In spite of war

A old poem for now

Hey dear ones,

I’m currently in Lake Titicaca, Peru co-leading a group with my long-time friend and compadre don Jorge Luis Delgado and beloved heart sister Marie Mbouni. This morning I woke up to a spectacular view, and finally clarity and peace after a few days of feeling heartbroken, stretched in the horror of what is happening and the tension of conflicting views in the current war between Gaza and Israel, and very, very ill.

I always know when I get sick that my body is needing rest and integration. So I stayed in bed for the day, feverish and letting the combination of the breathtaking beauty I am surrounded by (Machu Picchu! The Urubamba River! The mountains! Our incredible group of 57 people!) mix with my own inner tension around how to hold and process and share about the conflict in the Holy Lands of Palestine and Israel.

As a spiritual teacher and author do I take the 10,000 foot view and just remind everyone that all is love and all is light? (The answer: NO.) Do I just ignore the most current explosion of the humans killing each other? (Again, no.) Do I drown in this latest conflict so that it is all I think about, feeling guilty for being in a place of beauty while people are dying? (Again, no.) Do I need to make a stand as many people are demanding, or do I pretend to remain unaffected and go on as if nothing is going on? (If you’ve ready my previous writing, The White Deer, you know that I am not unaffected, and do not believe we should ignore what is happening globally. And I also don’t believe we should think we can or should carry all the burdens of the world. I believe in taking action, finding peace, and learning to let our hearts open in the contradictions of this precious time we have on the planet.)

So today I share a poem, written by Angela Morgan, an American poet who lived through both World Wars.

For my paid Substack followers: tomorrow I’ll post a video of me reading this poem and a sharing from my heart to yours. (If you are not a paid subscriber, consider becoming one for only $9 a month; it means the world to me. You’ll receive monthly special videos and a space to ask for specific advice, receive cheerleading, or request a story.)

May we continue to expand our hearts to hold both the song of the flowers and the cries of the children in war; to acknowledge both the harm we bring to one another and ourselves and the courage and brilliance of humans. And to take the time to drink in the wisdom of the flowers calling us back to this moment.

In Spite of War By Angela Morgan

In spite of war, in spite of death,
In spite of all man’s sufferings,
Something within me laughs and sings
And I must praise with all my breath.
In spite of war, in spite of hate
Lilacs are blooming at my gate,
Tulips are tripping down the path
In spite of war, in spite of wrath.
“Courage!” the morning-glory saith;
“Rejoice!” the daisy murmureth,
And just to live is so divine
When pansies lift their eyes to mine.

The clouds are romping with the sea,
And flashing waves call back to me
That naught is real but what is fair,
That everywhere and everywhere
A glory liveth through despair.
Though guns may roar and cannon boom,
Roses are born and gardens bloom;
My spirit still may light its flame
At that same torch whence poppies came.
Where morning’s altar whitely burns
Lilies may lift their silver urns
In spite of war, in spite of shame.

And in my ear a whispering breath,
“Wake from the nightmare! Look and see
That life is naught but ecstasy
In spite of war, in spite of death!”

A field of cosmos in the Sacred Valley, Peru that soothed my soul. And those mountains! This land sings: all is well. All is well. All is well. And I also know that in other parts of the world, things are far, far from well.