I am catching my breath today in the midst of a whirlwind. In the past two weeks, I have closed escrow on my home in Petaluma, flown to New York where I met with Mark Adamo, the composer of The Gospel of Mary Magdalene, and moved from one place of splendor (Bishop's Ranch, the bucolic retreat center in the wine country of Sonoma) to another ( a floating houseboat in Sausalito with a view of the San Francisco Bay from the rooftop garden). Tomorrow, I fly off again, this time to Los Angeles to see the premiere of John Adams' oratorio, The Gospel According to the Other Mary, and to spend time with my beloved daughter who is a first year student at UCLA,
It is a threshold of beginnings, and as I settle into a new life, I do indeed have the sense that David Whyte conveys so beautifully in this poem- that everything, if we only have the eyes to see it, is a doorway to awakening, wonder and belonging.
EVERYTHING IS WAITING FOR YOU
Your great mistake is to act the drama
as if you were alone. As if life
were a progressive and cunning crime
with no witness to the tiny hidden
transgressions. To feel abandoned is to deny
the intimacy of your surroundings. Surely,
even you, at times, have felt the grand array;
the swelling presence, and the chorus, crowding
out your solo voice. You must note
the way the soap dish enables you,
or the window latch grants you freedom.
Alertness is the hidden discipline of familiarity.
The stairs are your mentor of things
to come, the doors have always been there
to frighten you and invite you,
and the tiny speaker in the phone
is your dream-ladder to divinity.
Put down the weight of your aloneness and ease into
the conversation. The kettle is singing
even as it pours you a drink, the cooking pots
have left their arrogant aloofness and
seen the good in you at last. All the birds
and creatures of the world are unutterably
themselves. Everything is waiting for you.
~ David Whyte ~