Heather Pound

Today I am not tasked to solve all this world’s ills

Today is just a normal day with ordinary things

And to be completely honest on this day I do not think

That I have anything left that is remarkable to give

~~~~

So today I spend my time seeking only simple things  

Moments of beauty, pauses of peace

Like the sound of gentle raindrops pat-patting on fresh grass

The salty smell of wind as it blows in off the sea

Or sitting in companionable silence with someone that I love

~~~~

It is in these ordinary ways, on normal routine days

That show us who we are and what we’ll be

What habits do we cultivate, what values do we hold

What will we do with passions and with time

These simple things assembled are how we spend our days

And in the end, they’re how we’ll live our lives

~~~~

Don’t underestimate the power of an ordinary life

For every person who has done extraordinary things

Has still lived their life daily one humdrum moment a time

With many days consisting of just normal, average things

~~~~

–simple and faithful is how to change the world.

©Heather Pound 2021

“Everybody wants a revolution. But no-one wants to do the dishes.” -Craig Greenfield

The place where our souls find rest

Space and peace in the middle of the storm

It’s a destination of value and seeking it is

Of more worth than things like

Pleasing others, popularity, or fame

~~~~

There is power in the ‘calm’

It does not mean that you have all the answers

Or that you don’t care deeply for the needs of others

It is not withdrawn

It is simply a space in our souls that stays in the present

And gives voice to things

Like creativity and peace

~~~~

—–and don’t we need a bit more of that in our world?

©Heather Pound 2021

Today is blustery, miserable and damp

One of those spring days that you must endure

For all the glorious ones that will come

But as the wind screams fierce at my window

Two little quail peck happily in my garden

Fat and fluffy, plumes on top cheerfully dancing as if to say

While I watch in stillness from porthole above,

“You can praise the strong wind for our choice of shelter

We relish this break that your hedge provides

And this soggy turf is ideal in the searching for worms.”

So, as the wind continues to howl

I nod back in cheerful realisation that

If it wasn’t for the less than perfect day

I would have missed seeing something else

Perfectly beautiful indeed

~~~~

–there are treasures worth noticing in the midst of imperfect

©Heather Pound 2021

There was a time when trauma roared, vibrations under skin, constant

And inappropriately escalating whenever it chose

Electrified brain, galloping heart, splintered vision, at odds with thought

And despotically, cold-heartedly—-

Inconvenient

~~~~

When the most basic parts of our brains are confused

The ‘off’ and ‘on’ switch stuck tiresomely in-between

Trying to help, but just—–

Dysregulated

~~~~

The fortunate ones can one day speak of such things

Gloriously in past tense. Not meaning that sounds do not startle

Adrenaline too easy to find

But increasingly more pliant, manageable

More often than not

~~~~

It is as if one day after the sacred, demanding work that is healing

We choose to climb out of cocoon, released

Look up at the sky, unfurl soft wings and say,

“This space that I’ve been in, it no longer fits

I need to move about, wobble away. Because

This has been my story, will always be my story, but

My life is now bigger than this”

~~~~

—–there is hope within the cocoon of trauma and PTSD. And I heard a cancer survivor say, “I had cancer, but my life is getting bigger than this.”

©Heather Pound 2021

—–make self-care a part of each and every day!

I used to think that papaya tasted like cheap perfume

Until while living in the islands, one sprang up right outside my front door

The freshness must intensify the goodness, I reckon

Flesh still warm from the sun, juice dripping

Scraping away so many black balls of seeds before scooping.

Dropping those seeds straight into the rubbish because that same tree taught me

That for a plant that springs up fast, tall, appealing, and willowy in the wind

The roots, what is beneath the surface, are ruthless

Because one day very little water came from the tap. And when we found the culprit

It was that jolly pawpaw tree

Tempting us with its fruit, but roots spreading through pipes.

The plumber that knew about these things said that you just can’t let one spring up

Right up against the house

The damage that comes is swift and unexpected. And surprisingly fierce

So to taste that sweetness, you need to take a few steps away from your walls

Stretching your legs even a little bit

Protecting your boundary, what is important, from the tyranny of something

That looks pleasant in the moment, but can wreck your supply or something vital

©Heather Pound 2021

Today I choose to gather

Dewy fresh, not yet dried by the sun

Soft green stems, unaffected by wind

Bits and pieces, present; but often brushed aside, unnoticed—Joy

I will gather, not because it is scarce, but because without it

What is a life to be lived?

It is the food that sustains us, yet we try to survive

With stolen morsels, a guilty pleasure

Quickly consumed lest someone else notice

Then back to more important things at hand

~~~~

But what is a life without joy?

