johanna_lea

awake before the dawning light
i hurry out into the night.
the moon is down, the heavens glow
with shooting stars; from here below,
it seems they dance the sky so free
and something stirs inside of me,
that sings in stellar harmony.

bright streaking sparks of distant fire
are said to grant your hearts desire
my soul embraces beauty's flight
a witness to this holy light...
content to rest in silent night.

i brush the dust from the dark gray leather seat

there, spun out on my fingers, find a pale spider's thread

a silver strand, newly shed, from someone's silver head.

so fine and silky tangled here

i wonder whose gray hair, old friends....

yours? or mine, or yours?

which fellow archer left behind her

this single strand of our common

winter web...

my anger rides a wave
no flashing fire, no explosions
no smoke and ash or
hot lava on the land...
scorched earth in its wake

vast and oceanic rather
from the depths of a feeling heart
salt tears overflowing
these flooding tides
ebb and flow with the moon

on constant swells of emotion
i wait for the seventh wave
the one within the cycle
bringing freedom from the undertow
the strength to carry to the shore
all that my heart contains

at the reunion with solid ground
carried by the water's power
i lie gasping on the sand
still thirsty

-festival-

a jerking painted puppet, eyes hollow and dead.
smile bright as a candle-
his earring dangles, slender shoulder shown
through slipping shirt.

he speaks his lines well- he knows no others
no different way into your heart.
an actor sticks to the script
that works for him every time.

wanting to find a reason to believe,
i listen to the lines...overlook the craving
behind his every word-
the endless need and feed
crouching behind those
smiling azure eyes.

deaf and blind to this false dance,
my truth obscured within-
i know what animates a soul
will always reveal itself in all ways.
patience is unkind and
false forgiveness, cruel...

- disharmony -

it begins with love

disintegrates into spite

so condescending...


- ex -

he still loves me

i care too, but we always

drive eachother nuts.


- chemistry-

a substance and a

catalyst often combine with

unpleasant results...


- conversation? -

back and forth we speak

monologs and dialogs

no resolution.


- prayer -

someday it will change

from such endless bickering to

true connection.




.

at just before midnight, i sat out in the soft night air watching the almost-full
moon in the clear sky. i saw a large halo around the moon, due partly to the
humid hazy atmosphere, and [i thought] to my poor eyesight. this luminous
glow continued, the aura grew larger and larger, surrounding the bright white
moon, which also seemed to be growing in size....i could not tear my eyes
away from this hypnotic scene.

suddenly, the often perceived features of the "man-in-the-moon" coalesced quickly
into the face of an angry woman, her huge eyes and screaming mouth seemed
to be directed at me, sitting there in the night. i was alone, but somehow unafraid.
the light was so brilliant now that i could clearly see my sharp shadow on the ground
as i stood to meet her gaze.

her eyes were locked with mine.  the silver rays streaming all around me in the
silence of the night. all the little night noises, frogs, cicadas, and occasional
owl calls has vanished. i wondered if long staring into the moon would harm
the eyesight as did the sun  suddenly, her furious face seemed to rush at me,
although i knew the moon was far away, she moved at the speed of light and
surrounded me in a moment. my skin tingled in the waves of her brightness
all around me; i was not afraid, but elated as i opened my arms to fully embrace
her in all her glory.

at that moment, i felt my heart pulsing in time with the lunar rays; my eyes seeing only
silver, my breathing deep and regular as if in a trance state. she sent her
powerful energy through me, changing and rearranging my 'energy body.
i looked down at my hand and saw that i was shining brightly too.
my palm reflected my face as if i had become a glowing
mirror. enfolded in her full energy, i had received her light, and
she had embraced me as well. the incredible knowledge of this union
was so very overwhelming; i began to dance and spin, faster and faster.
i saw my shadow beside me, no longer a reflection of my body. it danced and
spun as if alive itself, freed from being the mere echo of my shape.

i became aware that i was rising away from the ground as i danced wildly.
somehow, i had escaped the gravity of the earth, and ascended spinning
into the sky...as i grew closer and closer to her angry face, i felt the first touch
of fear  that i would surely be absorbed into her shining rage.
immediately i began falling back to earth. her incredible light and angry
aspect receded as quickly as she had rushed to embrace me. i hit the ground
hard and fast; it knocked the wind out of me. i could not breathe for a second,
then  drew a long gasping breath of the cool night air deep into my lungs.
i was shivering on the damp grass and wet from the dew.

