125) If I Could Write a Poem

I want to write a poem about beauty and love and laughter and kindness and inspiration and heroes, about Grandma’s hands, and Grandpa’s chuckles,  and the smell of the dog I had as a child and the sweet tartness of apples and the purring pleasure of an orgasm and snowflakes sparkling in sunlight and those moments when you feel hushed and perfect and there’s no need to say anything,

Like a child wants an ice cream cone that tastes like everything amazing, and lasts forever.

But when pen hits paper, it spits rage and loss, grief and sorrow, confusion, hopelessness, and the sinking-into-my-depths knowing that this living world I love is dying,

Like a child with an ice cream cone that tastes like everything amazing, but with one lick, the fucker falls to the ground, now covered in dirt and a cigarette butt.

I want to tell you about the times I have looked through Ancient Eyes opening in my chest, about the magnetism that stops me in my tracks sometimes when I am walking past what must be a sacred place, even if it now looks like a sidewalk, about the bolts of sentient lightning that sometimes blast out of the Earth, rush through my body and shoot into the sky like a firework bigger than the sun,

But if I do, people might think I’m crazy, or bullshitting, especially if they themselves have not yet experienced the palpable presence of the All and therefore believe this material world is Everything.

I want to sing about turtles and how awesome it must be to feel invulnerable, to swim in lakes and rivers of living water.

But turtles are dying, in lakes and rivers of plastic, and oil, and birth control hormones, and endocrine disruptors.

I want to open my eyes so wide they take in every photon in all of creation,

But then I will also see every horror and sadness, including whoever is laughing at me.

I want to move my body like an ecstatic dancer, like a lover lost in lust, like a seagull surfing the wind,

But I have love handles, and back pain, and the dance moves of a white guy who grew up in a small town and cannot dance in a way that anybody would think is sexy.

I want to cry, to let tears roll down my cheeks like raindrops on leaves, like tumbleweed in a field, like children on a grassy slope,

But I was always told that crying is for the weak, for people too broken to care whether they look like they’ve had too many benders and are now too beaten to stand up proud and soldier on.

But….  I still want to write a poem about the things that stir my heart most deeply when I’m alone and silent enough to embrace my naked vulnerability, and feel Awe’s caress.  

Maybe I will someday.

  8 comments for “125) If I Could Write a Poem

  1. Kathy J Lukasik
    June 17, 2022 at 7:24 pm

    I love this and I so understand it too. You amaze me.

    • dandolderman
      June 17, 2022 at 7:34 pm

      Thank you KJ. That’s extremely kind of you. Much love right back at’cha.

  2. Anonymous
    June 18, 2022 at 12:09 am

    Thank you, Dan.

    • dandolderman
      June 18, 2022 at 3:07 am

      I’m glad you got something out of it! Thanks for letting me know. 🙂

  3. Anonymous
    June 19, 2022 at 2:49 pm

    Oh my Danny I can so relate to all of your feelings.So well said.Love you and keep being you….we are all struggling in so many ways.I have PTSD due to a horrible accident.So much goes through this crazy mind of mine.Just living day to day.I also hibernate A lot.Sending much love and Hugs…..❤️🥰❤️

    • dandolderman
      June 19, 2022 at 8:26 pm

      Thank-you “Anonymous”! It means a lot to know that you can relate to this….It is heartening to know that people relate to one’s experiences, isn’t it? It means…you’re not really alone even when it feels like you’re the only one…

  4. Jackie
    June 23, 2022 at 12:36 am

    Aw, so beautiful!! You are going to put the pseudo-shamans out of business, dispensing all this shamanistic wisdom for free. 🙂
    Seriously though, this is really lovely and moving and caused me to linger on the page for a long while. I think I read it five or six times. I do remember the feeling of walking back and forth over the same spot for 20 minutes thinking “ooohhh, so THIS must be a ley line!” I hope you keep writing poetry, Dan. I believe you can get to the end of the grief and hopelessness, once those aspects feel heard and acknowledged, and eventually get to the ice cream. 🙂

    • dandolderman
      June 23, 2022 at 10:56 pm

      Thank you, So Much, Jackie!! I love hearing that you have this ley line experience too! That is EXACTLY what crosses my mind too! I had it happen last time about a week ago; I was just walking down the sidewalk in the rain, really slowly, just ‘vibing’ with the sensuousness all around me, and BOOM. I was transfixed and had no idea why. I looked down the street, all wet and splashy, the torrent being the only noise, and just felt awe. The tree canopy, bent over the street, formed a little tunnel, and I felt SO much energy. I just stood there feeling awe. To my left was a plywood wall, blocking off a driveway, with a construction sign on it. The plywood was filled with knots, and in that moment, I was pretty sure they were all eyes. Because….everything is. So I smiled at them. Then peered through a gap at the building otherwise hidden by the plywood wall and fence surrounding the construction area. It was a Hindu temple. I thought, “Huh, that makes sense,” and wondered if it always felt energetically like that on the sidewalk, or if it was because of the construction, perhaps releasing the energy somehow. I dunno. But it doesn’t matter why; knowing That, is enough.

      I very much appreciate your hope. Thank you. I think the grief has, as of recently, been released. I don’t feel sorrowful anymore, at least not for my own personal experience of life. I really am Here, and….well, “mmmmmm, ice cream.” 🙂 The larger grief, the ecological grief, I am definitely not ‘over’, whatever that could mean. But the personal grief…I feel like I’ve let it work through me, and done what it needed to do.

      Actually, if you see this message, I do hope you come back; the release of personal grief happened just yesterday, and is going to be my next post. I’d be very interested in your thoughts on this!

      Can I ask? What do you do with your shamanic-like experiences? Do you cultivate them somehow? Or do they just happen? And perhaps more importantly, do you have a method or practice for integrating them into your life? Or is it more of an implicit process and you’re kind of “along for the ride”? I would really, really appreciate knowing what this is like for you. It’s rare that I, personally, meet people who have similar energetic-earth experiences….. 🙂


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