Finding the Field, By Jennifer Angelina Petro

Finding the Field

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

 

It’s there.

Inside.  And that

Is so easy

For me to say.

And for that, I am

Ever grateful.  For you,

It may not be.

The furthest thing

May be a field

Inside you.

It might be so far

Away it may as well

Not even be there.

You might be

Full of vast ink-

Oceans and fog

That moves as if

It was alive—the darkness

Might be so all

Encompassing you

Can’t imagine

Anything else in there.

Try this though—

Close your eyes, and take

As slow, deep a breath

To the count of four as you can,

Hold it gently to

The count of four,

Then exhale slowly

To the count of four,

Do this sequence three times

And then low

A field appears

In front of you, watch—

It might be golden wheat,

It might be soft green

And full of flowers,

It might be a field

Of sunflowers stretching as far

As the eye can see.

See the golden field

Sway as the wind touches

Each strand with so much

Tenderness, see how the field

Ripples with a river of joy from the touch,

See it—the sun—raying exquisitely

Humming light—honeyed

And warm; and see

Blue sky arching over

A perfectly color-

Coordinated relationship

With the field.

Notice you are

Standing just outside

The field. Realize

The wheat, the grass, the wild flowers

Nearly all come up

To your waist–

Except the sunflowers—

See them bowing their heads

To smile upon you—

And there you are just

On the edge of the field.

You reach out your hand,

And brush the top of the grass.

Now, you can either step into the field

Or you can turn around

Back to whatever it is

That’s behind you.  There

You have a choice:

Brilliant, luminous light-touched

Field, darkness that isn’t

The nourishing kind, but draining.

Whatever it is you choose,

Know this:  you now have

A field inside you,

And it will always be there,

It always has been there

Swaying beneath the breath

Of the one who loves you.

The next step is not just

Up to you.  I mean, it is, and also

There are forces–

Currents and hands

Pushing and pulling, guiding,

Persuading, nudging, influencing

The way.  And there are the ones

Who, for whatever the reasons

Cannot choose—illnesses of many kinds

Perhaps inhibit the ability to freely choose—

Those will all be born along

And cared for as they bloom

Into full health and radiance.

For those who can, and I believe

You are one of them—you

Are blessed to be able to choose. Finally, there

Appears a thousand fireflies

Floating and bobbing,

Right there, in the daylight,

Illuminating light upon light,

And whatever you do

When the time comes to decide,

Remember this: there is field inside you,

Swaying beneath the breath of the one

Who loves you.

 

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Some Thoughts on Seeing, by Jennifer Angelina Petro

Some Thoughts on Seeing

by

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

Vision depends on the amount of light the eye bends to its uses. The retina sees things upside down and needs the brain to flip the images right side up. As evening comes, the eyes tire and rebel against the light, and sleep passes over, closing them for the night.  And we dream, creating light inside ourselves, until dawn comes, awakening light within light, and we are flooded with things to touch and see, taste and smell, in short, to celebrate with our whole being.

Today, as the amount of light coming in from the world appears to be thinning, lessoning, I will make it my work to seek out more light and keep the aperture of the soul open. I will make it my work to create more light with sparks of humor or song, kindnesses and attention, calm words and softness of speech. And if I begin seeing things upside down, I will depend on the ideas of others to correct the image.

And if a time comes when the soul constricts–from fear or pain, closing off the light, then I will make it my work to seek out ways to ease the soul into opening, to coax it to look for, and to see, oceans of light in the hearts and minds of everyday people on everyday streets in everyday homes and towns across America.

Of course, sometimes the soul requires sleep and a time to dream its own dreams, some of which we never see.  And in those times of holy darkness, when I must become the moon to my soul, then I will sing in whispers and move quietly about the house so that my soul may rest.  And I will do the same for yours.  If your soul wearies and needs time to replenish its rivers and suns, then I will sing softly to you until you sleep without fear.

I am awake, and it is not too late.  In the soul’s time it is early, always early, and I open the pupils of my mind to new opportunities for vision and possibilities for drawing in more light through service and singing.  I allow the world to see the iris of my heart, risking everything to stand on the solid ground of peace—eyes wide open, looking for you.

 

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