i felt dull and human again, lying there gazing at the sky and reliving the
ecstatic energy, now so far from me. the moon sat still and blank, small and
high in the sky, following her barely perceptible arc toward the west. with my
shadow firmly attached to my heels again, i rose and walked towards the house lights.
incredibly it was just after midnight.  my endless dance into the moon had lasted
but a moment. in her all-encompassing light, i had escaped all "laws" of time and
space on this earth. my own light-body had merged with light of the heavens,
and i was briefly one with the cosmos. my perception of the enraged moon and my
first fearful thought had broken the sense of total union, sending me back into
my physical body held fast here on earth.

i was both elated and relieved. the experience of the fullness of light had been
so exciting as i rose away from "earthly bounds". my fall to the earth had
reminded me i was still alive in my body. however, there was some change in me,
the sensation of lightness and the knowing of my body's energy pulse are with
me forever. i woke this morning from a deep and restful sleep, wondering if
the night before had been a dream. my damp nightgown and the overturned
chair and blanket on the ground outside, as well as this buzzing energetic
feeling, all clear evidence of the Truth at midnight,






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9/14/2007

loving you and losing you
all at the same instant
suddenly hits me so hard.
my illusions shattered
bits of glass all over your floor.
i am blindly sifting through
the tiny pieces of our love.
no bleeding fingers but
your cool gaze speaks so clear
there's no place for me here.


i am a ghost.
i have been one awhile
but i just noticed it...
a sharp stick in the heart
is pain remembered.

and remember i will
but also call to mind
every good thing between us
all will fade over time but
forever deep in my heart.
your sweet smile for me
i will always see.


but you are a ghost.
you have been one awhile
but i just noticed it...
that sharp stick in the heart
is love remembered.

- withdrawal -

on the backside of bad habits
at the wrong end of a gun...
with a woman on your mind,
looks like you're the only one
who can make sense of this party
and the meaning of this time.
you cant hide behind your smokescreen.
you cant drown it in the wine.

you got to face the reason why
feels like you're about to die,
and there's nothing you can say
to make this nightmare go away.
looking for the morning sun,
but this party's just begun.

-beginnings-

good fences make good neighbors;  good boundaries, good friends.
these things we know a mutual dance requires.
a brand-new romance-dance begins,  we hope will never end
and mutual rhythm's just what we desire.
so as we step out on the floor, i'll just come out and say
is it foxtrot, or the tango that we're doing anyway?

well i think i've got the picture, and i think i know the dance
whether two-step or the twist,  will set me free...
and whatever  we are doing is no longer random chance,
but angelic intervention,   let it be.

i have been posting on this blog  for several months, and have chosen to re-locate my
"personal" journal of rants, raves and  life-comments....
originally,  i had thought to drop this journal account, but now i have decided to continue here
using L/J as a platform for my literary efforts. i am a writer and and collage artist and a poet. 
my first goal here was to post an collage, with a story about it....either of the making,  or my
inspirations,  or the tale each one tells through its symbols and images.
although i an somewhat technically e-limited, i will at some point begin the art/writing project.....

even though each writer uses some elements and personal aha! life moments, this will be
mostly fictional work. my haiku poetry is elsewhere, so why not have a place to practice the art
of simply writing?  i may be spread too thin, but a good "read"  has its place, too.

my art,  my poetry and my writing all have different places in my mind, but they all spring
from  my own "dreaming world." and so, from here i will send my writings off into cyberspace.
my posts here will probably be somewhat  infrequent, at this point.
i hope you will enjoy them....    vty J-lea

"But we must try to find our True Conscience, our True Self, the very Center,

for this is the only first-rate choice-making center. Here lies all originality,

talent, truthfulness, courage and cheerfulness.

