In times of imbalance in body, mind and spirit, I turn to the healing powers of the natural world. On a day when the heart of this retired healthcare worker ached with the rising numbers of COVID-19 deaths, I spent time at my beloved Prairiewoods.
My eye caught the bright yellow-green new growth of the weeping willow in juxtaposition beside a tree with no apparent life. At the time, I was studying the book The Soul’s Slow Ripening by Christine Valters Paintner led by Angie Pierce-Jennings at Prairiewoods.
The first chapter was the “Practice of Thresholds.” As I looked at the scene before me, I saw that Celtic threshold of “thin lines.” These are spaces between heaven and earth where these worlds of life and death are very close together. The scene before me mirrored our current experience in these unsettling times with this new virus.
My photo then caught the opening of the winding road as a threshold in the midst of these “thin lines.”
Daily we choose between positive and negative responses to our everyday challenges. My choice now was to step forth in joyful prayer as I opened my eyes to all the beautiful spring growth surrounding me in the woods. Or I could stay stuck at the crossroad of grief over the dying. As I looked at the scene in front of me, many thoughts of love, peace and compassion flowed forth. I captured random thoughts and placed them in the set pattern of a poetic pantoum. This form takes thoughts and arranges them in that set pattern with often surprising results. I have included it here.
My photo and poem guided me to sort out my feelings and to center and balance me once again as I stepped forth across this threshold along my journey.
2020Pantoum Pandemic Threshold
Thresholds beckon me
Thin places between life and death
Spring willow weeps tears of love
Pine stands tall no longer evergreen
Thin places between life and death
Winding path leads me to the edge
Pine stands tall no longer evergreen
Stars of hope invisible at Dawn still shine forth out of darkness
Winding path leads me to the edge
Spring willow weeps tears of love
Stars of hope invisible at Dawn still shine forth out of darkness
Thresholds beckon me
—Janith Shoning-Griffith, friend of Prairiewoods