Biting Into a New Year

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

This time of year,
the morning sun rises
in the bamboo next door,
sparkling through breezy leaves
as it outshines the night-stars,
sends them into hiding.
These are the dawns,
crisp, cold, and snappy,
that make biting into this new year
feel like biting into a fresh, crisp apple,
the first crunch and snap,
first fistful of round red goodness,
first taste of tart sweetness,
first scent of the promise of joy,
first yes to the perfect imperfection
of wholeness,
of what I hold in my hand,
of what I hold in my heart,
of what I hope for.
A few days ago, I cut an apple in half
crosswise,
discovered again a star hidden inside,
a star holding seeds.
We think of our heart as heart-shaped,
but maybe it’s more star-shaped,
unseen
like deep-space stars tucked away in daytime,
like the star tucked away at the core of an apple,
holding seeds to scatter in this new year,
seeds of love and kindness,
grace and goodness,
help and hope.
As we bite into a new year,
may we look for the star in each other.
May we look for the star in ourselves.
May we be generous with the seeds we hold.
May we shine.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

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Sharing a Shadow

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

I used to hold your hand as we walked,
shortening my stride to match
your preschool pace,
pausing to point out the double shadow,
one long, one short,
stretching out before us.
We waved at our shadow selves.
How could we not? I love shadows,
those soft, always-shifting shapes,
and these two were our ever-present friends.
You grew into a frustrated, hurry-up child
complaining, “You always have to stop
and take a picture of shadows.”
And, yes, I always did.
I always made you wait,
for shadows are my friends.
I suspect they might be yours, too.
Today, hanging decorations and
tall enough to reach the upper branches
of the Christmas tree,
you called, “Come and look.”
I stepped close, leaned in.
“See? There’s a shadow.” You pointed
to a birdhouse ornament
shadowed with feathery pine needles.
“I know you like shadows,” you said.
It was as close to saying “I love you”
as you may ever venture.
Such a small thing—
a tiny birdhouse,
a tiny shadow,
a brief comment,
a moment of pausing,
a moment of sharing a shadow,
but it filled my heart with wonder,
with gratitude,
with love.
So I guess
it was not such a small thing after all,
for it meant the world to me.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

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Time and Love

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

Somewhere,
long ago,
I read that the greatest gift we can give
is our time—
our listening ears,
our attentive eyes,
our working,
walking,
watching,
waiting
beside each other.
It seems to me that this is
love,
for love and time touch and tune,
one to the other,
twinned and twined in an eternal dance
to the vibrations of every voice,
chord,
rhythm,
and wingbeat,
every raindrop,
whisper of breeze
and gust of wind,
all measuring time,
all coming,
going,
circling back again and again,
the heartbeat of life,
the hum that is you and me.
If we could see the colors of this interplay,
this pulsing swirl of time and love,
we would see that love
is the stronger stream,
the more vibrant,
filling and freshening our hearts
with the wonder of
beyond,
where love transforms time
so that it’s no longer the measure
of what’s passing
but the majesty
of what always is.
Love folds time into itself and becomes
forever,
forever,
forever.
And isn’t this the greatest gift
we can give to anyone?
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

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Dreaming Between Photographs

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

I sleep between past and future.
On the wide windowsill to one side of my bed,
a single frame holds black and white photos
of my mom and dad, newlyweds,
shortly after World War II.
On the left, Mom stands at the kitchen sink,
apron over her sweater and skirt,
smiling at the camera while
washing a white enameled pot.
On the right, Dad also smiles at the camera.
He wears a suit and bow tie
and sits at a breakfast table,
a cup of coffee in hand,
a newspaper spread before him.
On the windowsill on the other side of my bed,
a single picture frame holds color school photos
of two of my grandchildren, whose mom is Japanese.
Before Dad died at 95,
he pointed out that in the war,
he joined the Navy to fight the Japanese.
Now, here, decades later,
his granddaughter-in-law was from Japan,
two of his great-grandchildren were half Japanese,
and he dearly loved them all.
Who could have predicted it?
I would say the thought blew his mind.
He would simply laugh softly and say,
“Isn’t that something!”

I sleep between that past and future.
I live between that past and future.
I dream between that past and future,
hoping that someday all of us will see each other
with new, clear, gracious eyes
and that fear and anger over our differences
will dissipate like a fog in the sunlight
and we will see each other
with open hearts,
with wonder,
and softly laugh and say,
“Isn’t that something!”
For it really is something.
It’s peace.
It’s joy.
It’s the mystery and brilliance
of love.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

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Love Holds the Weight

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

My neighbor steps out onto his back porch
holding his baby in the crook of his arm.
She looks around eagerly,
her small arm light on his shoulder.
She is not afraid of falling,
and she won’t, not in his arms.
I’ve held my own children just this way,
so I know this:
She will grow heavier,
holding will become harder,
and falling is inevitable—
but not from his arms.
And when the day comes
when he can no longer pick her up,
his heart will continue to hold her
with an invisible strength, often unnoticed.
This is the wonder of love,
the way we hold each other.
Like air holds clouds aloft,
like the sea holds whales suspended,
like light holds the mystery of years gone by,
our hearts carry each other.
Love expands and makes space.
Love holds the weight it needs to hold.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

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Why Not Love a Tree?