Here only lies the ability to choose the good and the grand,

the true and the beautiful."   

brenda ueland ( from 'If You Want to Write')

once upon a time 20 years ago, i walked a path with a man who seemed fated for me. we were immediately
drawn to eachother. our chemistry, quick  wit and wordplay were our tender weapons as we found our way
into eachother's hearts. i found a great teacher and lover in this dear man.....we had a child together, a surprise
guided solely by fate and not by reason. this most holy gift brought me such joy, and changes in my life that
i never had expected were possible.  to me the word 'mother' was an enigma.... but children come to teach us that
our own childhood assumptions arent always true;  that pure, unconditional love is possible in life.
our son has grown into an impressive young man, hardworking, loving and giving; he is a musician
and songwriter, as well. he has the biggest heart, and quick intelligent wit just like his father.

i honor our long and loving relationship with this writing. we went our separate ways years ago.
when we parted, he sent me this poem, a beautiful expression of how loving, and life, and leaving intertwine.
yesterday was his 71st birthday, and  illness is slowly taking him away, i felt strongly that i should find this
poem and send it back to him.  he has parkinson's disease, and it is hard to see
him struggling with life. i still see him laughing with me out beside alison lake....
our dance is coming to an end.
i can only wish him happiness and love all around him now, and this poem is my  'letting go'  for him.

-In Blackwater Woods-

Look, the trees
are turning
their own bodies
into pillars

of light,
are giving off the rich
fragrance of cinnamon
and fulfillment,

the long tapers
of cattails
are bursting and floating away over
the blue shoulders

of the ponds,
and every pond,
no matter what its
name, is

nameless now.
Every year
everything
I have ever learned

in my lifetime
leads back to this: the fires
and the black rivers of loss
whose other side

is salvation,
whose meaning
none of us will ever know.
To live in this world

you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it

against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.

i am sorry i dont know author's name, but this is attributed to him or her... with deep gratitude.

God Bless, Ray...

vty, Jo

i have been writing of this issue in my posts here also as a guest  on my friend's
garden blog... i am of a "certain age"....there are certainly many  of us left who mistrust
new and unfamiliar ways of  e-communication. i have already made the leap
into cybernetworking, but would still prefer walking to the mailbox for a "real" letter....
having said this, i have gained some peace of mind.  the true issue
is not an issue at all, when it comes to human need to communicate.

posted from http://ilonagarden.blogspot.com ...

my latest few posts here have clarified for me this one true thing: All is Interconnected/
We are All One...on the "Web" or engaged in the web of life, the many different means of
communication all work to serve the same human needs.
my wrestling with these new e-forms of contact is part of what history would say
defines 'my generation' ( the Who song- did you think of it right off? )
we were mostly hippies, sometimes back-to-the-landers, and luddites many years ago.
some of us just stayed there...
we are the lucky ones, in these tough times IMHO. woo-hoo i have just txtspoken.

my main point here is that be it birdsong or twitter, we have a need for communication
as well as a connection to all living things. we are human, and must be interconnected;
we are simply made so!
to sit and ponder a nonexistent difference is precious time
better spent out in the yard....

vty,   johanna-lea

although my circle of close women friends are for the most part past their child-bearing years, it seems to have
become a much-noted trend towards grandparents raising their grandkids. this happens for many reasons...for love, or low money, mistreatment,  an absent working parent,
or simply "not-full-grown" children becoming parents too young.... as we pass
out of being "the mother" in our lives and reach the age of  "the crone", it is a fitting time to find your true self again,  expressing the many interests and talents that we gladly gave up,or put aside for the
raising of our children.
many blended families form extended households for economic reasons, and there are often adult sons and daughters
returning to the nest, with their offspring in tow.
often this makes good economic sense in these tough times,
however the issues of childcare can be blurred, and the responsible and more experienced, wiser
women take up their "role" again. 
whether willingly or unwillingly, this is a great gift is for their grandchildren, who should be first
and foremost.

this is an age of baby-mommas and baby-daddys accepted as simply another way of life...with no real social stigma anymore in this brave new world of relationships. some young people make it just fine
out in the world ending up
in parternerships or marriages with families on their own. others just  linger in the "failure to launch" mode, stuck in the world of their youth, quite content at home... just adding some new offspring to the parental nest. 
more often than not, it's work, school or just plain lazyness that requires grandparents to step in
and help out, with babysitting and childcare.

where the lines blur between "helping out" and "raising" grandchildren, loving grandparents often find
themselves trapped into old familiar roles that they have long left behind....both loving, yet resenting their grown kids'allowing this to happen...
it is truly  a conundrum of pure love... do you give all  you can give to your dearly loved grandchildren, while your own grown kids 'do their thing'...
or do you turn away and allow life's cruelties, and relentless  circumstances to play themselves out as they will.    there arent many entirely "happy endings"
with either choice you make. it is the children of dysfunctional families that always suffer, so how can you turn out the adult children and "say go make your own way"....sometimes that way is straight to the hell of chaos, poverty and drugs. an awful fate for young children with ignoring,self-concerned  young parents.

