Affirmations:
I
do what is mine to do.
I
live true to what is right for me.
I
know courage sets me free to be.
I
live my life in the highest and best way I know.
What
Can I Do?
What
is my part to play?
How
can I participate?
Where
do I fit in?
How
can I serve?
What
is for the Highest Good?
How do I know
what to do?
Where can I join
to be helpful?
Why am I here?
Some
are here to be helpful.
Some are here to
serve others.
Some are here to
heal their past.
Some are here to
find love that lasts.
For
each one of us there is a unique and special reason.
For each one there
is a calling to experience what is ours to be and do.
For everyone there
is a time and a season.
For everyone there
is a right place and way to live and see.
When
we go to sleep, hiding under the covers, we cannot see and know.
When we do what
everyone else seems to be doing, we forget our selves.
When we sit waiting
for an alarm to awaken us, we may never wake up.
When we follow and
copy someone else’s path , we may never know our own.
We learn
by watching and even studying someone we admire.
We encourage
ourselves by imitation and emulating other’s choice.
We free ourselves by
being rebellious and even with oppositional defiance.
We explore our own
path with freedom to try our other possibilities.
Actors
learn to act.
Healers learn to
heal.
Parents learn to
parent.
Humans learn by
acting human.
We all
copy others journeys through reading, pretending, admiring and trying it out.
Try out what you
want to be.
See if it fits for
you.
Explore by
volunteering, taking on a project, learning by observing.
Be
honest with yourself is all aspects.
Give yourself a big
dose and see if it works.
Be honest about what
feels happy and right for you.
Step away and choose
again when it is unhappy and wrong.
Encouraging
our freedom to play the part that is ours.
Betty Lue
SOIL BUILDING
Trapped she was in the globe
that she'd built for herself
Glass, cool and unrelenting
against her palms
Her calls were muted before
the infinite blackness.
Inside, her voice grew cold
and hollow
As she cried, "What can I
do? What can I do?"
She was a solitary passenger
hurling around a distant sun,
Orbit upon dizzying orbit,
Dried vomit at her feet,
The panel of stars glowed cold
and remote,
And she cried, "What can
I do? What can I do?"
Below her the waste of her
life piled layer upon layer
Of shattered dreams, cracked
hopes, and shit.
She cried and watched as her
heart too was flung upon the pile,
Tattered fragments, some still
pulsating though void of rhythm,
While she cried, "What
can I do? What can I do?"
Somewhere, about eight light
minutes away, a star glowed.
And she remembered that she
knew something about plants.
She reached into her pockets,
and began scattering seeds
Amidst the detrital wasteland
that threatened to bury her.
Any seed she could find, she
cast like a net
That called, "What can I
do? What can I do?"
Fingers of the sun
outstretched a ray of warmth on this mound or that,
And her tears moistened the
parched earth.
Tiny lives emerged and reached
out their hopeful tendrils,
Unfurled themselves into
gossamer leaves
And into the light of the
naked sun they grew.
And spending themselves, they
withered, they withered, they failed.
As they called, in their last
breaths, "What can I do? What can I do?"
The girl observed that nothing
would survive.
Tears rained onto the mess and
she flung her wasted body on top of the mountain of her own decay.
Weeping, she drowned, she
drowned, moaning, "What can I do? What can I do?"
And somewhere throughout the
decomposition, one tiny green something persisted.
Shaded by the corpse of the
girl, its root extended.
Frayed leaves reached outwards
Like tiny hands
That asked, rotating towards
the golden light,
"What can I do? What can
I do?"
The sun's rays glowed in the
incipient leaves.
As the glass orb shone, a halo
filled with morning light.
And the new life breathed in
and then out,
"What can I do? What can
I do?"
To which all the stars
twinkled and flashed
Shedding their soft glow in
the black night.
Incipient root hairs reached
through the soft soil
Guided by the heavenly song
of, "What can I do? What can I do?"
On this morning a tender plant
stretches into the glass orb
Where the girl once wailed,
And it bathes in the golden
dawn that dances upon blessed soil.
And the universe,
Ever-present, Ever-emergent, sings,
"What can I do? What can
I do?"
Keli Rutan-Jorgensen
March 7, 2015
Inspired by dawn meditation
around the Full Moon, and a certain bracelet with
the phrase stenciled on it, "What can I do?"