Nineteen Hats, Ten Teacups…

photo by Janusz Leszczynski

Such an emotional catharsis this week…sobbing one moment, stomping angrily the next. And strangely, no connection to what might be the cause, current or past. Sure, there were maddening moments and memories that brought some sadness, but the strength of the emotions was out of proportion. There was a process within me that I could not name.

Thankfully, in a chance meeting on the ferry with my friend Charlene, she offered up one word that resonated:  Longing.

So what, then, is this longing?

Cooper Edens has written a beautiful book titled “Nineteen Hats, Ten Teacups, and Empty Birdcage and the Art of Longing”.  He begins with these words:

“Longing, far more than it haunts you,
reminds you of your true name.”

I often turn to books to remind me what I know. And thumbing through this one took me on an inward journey that brought me this poem:

I breathe into the emptiness
my longing a taper not yet lit.

I sink into the warm bath of questions.

Now I must ask for the Great Answer
the One waiting in the shadows
the One reaching out a hand
to guide me.

Take me to the Centerpoint,
take me where the Conversation continues
long into the night,
the place where my Aloneness feels at Home.

Let me hear the whispers
of those asking the questions before me.
Let me hear some answers
I can name my own
in the Silence.

Fortune rests on the Great Opening,
the Welcoming in,
the Reaching out,
the Waiting.

And I can wait.

I want to get lost in my Aloneness.
I want to feel Her arms around me,
to drink from the full cup of Solitude

where I wait.

The bees have worn their bright leggings home,
the fire is lit,
they gather

like I gather
the Honey of my soul.

I have had the gift of Great Flowers
and it’s not too late.

It is simply the change of seasons
the time to let the Hive contain me
while winter upon winter I wait

as I have always done.

And this is the candle,
the light
toward which I walk
hand in hand with my Familiar,
my Resting Place a great womb
in which to spend the night,

the long, long night of waiting.

6 Thoughts

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