Haiku - A Practice in Noticing
Last year around this time, I was at the On Being Gathering. I was spiritually diving with a group of strangers. I was deeply moved.
I looked through my journal from that time and found haikus. John Paul Lederach said from the stage that he has a practice of writing haikus. He counts the syllables on his fingers while he goes from place to place. Occasionally he writes them down. He shared a few of his, and encouraged us to write our own.
I wrote them. I'm kind of delighted by them. Writing a haiku feels like skipping stones on a river. Aim just right and it hops and skips, heavy things turned lights as air, water holding up the rocks. So, in the tiniest little looking back to that life-changing weekend, here they are, the haikus I wrote after John Paul said to. Will you please write a haiku, too?
In you I met me,
Your face a mirror of mine.
You were always us.
Two new friends I made
Each gave me half their sandwich.
Thank you. I am full.
Plant love with your soles.
Hug a tree and hold your friend.
Witness her flying.
Writing these things down,
Trying to hold wind with hands.
Breathe. You are the wind.