Mattie Decker
Mattie Decker has been a writer of poems, memoir and nature writing for many years. She experiences writing as a way of healing and worship.
She also writes for teachers and publications in education, especially of her interest in innovative practices for all kinds of learners, "universal design for learning". She is a lover of birds and trees and all things natural and lives in the Daniel Boone National Forest where she teaches in the graduate school at Morehead State University in Kentucky. Her byword is from the Persian poet Rumi: "Let the beauty we love, be what we do." |
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Blessing
It may work like
this: I bless you; you bless him;
He blesses the doorway,
or the gate, or the book, which blesses those who pass through the doorway or
the gate, or hold the book a month from now, who then bless the sky, or the wren
in the sky, or the rock, the large one, and the small one which carries the
blessing, fresh and lightly held and felt in the breeze, or the zephyr miles
away. So the woman looks up , or
the child or even, they say, the duck—and sees the wren, or feels the zephyr,
light on its beak or nose or cheek and the blessing pushes the grim away, or
even, some believe, the hunger, or despair. Thus, joy remains; grace can travel as
surely as the hope that is so. No waste, no single act misses its
destination. Blessing is the
single most economical of substances which cannot be stopped or controlled; we
are awash in these blessings, always and everywhere.
It is a wise person who is schooled in the art of blessing, and of being blessed.
What about belief? He asked.
It is not required nor is it necessary at all.
If one is breathing, in, out,
one is blessing and BEING blessed.
Be sure to tell this, for these words are true and may be needed by those you meet.
Do not be concerned; no one is exempt. All are ever included.
Now you will come to understand, what before was mystery:
how joy “cometh in the morning” even, and perhaps especially, midst
difficulty or grief-filled days.
Always, the sun rises and always we begin again.
We cannot know this, but perhaps Joy embeds along the Sun’s rays.
this: I bless you; you bless him;
He blesses the doorway,
or the gate, or the book, which blesses those who pass through the doorway or
the gate, or hold the book a month from now, who then bless the sky, or the wren
in the sky, or the rock, the large one, and the small one which carries the
blessing, fresh and lightly held and felt in the breeze, or the zephyr miles
away. So the woman looks up , or
the child or even, they say, the duck—and sees the wren, or feels the zephyr,
light on its beak or nose or cheek and the blessing pushes the grim away, or
even, some believe, the hunger, or despair. Thus, joy remains; grace can travel as
surely as the hope that is so. No waste, no single act misses its
destination. Blessing is the
single most economical of substances which cannot be stopped or controlled; we
are awash in these blessings, always and everywhere.
It is a wise person who is schooled in the art of blessing, and of being blessed.
What about belief? He asked.
It is not required nor is it necessary at all.
If one is breathing, in, out,
one is blessing and BEING blessed.
Be sure to tell this, for these words are true and may be needed by those you meet.
Do not be concerned; no one is exempt. All are ever included.
Now you will come to understand, what before was mystery:
how joy “cometh in the morning” even, and perhaps especially, midst
difficulty or grief-filled days.
Always, the sun rises and always we begin again.
We cannot know this, but perhaps Joy embeds along the Sun’s rays.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Praise
Praise
Is my work, my occupation,
my day and night job.
I am joyfully and gainfully employed in praise.
I will live and do live in awe and reverence before the Source.
Your compassion is great
and extends to all and in all.
And
I am in the midst
of realizing how your Love for all creation
are dear to you.
How then
can I withhold any care or concern for anyone?
Is my work, my occupation,
my day and night job.
I am joyfully and gainfully employed in praise.
I will live and do live in awe and reverence before the Source.
Your compassion is great
and extends to all and in all.
And
I am in the midst
of realizing how your Love for all creation
are dear to you.
How then
can I withhold any care or concern for anyone?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hunters's Moon
I love the way
Words run through the
body
“I love this house” I said
to myself
as I walked across the darkened room
lights out at the end of the day.
No sooner were the words
Thoughts, unspoken,
The word ‘house’ the last of the
Phrase, I knew I felt, what
‘understatement’ means.
The truth lay underneath, deeper.
“I love this house” are pretty words,
and ones I would have thought
to be true.
But what welled up to meet the
words was so large, in a moment
a lightening strike of time.
I realize there ARE no words
No gratitude of explication large
Enough.
I may have to sing.
Words run through the
body
“I love this house” I said
to myself
as I walked across the darkened room
lights out at the end of the day.
No sooner were the words
Thoughts, unspoken,
The word ‘house’ the last of the
Phrase, I knew I felt, what
‘understatement’ means.
The truth lay underneath, deeper.
“I love this house” are pretty words,
and ones I would have thought
to be true.
But what welled up to meet the
words was so large, in a moment
a lightening strike of time.
I realize there ARE no words
No gratitude of explication large
Enough.
I may have to sing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Morning Haiku
Practice daily care:
Listen in the stillness first;
Then, act mindfully.
Listen in the stillness first;
Then, act mindfully.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Blueberries
I am going to bless you
No matter where you are from.
Just as my mother
Blesses me now
As I reach for her bowl
I put the cereal in,
Her beloved Wedgewood blue.
It happens just like that.
You, round, plump orb of darkest blue
With your sprout at the end
And so sweet now, in my mouth.
No matter where you are from.
Just as my mother
Blesses me now
As I reach for her bowl
I put the cereal in,
Her beloved Wedgewood blue.
It happens just like that.
You, round, plump orb of darkest blue
With your sprout at the end
And so sweet now, in my mouth.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Loving What Is
This morning I awoke in the early light, aware of
This writing in my heart and head. Rehearsing it for the page.
Loving what is
Is my work.
Feeling the ground beneath my feet as I walk,knowing
the blessed dawn, the mid-day and darkest evening time.
Loving what is
is my work and my play;
the red kayak resting, covered in fat wet flakes
the black oil sunflower seeds now filling the feeder
the happy animals fed and warm
the trees, my mentors, calling out to me to listen.
Listen. Pay Attention. Watch. BE PRESENT.
Love what is.
The miles between those who love—which both separate and connect.
The muddled minds, the broken hearts, the mending ones,
Loving what is
is all I want to do.
Not some idea of “embracing” the grief or pain or sadness and joy in this
broken, exquisite world: LOVING it. Loving it all. All.
Closing the Circle: No beginning, no ending. Breathing in (“for”) breathing out (“give”)
WHOLENESS IS this beautiful, aching, and brilliant world.