference, and belonging

so that we may liberate the fears that otherwise

divide, diminish, and destroy otherness.

May you stand in the presence of my gratitude.

Thank you for showing me where blessings are needed.

~ Jamie K. Reaser, Author

From "Bless this Day" (a work in progress)

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Bluebirds

Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

We were given bluebirds. Have you

thought about that? Something wanted

us to find some kind of happiness

flitting about in our being. Imagine

the foresight! Humans with our

befuddling ache for something other

than the miracles all around us.

Bluebirds.

What can you do with a bluebird

other than say, “Oh! This day is so

much better now.” That wasn’t

a question, actually. Because it’s

simply true. True like the branch on

which the bluebird perches, or the fence

post beside the old orchard with tart

heirloom apples.

What if a bluebird perched on your

heart? Yes, imagine that! Imagine

what could become of this

unhappy miracled world.

~ Jamie K. Reser, Author

From “Truth and Beauty” (a work in progress)

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