held hostage by the innocent victims that you truly cherish. you are often the main source of pure,
sweet and untainted love for them.  this is the beginning that children need at a tender age, in order to be able to cope emotionally with life as they grow up. 
the conscientious choice to put their children first is often lacking in today's young adults, who just  reproduce, with little thought of how they will handle their own lives.
in that respect, they are still children too,  and the badly need to get their own lives together....
in order to have any successful "family " on their own.

i am writing this "sunday sermon" for my best friend, who is lovingly captured by her dear grandchildren.
i feel is she is saving their lives. she is "Mommy"....period.... to her 2 1/2 yr.old grandaughter and has also taken over the mothering of her dear and darling  5 month old grandson, from the time he was born...
all the while their mother and father
still carry on the drama and fighting that is their life. i see how very wearying the daily care of two very young children affects her entire life...   she is often tired and overwhelmed, as any mother would be.   
but just try on that hat @ 55!!
once she told me her "Mommy glands" are atrophied....in undertaking this sacrifice of her time and energy,
she is a true example of the good Mother,  willing to go the distance because of real love, no matter what it takes.
it is a puzzle she must work out daily, but in my eyes she is a small saint......working small miracles.
there are too many  grandmothers out there who share her story, in some form or another.
always try and give them a hand when you can, even saints get tired, and need a nap....

much love and respect to you,  patti.

vty  J_lea

the early morning awakening of more rain beating on the roof didnt help....my first answer to writers block ?
pretty much sums it up for me..... haiku for fool's day:

-vanity-

in early light look
deep into the cruel mirror.
where's that spring chicken?

-reality-

this tough old bird will
make strong tasty soup,
full of gristle and joy.


vty, J_lea

looking into the mirror @ 5 AM.  no spring chicken here, i should have ended up in the stewpot quite awhile ago.! however, i wear my tough-old-bird persona with pride....
the age in your eyes cannot over-ride the joy and wisdom in your heart.

WE are our own predators.... far from the "stewardship" we were given in "the Garden",  we wear the
'greedy hat ' all over the planet!  its not enough to blame GMO's or fertilizer chem-companies, coal-fired
electric plants and  carbon emissions from too many millions of cars and trucks. we need a good long
look in the mirror . it is our overpopulation,  as well as our rampant  and astounding consumption
of the resources in our world.

one of the biggest issues for our future on this earth is the "ownership"of water.
out West, every drop of the colorado river already belongs to some entity, plus most every city
down the line to LA.  it is true of many big rivers and reservoirs in the dry western states.
as frequent drought has moved east, and closer to my world, there is the big
atlanta/ alabama/ florida battle over allocation of the water in chattahoochee-eufala-apalachicola river system.  this has been a very long-time controversy, ongoing since i heard about it from the local folks'
accounts of changes in the Bay and their fears about it, back in ' 98...10 years ago, now!.

one of the most productive estuaries in the one of the last of the living 'big bays' is now 
in serious trouble...mostly from insufficient fresh water,  the effects of longterm severe
drought in the South, as well as receiving the concentrated yuppie urine etc etc. from upstream.
the apalachicola bay ecosystem is slowly suffering;  once so bounteous, and full of life... the fish,
the birds, and the shrimp, crab and oysters are now slowly trying to readjust to the increasingly saline waters, as well as to man's increasing presence and pollution of the surrounding environment.
unfortunately, abundant bay life stems from the proper ecological balance of  fresh and ocean waters...
which is fluctuating and diminishing more and more every season.
when you read the apalachicola (end-of-the-line) side of things in the florida news-
papers there is much more clear reporting of the issue....rather than our current
governer's ignorant and uncaring remarks about  "them 'lil' ole mussels are just gonna have to
crawl  a little farther to get to the water".   up in lake lanier country, they choose their huge boats
over the health of  the river(s) path elsewhere. their belief seems to be simply use and abuse,
forgetting the connection to the waters of this living earth.

this whole story brings me such grief, if only for the memory of how incredibly beautiful the
florida 'panhandle' area was when i was first there.(1978)   it was the closest i will ever
get to paradise...totally wild and undeveloped, full of migrating birds and butterflies,
no people,  a wilderness upriver like a tarzan movie, with big palms, cypress and big alligators.
the bay waters were fertile and clean in eco-balance with the salty sea.
oysters galore, gathered and eaten right out of the bay, with no fear of  the many
parasites/bacterial infection/algae blooms(red tides)  present in the overworked waters of today.
long gorgeous bare white beaches beside the placid gulf waters..
did i mention no people?