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

It was a death, I realized,
the cutting down of the tulip poplar
taller than our two-story house.
Her broad scalloped leaves were still healthy,
her tulip-shaped blooms pale yellow-green
splashed with orange in the shape of hearts
that looked hand-painted
by some mischievous wood-sprite.
She still looked healthy, shady, perfect
except for her trunk
now leaning at an unnatural angle,
shoved askew by storm winds.
On one side, roots had pulled free
creating a lovely-looking cavern—
if you were a fairy
or a chipmunk.
But even the small cavern was not safe.
Each gust of wind
rocked its grassy root-thick roof
and threatened to fell the tree.
Where exactly would she fall?
Would she crash into the old hackberry?
Would it take her weight?
Break her fall?
Or would she end up in the driveway?
Would she clip the corner of the house?
And when?
Luckily, she stayed standing
until the tree surgeons came.
Unluckily, it was a death.
She had begun her life as a twig
carefully carried home from school
by my second-grade son on Arbor Day.
He chose her spot and planted her.
She was barely visible on the lawn
and was mowed down at least once.
Amazingly, she rooted herself and grew.
By the time my son left home,
she was a grand shade tree
a beautiful reminder
of a little boy
with big expectations.
Now, almost forty years later,
she is gone,
and I am grieving.
Part of me says she was just a tree.
Maybe I shouldn’t have loved her so much.
Then I think—why not love a tree?
Or a dahlia.
Or a yard full of violets.
Why not love a sunrise,
a sunset?
Why not let the heart break
at a beauty so generous,
so fragile.
Love feels loss,
but love never really loses.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

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The Word that Waved

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

Has a word ever waved to you
from something you were reading,
like a kid in school, hand held high,
Me! Me! Choose me!
“Expansive.”
The word waved to me,
sat up and saluted,
highlighted itself,
and I paused,
right then,
right there,
hooked and held.
Expansive.
The word unfolds
like opening hands,
arms swinging out,
stretching,
reaching beyond.
Expansive
raises my head,
puts a smile on my face
fills me with a feeling of all’s well.
Expansive says,
“Here is the gift,
sun warming your face,
breath of air flicking your hair,
call-and-response, bird to bird,
scent of blooming and greening things,
the embrace of invisible strands
of love and goodness
weaving through the universe,
vining and twining and blooming
in small acts of generous grace
or large acts of courage and kindness.
Expansive says
there is room—
room for you,
room for me,
room for all of us
in this universe of abundant,
all-embracing
love and goodness
that flow freely
like light seeping through cracks,
like springwater bubbling up through rocks,
like breezes drifting through open windows.
Love and goodness
find their way,
refuse to be bound,
refuse to be hoarded,
grow and overflow.
They wave—“Choose me”—
for love and goodness
are forever and always
expansive.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

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The Salty Spray of Memory

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

Sometimes

all the wrong choices I’ve made

come at me like a returning tide.

With the force of a wall of water,

they hit me full in the face,

wave after

wave

threatening to drown me in

regret.

It’s all I can do to keep my footing

on this rocky beach

and let it wash over me.

For it will wash over—

I’m familiar enough with this

edge of the ocean

to know that much.

The tide that comes in will

recede,

and I will find that I am still standing,

God only knows how,

but

drenched,

I stand in the sunlight of grace,

drip dry,

breathe the salty spray of memory

deeply in,

deeply out

until my breath comes without

hitching.

Peace returns

with the hope that

as long as I am still standing,

still breathing,

then with grace,

with peace,

with love,

I can

sometimes

turn the tide.

-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

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A Pure Stream of Blue

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

There’s a sweet sadness,

a pure stream of blue

rippling with love and longing,

a catch in the heart,

a hitch in the breath,

hands open and empty

because of

love,

outstretched hands

palms up,

cradling sweet longing,

holding sweet space.

This is a knowing sadness,

a generous and gracious sadness,

a soft sadness,

full of memories of souls

who have flown,

a sadness relinquishing

what was never meant

to be held forever

but like a pillow

still holds the dips and curves

of one who has risen,

empty yet not empty,

traces of the one who is loved,

the sweet sadness

rippling in a pure stream of blue

that will always be.

-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

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Petal by Fascinating Petal

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

Wisdom does not automatically

come with old age.

The young closed mind

can easily become

the old closed mind.

But I am blessed to have friends who,

as they’ve aged,

have opened

like roses unfolding

petal by fascinating petal,

revealing the beauty of wisdom

born of years of

patience,

pain,

experience.

The opening of the petaled heart

is a kind of letting go—

letting go of demands,

of expectations,

of self-importance,

of the arrogance of certainty—

and settling into the easy breath

of not knowing,

of receiving what is and

releasing the rosy scent of love,

and joy,

and peace

into the world.

Wisdom does not automatically come

with old age,

but old age is often where

wisdom dwells.

– kh –

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature from the last snow:

Shadow of the week:

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Carry the Calm

Karyn Henley

love

Biting Into a New Year

Sharing a Shadow

Time and Love

Dreaming Between Photographs

Love Holds the Weight

Why Not Love a Tree?

The Word that Waved

The Salty Spray of Memory

A Pure Stream of Blue

Petal by Fascinating Petal