On Listening

I listen to my soul revealing itself in ink as I journal my morning pages every day. I listen to the divine as I read the cards, turning them over one by one, the mansion of quiet space inside making room for the echo of the message. I listen to the heart of my clients, to their intentions, fears and hopes under their words as they entrust me to read for them. I listen to the underlying affection and care of my loved ones, to their fears and desires and quiet offerings of themselves. I listen to my dreams at night in their wild peculiarities. I listen to the heartbeat of the earth in the song of the robin and the spunk of my cats and the sweet rain. 

In listening, I am filled with the gift of being heard. And I am reminded. 

I’m reminded that my work is sacred.

I’m reminded that my life is consecrated to beauty, honesty and love. 

I’m reminded that love is gravity. 

I’m reminded that attention quiets fear. 

I chose a poem to share with you on the last day of this moon cycle. It’s called “Lead,” and it’s by Mary Oliver. 

Here is a story

to break your heart. 

Are you willing?

This winter

the loons came to our harbor

and died, one by one, 

of nothing we could see. 

A friend told me

of one on the shore

that lifted its head and opened 

the elegant beak and cried out 

in the long, sweet savoring of its life 

which, if you have heard it, 

you know is a sacred thing,

and for which, if you have not heard it, 

you had better hurry to where 

they still sing. 

And, believe me, tell no one 

just where that is. 

The next morning 

this loon, speckled 

and iridescent and with a plan

to fly home 

to some hidden lake, 

was dead on the shore. 

I tell you this 

to break your heart,

by which I mean only 

that it break open and never close again

to the rest of the world. 

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