the "people-in-charge", the fatcats and suits, should remember that our greatest resource is water.
its loss means death for us all,  just like the air we breathe.  these precious resources should be free,
our rights to them paramount.   definitely OUT of the ever-present monetary arena.

i  picture a world where those in big business have to wear red 'greedy hats'....
they are shaped like catholic bishops mitres, only not so big or nice.
i want to know who they are and who to watch out for.....
it would be nice to see all those wall st. capitalists and brokers and CEO's and bankers involved required
to wear this proof of identity while they desperately scramble to pick our pockets like india's beggar-children

a haiku for today:

Capitalism , Communism..... we all can wear the 'greedy hat'.

i have been continuing to twitter haiku every morning, some are in classic 5-7-5 syllable form,
but in twitter you cannot  really tell.... there is no ordering of words, other than a  straight line of byts. 
when i realized this, i  began
writing more for the words themselves, than the word-form of 3 lines. 
often i found myself using the  'fusion'  form of haiku
just the17 syllables that relate a clear  'real'  moment or a tiny revelation of grace.
even in my brief communications with "friends", i write in 17 syllables, always.  
so far, it has been an excellent morning "brain gym",   as stimulating as the coffee.....

i've played around with haiku for a very long time, exchanging  them with various friends and fellow
writers over the years. nothing tops a good game of haiku;   the "conversation" becomes brief
and beautiful, right-to-the-point... often, over time, even addictive.
although twitter is a medium for fast connections and links, and comments on what the world is doing at
any given moment....each morning, my "what are you doing" is writing haiku. it's a nice combination of
form and function; i often ponder which is which as i count syllables on my fingers. what am i doing right now?
i am temporally writing haiku, in e-world......... as spiritually as i can.

i wish now that i had kept track of every one, on postcards and old papers , scribbled on the back of an envelope
while driving......endless exchanges of beautifully precise poems.  i have held onto many, and once more, as i re-read them,
i see how the process functions to reduce the babble and tranquilize the monkey mind.
writing haiku allows a practice of poetic consideration to both focus and relax your mind.
these deliberately concise images convey the beauty of all life in just a few words.  
this form of poetry, gives the both the writer and the reader the experience of  a tiny  'Aha!' moment.
its brevity and its beauty are understandable, and quickly realized. 
i believe haiku teaches each of us to reduce the external noise, and fully apprehend the beauty
of the present moment....between  form and  function, it makes no difference in this very
small bit of the dreaming-world.

-vernal-

i hear the voices,
the sandhill cranes returning
from southern winters.

vty,  J-lea

sunday seed sermon posted by johanna_lea @http:// ilonagarden.blogspot.com/

here in the south, it is the time when spring peepers sing the hallelujah chorus in every ditch, pond and puddle. their voices
swell, ebb and flow beginning @ around dark-thirty. later,if you happen outside in the cool night air, they're still partying out there...
as in every living being's life cycles, this is their window of opportunity..... "hallelujah! hallelujah!" ....an orgy in each puddle.
on some nights the warming air keeps them at it at such frantic levels, it actually gets louder, fuller. a great wild party full of pheromones, and lovesongs , wild dancing.... been there, done that . and a very
good time was had by all. 'nuff said...

i have written my twitter haiku about this very subject . latest this AM:

flies, women and song...
these tiny little peeper guys
have got it made.

i find a sort of perverse pleasure in hanging this daily haiku practice on the newest, shortest and most superficial, self-important, e-quiktrick medium yet..... we think and communicate in shorter and shorter byts.
the concise haiku form fits quite well. they're 'Hi-brow tweets' (is that an oxymoron?)
what has become of us, who still actually write stuff in notebooks!
twitter is fluff, it is simply "much ado about nothing"---but if i can write for a year, i might have a book deal outta it... hah!
an entire year of daily "what am i doing right now " .....which is haiku.
enjoy the spring singing. right at this very minute, the hallelujah chorus is being sung on NPR!!

vty, J_lea

p/s if you haiku, too. my twitter name is 'ndawnis11' ojibwe word for daughter. come out and play.