My spine falls in winter rain and
pools in grainy puddles in my bones.
These days, my knees bend only in an act of faith while
Stepping slowly down from any height.
I remember gliding and the way I would melt into the shape of others —
How summer swayed my hips and caught the hungry bees
But now they lock and stick as if I’ve lost the key
Inside my bent and brittle ribs, underneath this open heart
That slips and skips and leaps across the slushing of the days
Beating loud against the narrow pane of time.

One day, 
from this bulbous, earthbound, papery body,
from the shape of a humble onion,
a Lily may grow;

I might emerge in Easter
resurrected and free and trumpeting halleluiah,
Or unfurl and stretch into Tiger’s pose, 
soft and silent in robes of shocking orange.

I could wake up in a Turk’s Cap,
Rakishly Istan-bullish, an old world with whole new eyes,
Or keep the watch of Stargazers, 
Looking far into the deep unknown with Galileo faith.

Or maybe I’ll find myself in murky swamps, 
be in them, and of them,
and still rise above them with 
the blushing float of a Water Lily.

For now,
I’ll just grow small and glorious in quiet shadows, 
my tiny white face just one of many others
lifted from Valleys 
by love.

All I know of being black
Is how his hands looked
When he peeled the orange in one unbroken curl
And offered me the center

The shock of skin against skin
And the long coiled mystery
Of how he carved a sun against the night of his palm
When I was just a child

And since then I hold the truth
Of Africa where we left him
In segments torn from the injured all
Twisted and fallen for me.

One of my favorite parts of the recent town hall with Hillary and Bernie was when they were asked to frame their ‘spiritual’ perspectives on the world. Paraphrasing, Bernie said whatever happens to the least of us, happens to us all – that injustice has always moved him deeply. And Hillary said she practices being grateful – she returns again and again to a place of gratitude.

While both of these are critical components of compassionate humanity and, I think, essential to a spiritual practice, here again we see a gentle, nuanced contrast between candidates – both are honest and lovely responses. But which of those answers resonated with you?

In my own life, gratitude saves me every day. But that’s now. I crawled my way toward gratefulness one hard knock at a time. There were many years when I was so broken down, I could not have even understood the concept of gratefulness, though surely, had I been able to, it would have helped. It would have been a very effective solution. But honestly, when I was really lost and down and out, if someone had suggested gratitude, it would have fallen on deaf ears. Worse, it may have alienated me further from the world. It would have been the right solution offered at the wrong time.

When people are hungry, and beaten, and incarcerated unjustly; when discriminated against and brutalized by war, addiction, abuse, violence, poverty or mental illness; gratitude seems like step 2. Like the thing you do after someone saves your life, or you save your own. Or maybe you say thank you, as a practice, but can’t really feel gratitude until much later. Maybe being grateful is something that happens when we have the ability or capacity to receive grace – when one has experienced a place of being ‘caught’, being held, being supported in some way. It takes a long time and lots of work and an awful lot of support to eventually arrive at gratitude – we sure can’t get there alone.

It’s interesting to me how these two heartfelt perspectives come from the same place yet from different vantage points. Bernie says, “if you are in the gutter I’ll stand by your side until you get out and I’ll protect you and keep you from going there ever again” and Hillary says “here’s a proven way out; trust me. It works.” Either way, hear me roar.

For me, I was born tuned into injustice; and have always been moved by the rallying cries to help those without. I have to work very hard at gratitude, and it took years to arrive here, but I couldn’t have gotten here at all without people fighting for me. Rallying cries so loud and for so long, that I could no longer ignore them. All the loud voices that stood up for me, helped me find my way toward gratitude.

I believe that Hillary, like Bernie, fights for the underdog and for the rights of all those marginalized; but she isn’t connecting with them as much. Perhaps it’s because she’s counting blessings, but missing the fact that many people just can’t see them, yet.

Either way, I was proud of that town hall discussion. Of the questions New Hampshire asked. Of how much we all are listening, showing up, shaking hands, and trying. I’m really moved by Bernie, and stirred to action and belief. I’m a true believer in the merits of giant leaps and revolution. But here this: I’m grateful for them both.

We the people, people.
We of lupine and snowball,
Of black fly and sea,
We of courthouse and island,
Of law and of love,
We of granite and green,
Of privilege and loan
We who believe in service and soul.

In the name of all things Blitzer and Donald,
In the name of everything foxed and fixed,
In the spaces between the Atlantic and Post
In the frenzied cycle of sound bite and sign

On behalf of the cries of Gloria and Guthrie,
On the way to breaking ceilings and streets
Whoever said we can’t be we?
Let each have its due – and
What about you?

Wherever you are,
We are too.

Gilligan is not a snow dog. Why he’s called a Boston Terrier I don’t know – he ought to be a Palo Alto Terrier, or a San Diego Terrier. Any cold and he twirls on three legs in frantic circles looking for that angry wind at his bare ass. On the other hand, too much heat and he dons a mad grin and falls on his side like a fainting goat. The fact is, he likes his porridge just right.

While his sweet spot is 71 degrees, mine is harder to pin down. Maybe it’s a middle child thing, but I often struggle to take a firm and fixed position. I mean, if you can see the advantage of both sides, how can you stand on either?

Of course there are some things that are absolutes – things you are either for or against — like equal pay, canker sores, Trump. But for the most part, life is more complex than that. So for me to choose, to make a decision, I need to think deeply and carefully about the whole –I need to really understand both sides, before I move off the middle and take my place on either side.

But here’s what Gilligan knows that I tend to forget. It’s not just about the brain. You can logically build a case for anything on paper. List all the pros. List all the cons. Study the records. Think for hours and days and months and years. You can even experience up close and personal the way things really are in the world. And still, your instincts can be calling you in a different direction. Your gut tells you the winds of change are blowing; your heart tells you you’ve had enough; your soul calls you to take a leap of faith.

What energizes you, what moves you, what wakes you up should not be ignored! Even in the face of all evidence. Do not dismiss your instincts. They’ll help you find the sweet spot in life; between all that you know to be true, and all that you dream could be.