on the contrary

life in an upside-down world

what if stevie stopped wondering
what if the grateful weren’t dead
what if the doors never opened
what if the blues had been red

what if it doesn’t come out in the wash
what if the ends never meet
what if actions go suddenly silent
and words are too loud when they speak

what if by stroke of stupidity
the wild things cancel the rumpus
the prince, now hefty, wants to be king
and goodness is no longer gracious

what if the envelope learned to push back
what if teeth really did have skin
what if we followed the rule of finger
what if we looked where we’d been

you’re much better early than always
must you stay so soon
what if you freed your horses
while I pulled down the moon

Last week, I took part in Quiet 15, a pre-recorded workshop, a course, a virtual, asynchronous gathering of women from all over the world. With a focus on stillness and the sacred, it featured conversations with 15 women, plus guided, daily, 15-minute meditations. I hadn’t gone off in search of it—it found me through one of the guest speakers, Jan Blencowe at

Hedge Mystic

—but when it turned up I was instantly inclined to join.

You see, stillness is not my strong suit. Despite regular yoga classes, the craft of writing, and year upon year of being in community with circles of precious friends who help keep me centered and supported, I have never managed consistency when it comes to doing nothing. Call it sitting in silence, or moving in silence, or meditation, or mindfulness, or a spiritual practice, whatever label you want to attach to it, I think of it as a tool to guide me out of my head and into connection with the parts of myself I am apt to ignore. And I think it would be fair to say I suck at it, except I’m not allowed to judge my performance.

So, I joined this event, this summit as it was sometimes called, with a hopeful mind and an imperfect track record. Unable to get through the rich content offered each day, I immediately fell behind. The irony of having too much to do to do nothing was my weeklong source of wry amusement. Thankfully, the space was left open for a few extra days, giving me a chance to experience it fully, even if somewhat off-schedule.

I have not had a glorious epiphany. There were no magical beings, mystical archangels, or rainbows shooting out of any of my body parts. I’m not here to rave about a sudden lightness of being. Not yet, anyway. But I am committed to carrying on. New habits require discipline until the neural pathways have been successfully carved, and while this isn’t my first attempt at getting this road built, I feel an encouraging shift in attitude this time around. I’m owning the paradox differently, stepping into the contrast between what I say I want and what I do about it. There is accountability attached to putting this in writing. I’ll revisit the topic with you down the way a piece, and I promise to be honest about how it’s going.

The world feels so terribly out of step right now. Life is full of atrocities, inequalities and contradictions, some more easily reconciled than others. If ever there were a time to allow for more agency from something outside ourselves—from ancestors, teachers, from poetry and prayer—I believe that time is now.

~Elizabeth

Friends, I’m eager to learn about practices that help you feel less unsettled, and about how you make the time. How long did it take for the habit to develop and how do you keep it fresh? Does poetry ever rise out of you like it does me? This is an equal opportunity place, so all views are welcome. I’d be delighted to hear from you in the comments, or just let me know that something in here made something in you go, “ahh-a” by liking, or sharing, this post. I’m grateful you’ve chosen to be in this community today.

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