Grasp it by the face and kiss its mouth

It is companionship not only sweet, but

Necessary to ease the cracks in our souls

To soften calloused flesh within

~~~~

I will gather joy now while it may be found

Like jewels layered beneath thick autumn leaves  

Not really hidden, yet inconspicuous, unseen

Until you pay attention and catch the glimmer

Where the sun breaks through the trees and shines

And bending down you rustle and grasp that which sparkles

To put it in your pocket

~~~~

——-let gathering joy become a habit.

©Heather Pound 2021

When you have so much ‘to do’ take a moment and just ‘be’

The list will still be there but your peace might not

~~

Stop. Feel the warmth of the sun. Listen to the twitter of the bird.

Really look out the window, just stare.

Touch the texture of the fabric. Breathe in the crisp autumn air.

Taste the crème of your coffee. Feel your feet on the floor.

The order doesn’t matter, the specifics a random suggestion

Just the noticing

Engaging your senses

Then, just be present———

For at least a few hundred beats of your heart.

Breathe in, breathe out, and be

~~

This is the vital thing, what connects you to yourself

Gives the brain a chance to quiet the worry and whisper what is best

Your heart a chance to feel, tense muscles relax

Physiology working in harmony

~~

Teach your body to remember this space

This necessary dialing down, honouring the container that serves you

The soul that feeds you

Listen to what it wants to tell you

~~

–If we don’t listen, our body finds ways to tell us anyway! And they may not be preferred.

©Heather Pound 2021.

Mental Health Week was LAST week in New Zealand, but better later than never!

I think just like about everyone else in the world this past year, my thoughts have been more fragmented. There has been a LOT going on! Especially so personally as I’ve been working and studying at the same time.

While writing is good, even cathartic, for my soul, my words have become less and had left me a bit parched (especially after writing long papers for my study!). But the sometimes slower pace of life, especially during lockdowns, has given me a chance to be present and connect with my inner world in ways more than I have for years.

And this has brought me back to my love of poetry.

What is it about a poem that says in one page such a huge story? It’s a pared down connection to the Great Conversation of life that often says more simply by being less. It gets to the heart of the matter in a way that leaves the reader to draw their own conclusions and have their own response to the words.

Powerful stuff.

I’ve been reading quite a bit of my favourite modern poet, Liezel Graham, who often writes from a supporting mental health perspective that has challenged me to do the same. That’s obviously close to my heart, too, since that’s what my studies are about!

I’m currently reading Devotions a collection of Mary Oliver’s poems. They’re stunning and I’ve been absorbing them a few pages at a time.

Someone asked me yesterday if I was still blogging and after I said, “Ummm nah, I haven’t for a while,” it reminded me that I still DO have a blog and I might as well start sharing some poems. (I might write other stuff, too. Who knows?)

Hope is a huge theme for me, so I have picked this first one to share because, just like the tattoo on one of my daughter’s shoulders says, “There is always hope.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the terrible night of our souls, when senses only find storm

We long to dull those senses, block out the pain

Roll into fetal— protect

But even though it hurts, more than we think we can bear

If we keep open our eyes, if only to squint

And take our hands from our ears, every now and again

We might be surprised

Because pain, the offender, doesn’t journey alone

Whether he brings them, or they have grasped onto him fierce

As if to say, “There is always hope.” There are gems

Things to refresh, like a cup of cold water to parched

A lucky find, they wait to be gathered

Things like healing, and life might be worth living, and kindness

If we grasp them in our hands to keep our ears uncovered

We might just begin to hear the song, under the surface, but louder grows

Of dreams, and longings, and the hope of beautiful things

That feed our soul in the darkness, instruct us in the deeper things of life

Until dawn

And beyond

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

©Heather Pound 2021.