Poetry

Believe in the Darkness

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / 1 Comment

Believe in the darkness

and the spaces in between

for these are your teachers –

where you are forced to face your demons

and stare down the face of emptiness.

It is here, in the void, where all wisdom lies.

Where your sharpened edges are made smooth

by sitting with your discomfort

and sense of unease.

As life grows darker you must become small.

Contracting all you are –

your hopes

and dreams

and childhood wishes –

until you disappear into the no-thing,

until you become one with the no-thing.

until you become the no-thing itself.

It is here in the greatest stage of contraction

when all becomes invisible –

indistinguishable from the darkness

and emptiness of the void

where you shall glimpse the infinite potential

that resides at the center of nothing

and feel the rising pressure of a new world waiting to be born.

Believe in the darkness.

copyright Lauri Ann Lumby

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Living Monastic

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

As an unmarried adult woman of a certain age, living monastic looks a lot differently than how one might imagine. I’m not living in a convent. I haven’t taken vows of chastity, celibacy, or poverty. I don’t wear a habit. I sometimes wear sensible shoes, but only as a matter of comfort, not because it’s dictated by my order. Instead, I’m free to date (if I ever find anyone worthy). I dress as I choose. I earn less than the median income for where I live, but that’s a matter of choice not imposition. I live in a comfortable apartment by myself that I have turned into my personal sanctuary.

Monastic living for me is less about the externals (how things appear from the outside) and more about the ways in which I choose to spend my time and how I choose to be in the world.

Time, for me, is a precious commodity, and one I use wisely. I don’t waste my time on meaningless interactions or the expectations of our culture. Instead, my time is spent in the way in which I want to spend it which starts and ends with silence. As an introvert, I thrive in silence. Silence is my practice. It’s how I tune into myself and Source. Silence is my prayer, my meditation, and my life-blood. Silence is the place I begin each day and to what I return when I find myself disturbed by the world or by my own unhealed wounds. It is in silence that I find comfort, guidance, and healing and often how I share my own gifts like the times I feel called to send healing and love to our broken world. My entire day revolves around this silence and I guard it with my life.

Everything else revolves around that silence including all the doing that must be done in order to exist in this world – managing a household, taking care of chores, grocery shopping, cooking, working to earn a living, (this is the chop wood and carry water part of monastic living), and all the things I do for my own growth and enjoyment – reading, watching TV, writing, spending one on one time with friends, hanging out with my children, doing yoga, and being out in nature.

Also surrounding this silence are all the ways in which I show up in service to humanity – as a spiritual counselor and mentor to others, facilitating classes or groups, officiating at a funeral, and executing my office manager duties at a local ballet studio.  These are just the things that look official – you know, a vehicle for sharing my gifts and for making a living (chop wood carry water).

Beyond these obvious ways of doing is an even deeper showing up for me. This showing up is not about what I DO, but about how I BE. This being includes – being generous, being kind, being thoughtful, being welcoming, being friendly, being gentle, and sometimes being fierce. If I were to give a word to all this being, it would be LOVE – the kind of Love that isn’t all rainbows and unicorns but is sometimes like a shield or a sword – cutting through the bullshit, setting and maintaining boundaries, saying no, and being really really real with the challenges, difficulties, and evils in our world. Sometimes love is delivered in hard truths that some just don’t want to hear, at other times it’s delivered gently, but it is forever and always about love.

Living monastically in the modern world is a personal and counter-cultural choice that I know is not for everyone, but it is 100% for me. Arriving here has been almost sixty years in the making and I’m grateful for all of the experiences that have led me here.

A Poet’s Life

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / 2 Comments

This morning I was reminded of why poets are so often misunderstood. This reminder came in the form of an innocent enough social media post where I shared the following words:

These are sentiments of a feeling I had for one single second – no longer than the blink of an eye or an intake of breath.  The feeling surfaced. Followed by the awareness. Then I wrote about it. I felt it for a few more moments. Then it was gone. I didn’t dwell on it. I didn’t wallow in it. I didn’t self-flagellate over it. I felt it. I gave it a name. I gave the name a form.  Then it was done.

But that was not how social media understood it. Many took my sharing to mean I was feeling badly or depressed. Some thought I was sad or hurting. Others shared words of comfort or support.  I’m grateful for the expressions of support, but in that moment, I was really and truly fine. I was no longer feeling the feelings that sought form through my words. Perhaps these expressions of support were reflections of the senders’ own pain. Perhaps my words hit their own nerve. To these I offer support in return. But truly, I am fine.

Such is the life of a poet. The feelings of my words had passed. But there is truly no way for others to understand this. There is also no way that those who are not poetically inclined to understand the burning need to give expression to experience and words to what we feel. We just can’t help it.  These experiences become a burning inside that has to be released. For a poet – this release comes in the form of words. Patti Smith once said, “To be an artist is to see what others cannot.” I would suggest being a poet is to feel what others cannot and then be compelled to put that into word.

I can’t speak for other poets, but I know for myself, in addition to having no choice but to give expression to experience, I am also compelled to send it off into the world. Not because I want pity or attention, but in case there are others who have shared this experience and perhaps don’t yet have words for it, or permission to feel it. I write so others might experience validation, comfort, assent, or even consent. I hope that in sharing my words I might be giving another what they need to better know and understand themselves. For what better purpose could a poet possibly live?

Lauri Ann Lumby is the author of eleven published books, including five volumes of poetry. You can find her books on Amazon.com and other online resellers.

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Still the One

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / 2 Comments

I’m still the one

who knelt before You

waiting to be of use.

The pious child.

Hands folded.

Earnestly praying:

“I offer everything to You

and for the poor souls in purgatory.”

Earth is purgatory.

Billions of poor souls crying out in pain.

Begging to be heard.

Pleading for their thirst to be quenched.

That unquenchable, eternal thirst

that is only, always and forever for You.

I am the one still praying

and wanting to be of use.

Use me.

Tearing Down the Walls of Blame and Shame

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

Prayers for a Humanity That Cannot See

I pray for a humanity that cannot see.

Lifetimes pursuing a pointless dream.

If I shout it from the rooftops or scream into the void

they’ll finally seek no more to destroy.

Lay down their arms, their fingers of blame,

tear down the walls of ignorance and shame.

Cross the divide and take down the towers

of those to whom they’ve given their power.

But alas I find they don’t want to fix.

Choosing life over death – the puppetmaster’s trick.

Heartbreaking and tragic the decision they’ve made

I watch as together they dig their own grave.

Like the death-watch beetle I speak forth their doom –

No longer later, it’s coming quite soon.

Shifting my gaze from repair to surrender

visions of new I now can remember.

The seeds have been planted, builders coming through

it’s the new world that beckons to those who see true.

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Boneyard Poet

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

Boneyard Poet

I am the Boneyard Poet

always singing them goodbye.

To the empires always crumbling

right before my eyes.

In Church and School you’ve heard me

keening lullabyes

‘neath windows of forefathers’ vision

of beautiful spacious skies.

Standing as dark witness

and catalyst of change,

herald’s trumpet blowing

“It’s time to rearrange.”

Upending the corporate ladder –

ceilings becoming floors.

Shuttering all the windows

and locking every door.

Branding each “Momento Mori”

While singing their goodbye

“We’re better off without you,”

The Boneyard Poets cry!

copyright Lauri Ann Lumby

Lauri Ann Lumby is the author of 10 books, including four volumes of poetry. Lauri’s books are all available in paperback and Kindle, and two are available on Audible.

Visit Lauri’s Bookstore HERE