Life told me
there’s nothing I need
to prove to anyone,
Life told me
there’s no way it can lose
What I may see as precipice,
as last chance, as desperate race,
it sees as gentle presence,
all the time in the world
and no time at all –
time for its sweet lesson,
taking us each by the hand,
inducting us into the secret
of its being all that is.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 4, 2022
(Moments, 2nd iteration)
Where there has been euphoria –
light whipped like blond curls
triumphant in the wind,
sailing down the sound,
light pooled like coals
in the aftermath of dance,
light felt as heat
in the warm coursing deep within –
These moments have been places
where the veil was somehow rendered
more transparent –
where a faint gleam of true essence
has wakened me, if only slightly,
to what is present always,
and I think it’s fine
to seek, in each moment,
the place of thinning
where the eternal light
floods into view.
©Wendy Mulhern
April 12, 2021
(from the virtual biking philosopher’s virtual notebook)
Well, you’re right – no moment
is inherently more fraught
or more luminous
than another. Each one contains
things for us to notice, or not. Each can be
a portal – to memory, to comprehension.
Each has its own singular shine
in right here and now
Even the times of tears, of dark waters,
have their luminosity. Even the direst strait
has its laughter. And it’s not like you can shop for moments, online or at a store –
you can’t choose out your bargain moment,
or pay with many for one of great price
The afternoon sun sifts under the trees
and sets the moss aglow. The wind
pauses and starts up again. Many birds
proclaim the brightness of their busy lives.
Each moment bears witness.
©Wendy Mulhern
April 11, 2021
As if coming, after a long hike,
to the banks of a strong river,
as if taking off my shoes,
as if feeling the rapid daunting coolness,
and considering immersion
So I come
to the certainty of knowing
that all my temporality
must be turned in, given up,
exchanged for the existence
that precedes and follows time,
a state of being
too large and bright to be confined
in narrow, time dimensioned channels
I start to see the things I must give up –
some dear, some foolish –
and I feel,
if not now, soon,
I will be ready.
©Wendy Mulhern
March 2, 2021
We’ve learned to be patient
with things that take time –
so many things take so much more time
than we imagined
Imagining can be a first step.
So can starting up early,
getting things going so they can be ready –
a fire of coals, a boiling kettle,
the readiness to listen and receive
Up here in the city we still wait –
for our ancient laptops
and our sluggish internet.
Patience remains useful,
as does foresight, and preparation,
not overwhelming what our hands can hold,
just willingness to let each thing unfold.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 10, 2021
Time turns back and laughs
at how it has tricked me,
saying I had to wait,
had to wait for my time,
and then informing me
that I’m too late –
I’ve missed it, I’ve missed out –
all my time of waiting
was the time I could be doing,
could have availed myself
of all those promises
I sat around and waited for
But I will laugh at time,
for it has never owned me –
my life unfolds in a whole different sphere –
I never was too early, but it’s also not too late –
I live in the infinity of here.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 14, 2020
In the soft damp morning I consider
(while turkeys bathe in dirt, and baby swallows
chitter when their parents swoop in)
how our whole life is just a shimmer,
just a snuggle, along the course of time
It has its arc, it has
what feel to us like struggles,
what seem to us like dramas,
complicated and drawn out
But they are just a trill, a flash,
something that comes round again,
resolves itself into the tone
of our sweet, precious essence,
triumph of a chord well played,
taste of iridescent light,
filigree of love within the song of Life.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 30, 2020
The days spiral into summer
despite my feeling
that the spring is unwound,
that we’re done with cycles,
now catapulting off in some unknown direction,
no longer able
to predict anything
Yet I already can feel
the rolling into fall, feel the prick
of cool upon my skin, the smell
of turning leaves
I just don’t know in what way
we’ll be there with them,
whether we’ll be able to pull our feet
into the capsule and shut the door
so as to be along for the ride.
©Wendy Mulhern
May 29, 2020
I reflect on the present times
when I’ve run afoul of the temporal —
burning the chicken,
letting mold destroy the car —
things are fine
until the moment when they’re not,
and then there is no turning back
All things temporal
can tumble …
There is a grace that rides along the top
of all events,
and cooks things perfectly,
and cares for all things well,
and, centered in the present,
is not slave
to how things fall
And though I stand here in this shambles
(such a mess to reckon with)
my next step
is not from here.
All things in time fall down
but grace will stand me on the ground.
©Wendy Mulhern
March 1, 2020
This time in our lives
joy collects in deep reservoirs
in the slow spaces where time
has made room,
in the lack of will to worry
and the willingness to accept
The widened shapes of our feet
echo a broader knowledge
of what can happen
and how much of that
doesn’t matter at all
Appreciation is a ripe fruit
we can pick without judgment
in the ease of laughter
(less work than fretting)
and the lubrication of many past tears,
in the clarity of coming full
in the abundance of years.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 18, 2019