I just returned from two weeks in Europe, having led a retreat in the Swiss Alps and two workshops focusing on the integration of spiritual practice and psychotherapy. I met wonderful people and we worked together in deep and meaningful ways. There were challenges, nourishment, silence, care, and real love along the way. On my arrival home, I found that the poet Galway Kinnell had died (February 1, 1927 — October 28, 2014). A student sent me his poem Wait which you can read here. It reflected things that opened during my time in Europe and it stands alone as a tribute to this great poet.

—Galway Kinnell

Wait, for now.
Distrust everything, if you have to.
But trust the hours. Haven't they
carried you everywhere, up to now?
Personal events will become interesting again.
Hair will become interesting.
Pain will become interesting.
Buds that open out of season will become lovely again.
Second-hand gloves will become lovely again,
their memories are what give them
the need for other hands. And the desolation
of lovers is the same: that enormous emptiness
carved out of such tiny beings as we are
asks to be filled; the need
for the new love is faithfulness to the old.

Don't go too early.
You're tired. But everyone's tired.
But no one is tired enough.
Only wait a while and listen.
Music of hair,
Music of pain,
music of looms weaving all our loves again.
Be there to hear it, it will be the only time,
most of all to hear,
the flute of your whole existence,
rehearsed by the sorrows, play itself into total exhaustion.

Inquiry recording: