Healing
Mercy
Click for meditationRegarding "Mercy"
To me, the most important
Thing about being
At the beach is
That when I walk to
The water’s edge, I
Feel I am in the undoubted
Presence of Creation.
This is what I feel
In my heart,
And so, therefore,
I have the urge to touch
The waves and to be
Touched by them…
I always get down onto
One knee, usually
In shallow water,
And scoop my
Hands into the
Surf and then throw
It onto my face — over and
Over — as if I cannot
Get enough of the
Salt water. It is
An absolute blessing, and I
Have the sensation that
I am touching the
Hem of God.
There is nothing
In my life at that moment
That cannot be
Healed or helped.
I am at the original
Baptismal font, and I
Am at the Mouth and Mother
Of the River Jordan.
Leo Carroll
May 7, 2018
Down I reach
On one wet knee,
Hoping for the right wave
My cupped hands to
Greet. O, how I
Love this cold surf, this
Fresh compress to
My face, this
Blessed touch by
Something Greater,
My thirst to
Gratefully slake!
“Boom!” each
Wave about me crashes,
My hands held to
Their salty lips, as each
One of them
Approaches…and
On beach stones in foam
Kisses.
Evening Snowflakes
Click for meditationRegarding "Evening Snowflakes"
At the most unexpected
Times, Creation speaks to us,
And usually this occurs in
Simple ways, so simple and
Routine that these
Communications can
Be overlooked. These gifts
Are meant to be a form
Of sustenance to us, to
Rejuvenate us, to be an
Ameliorating antidote to
The human condition.
And so, whether in the
Form of a flower’s face
Such as the snapdragon, a
Seagull’s call, the sound of a
Rising tide, the dance
Of a monarch butterfly,
The chirp of a late
Summer’s cricket, the
Warmth of the sun on
A south-facing, Maine
Wooded slope, the slow
Pace of a ladybug’s crawl, the
Glint of September’s
Fading light, the rush of
Winter’s wind through the
Tops of trees, a raven croaking
And circling far above, a
Flock of Canadian geese
Beating their wings into a
Stormy night, an autumn maple
Leaf floating on Walden
Pond, and, yes, even
The imperceptible weight
Of dainty snowflakes
On the jacket of a coat like
Mine, as I shut my car
Door and pull up my collar,
Reminding me I was absolutely
Not alone along a
Darkened path leading
Somewhere under no moon.
Leo Carroll
March 11, 2019
Down they come,
Big, soft, silent ones, as if their
Whole life they had
Been slowly falling, and
Finally up’n my shoulders
Land as lightly as if
They had no weight —
Except, that is, for their
Yoke of grace…
The sky against
Which they float has a hint
Of grey, black, and
Some blue, and the sheer
Quiet of their descent
Is staggering, as if they
Were at the end of
Silk puppet strings, and
Made of the curliest,
Winter wool.
Running on Wings
(Finding Grace at "Station Ten" in Boot Camp)
Click for meditationRegarding "Running on Wings"
Some years ago, I
Injured my right leg and ankle.
I had always been athletic, and loved
Playing sports, so when I
Lost the ability to
Run, fully run, it was a
Big loss to me. I missed the
Freedom to exert myself at a very
High level, and I realized I
Had to change my approach, or
My health would deteriorate. And
So I started to concentrate on
What I could do rather
Than what I couldn’t do,
And I discovered I could
Compensate for my lack of
Mobility in other ways.
I added swimming to
My exercise regimen, then
Weight training, stationary bike
Riding, and many other things.
I eventually began to take
Physical fitness classes.
This lead to one class called,
“Boot Camp,” in which
I was subjected to
A wide set of activities,
One being to run between
Two fluorescent-orange, floor cones.
When I first attempted this,
It was very difficult,
Because I ran with a limp. But
I kept trying, and my limp
Became less, and I finally reached the
Point of being able to slowly jog –
And I felt like my feet
Had wings, eagle’s wings, and
It was as if my body was
Lifted off the litter to soar…
Leo Carroll
November 7, 2018
I find myself running on feet
As if they were surely eagle-winged,
When I once thought I would
Ne’er run again, until, that is, my
Healing would come when I walked
Those tall, sweet grasses in the
Fair meadows of Elysium…
But here I am now, my gait
Restored to where I can at least
Meekly jog, and so I race back and
Forth between two fluorescent cones, as
If my feet were finally loosed of the earthen
Cords which kept them bound…
Climbing Meg’s Mountain
Click for meditationRegarding "Climbing Meg’s Mountain"
This poem was written
Less than 12 months after I had joined
A new health club in the town where I lived, and
It also coincided with a period in my life
When I was in need of rejuvenation. I found myself
Taking part in my first-ever, spinning ‘Pedal to End Cancer’
Fundraiser. The lead instructor for the three hour
Ride was a whirling dervish, who took us on
A very intensive, cardio-demanding,
Simulated mountain climb, all to the
Pulsating sounds and cadence of great music. For
One straight hour she pounded us with
An endless barrage of merciless
Spinning commands and exhortations,
Which appeared to have no end to them…
She seemed oblivious to any and all
Difficulties we had keeping up with her!
It was our job to do what we had
To do! As part of completing that
Strenuous, wild ride, I was also
Reminded of the tremendous challenges
Occurring in the lives of other people,
Particularly with respect to cancer. And so
Today, right now, I look back with so
Much gratitude to that first ‘Pedal to End
Cancer’ experience, and I thank that
Spinning instructor for helping to lift me up
Out of myself, and for enabling me to
See that if cancer survivors could endure
Years, even decades, of debilitating
Treatment just to live one more day, then
I could do a mere three hour ride, and I could
Express gratitude for what I had received
As blessings in my life.
Leo Carroll
March 5, 2019
“Pump it!…, Push it!…”
“Keep back in your saddle!…”
“Keep your peddle strokes
Even and smooth!…”
“We’re going to do ‘jumps’
To the count of two – – up!…, up!…, up!…”
“We have a double chorus!!!…”
“Slide!…, Slide!…, Slide!…”
“Down to hand position three!…”
“Keep your elbows loose and relaxed,
And tucked into your body!…”
“Back in lohhhhwww!!!…”
“Keep working, keep working!…,
Watch your cadence!…”
.
.
.
…And thus on and on and without mercy, her
Commands continue and cascade and escalate, one upon the other,
Relentless, unyielding, pounding, driving me into the ground, and I know on this
Sunday morning that any mountain, this mountain, can be climbed
With the exhortation and aid of this endless
Fusillade from a ponytailed woman in the female form of an
Absolutely whirling tornado, and all I have
To do is “pump it”, and any doubt and despair can
Be conquered by my spinning flywheel, and cancer can
Inexorably be crushed and tossed into the fathomless dustbin
With its twin gargoyles of terror and fear.
The Notebook
Click for meditationRegarding "The Notebook"
The most important thing I do
Every day is to write.
It is my life. It is my balm.
It is peaceful. It is
The one dependable
Action I take which is sure
Any raging waters
To calm. It is a gift to me.
Unmerited. It casts
A fence around me as
If I was reclined in the sweet
Sheepfold of Psalm 23.
It could even be
Viewed as my version
Of the Kingdom of Heaven,
That blessed seed
Bestowed within each of us,
Which has the
Potential to leaven into
A majestic, flowering tree.
Leo Carroll
October 2, 2018
Would this notebook
Be able to keep me afloat in
A raging sea, its paper,
Once wood, a life
Preserver’s giving me
Buoyancy, or,
Would last sight of
Me be with an arm
Raised high, notebook
Held up to the last,
And then down,
Down deep, gone,
Below the waves and
Into the vast…?