Poem of the Month

Posted June 18, 2021 by Liza Hyatt
Categories: Uncategorized

cicadas

Song of the Cicada

 

                                    What will you do,

                                    you, who have endured

                                    month after month,

                                    year after underworld year,

                                    in a dark silent place

 

                                    and now wake to a strange new strength

                                    and the desire to unbury yourself

                                    with which you squirm free

                                    and emerge

 

                                    into a world

                                    of sun and thunder,

                                    catalpa flowers and bees,

                                    birth upon voice upon song?

 

                                    Join us,

                                    the other ecstatic souls

                                    who are already here celebrating.

 

                                    Grow gold wings,

                                    devote the rest of your life to love-making,

                                    and raise an irresistible ruckus.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Poem of the Week 3-7-21

Posted March 7, 2021 by Liza Hyatt
Categories: Uncategorized

Poet God

God is a poet of few words,
singing, over and over
in meditation:

And, yes! let us be…  

And, yes! let us be…  

And, yes! let us be…  




Tending Dreams through Art Making

Posted February 10, 2021 by Liza Hyatt
Categories: art therapy, dreams

Here is a link to an article I wrote for the Natural Dreamwork blog and newsletter. Much healing can come from exploring our dreams and the images saturated with emotions which they bring us nightly. 

Tending Dreams through Art Making: Part Two, Perceptual and Affective Pathways

Art

Poem of the Week – January 24, 2021

Posted January 24, 2021 by Liza Hyatt
Categories: Poetry

 

In the wake of battles and inauguration at the Capital, as I looked through poems written in the past 4 years, this one spoke to me and my hope for all our healing:

Where to Begin

Yes, there is too much hate.
Near, far, so many people
fighting each other.
 
And in my heart?
 
Not just a seed, 
a full-grown weed
camouflaged 
within a righteous garden
of white flowers,
fiery flowers,
conviction, 
feels-so-good zeal,
unquestioned.
 
The inner root grows deepest,
is hardest to see,
and is unbearably painful to pull
 
with my own loving hands 
from my own frightened chest.
 

Poem of the Week – January 17

Posted January 16, 2021 by Liza Hyatt
Categories: Poetry

After a few weeks break during the holidays, 
here is a new offering.
This one was created through 
a "found poetry" technique
of cutting random words from magazines
and arranging them until they surprised me.
I often turn to this technique 
when I am troubledor grieving. 
I am always surprised how the poem
responds in a healing voice.
Carry On, Says a Voice in the Dark

Carry on,
says a voice in the dark,
if possible, all the way
to the forgotten measure
of limestone tears,
cave pearls.
 
Sometimes I hear children playing
or the call to prayer, sometimes, 
the forest coming back.
 
It is hard to imagine
how much hope, regret,
fear, hatred, hunger, 
pain and dying 
are experienced 
in this place.
 
Making the story
even more interesting:
we don’t want it to end.

Poem of the Week – December 20

Posted December 22, 2020 by Liza Hyatt
Categories: Poetry

For the week of Winter Solstice and Christmas, 
here is a morning's walking meditation 
from a few years past:

Christmas Morning
 
As if sensing this is a day for gifts,
the dog insists we walk
a way we never go,
discovering a scent hidden under
new snow dusting the sidewalk,
glittering like the path of a star,
which she tracks with her nose.
 
The tipped half-moon
is a silver ladle
pouring out sunrise
the color of honey and cider,
Wassail brewed in the sky,
departing winter storm
afire with dawn.

Poem of the Week – December 13

Posted December 13, 2020 by Liza Hyatt
Categories: Uncategorized

As we head toward Christmas, this poem spoke to me,
I wrote it after winter's meditation during my workday commute. 

Commute Home
 
The audiobook is talking about 
the disappointment of the early Christians,
waiting and waiting for the transformation
they believed would happen 
in their lifetime,
until they grew to find
eternity and salvation
inside the waiting,
as waiting changed them,
teaching them 
to love each other.
 
A livestock semi-trailer
is slowly passing me.
Pushed into each oval air-hole,
black and white fur of cows
packed in for a long journey.
From one of these holes,
a single, velvet cow ear,
flapping in the winter air.
 
I long to reach out
and touch its softness;
I feel sudden tenderness
for these animals
and their life of sacrifice.
 
I arrive home
less disappointed in marriage,
practicing the faith born
from knowing we
failed and fail and will fail
yet continue to chose
a forgiving-love, 
with which we redeem 
each other.
 

Poem of the Week – Dec. 6, 2020

Posted December 6, 2020 by Liza Hyatt
Categories: Poetry

Tags:
This week's poem is offered as
a gift for short winter days,
and the body's longing to hibernate.
May it brings you a bit of loving-kindness,
and encouragement to slow down.

While Meditating

Today, no great awakening.
I napped,
the cranky child,
the weary woman,
on a crowded flight,
my head nodding accidentally
onto your shoulder,
Beloved.
 
You let it stay there.
You let me rest. 

Poem of the Week

Posted November 29, 2020 by Liza Hyatt
Categories: Uncategorized

To encourage, enliven, and inspire 
your journey as seeker, 
I am now offering  
a "Poem of the Week", 
sharing one of my own poems.
Here is the first offering.

Prayer for Choosing to Soften
 
At best, we will need therapy 
and meditation practice
for the rest of our lives,
and some of us will soften 
and begin to heal,
and some of us will keep resisting,
afraid to be other than
alone behind walls.
 
And the world goes on
as it always has 
and always will,
warring more
wherever we resist,
and warring less
wherever we soften.
 
Sometimes we feel like fools.
We could be getting drunk
and screwing around
in opulent, burning fortresses,
instead of humbly sitting here,
becoming naked.
 
But the love we seek
needs us to live in the wound
like maggots cleansing 
an open sore of infection,
like bees finding pollen 
to make honey,
like mystics waking in the heart 
of the cosmic rose,
realizing what we called self
was a simple portal,
a crudely carpentered door,
we are quietly passing through,
beyond which
compassion is
forever opening.
 
 
 
 


Autumn Eco-Spirituality and Art Mid-Day Retreat

Posted September 7, 2020 by Liza Hyatt
Categories: art therapy, eco-spirituality

Living Your Questions through Art, Writing, and Bulb Planting Meditations

September 26, 2020

1pm -4pm (eastern time) via Zoom

hosted by Liza Hyatt, art therapist, poet, and spiritual director

RSVP: lizahyatt@gmail.com

free, no cost to attend

supplies needed: black paper, gel pens, your favorite art materials, journal, 6-12 bulbs, gardening tools

 

As part of a virtual community, we will honor the natural wisdom of autumn, with its invitation to let go and entrust our longing to incubating dark. We will engage in expressive arts and nature meditations, expressing our hopes and fears during this time of complex personal, cultural, and environmental change and transition.  We will write and make art to express the questions we cannot answer and must grow into. We will plant spring blooming bulbs along with these questions in fertile dark earth and celebrate the blessings of deeply living the questions we carry in our hearts and souls.

Autumn Eco-Spiritual Retreat- flyer2

 

On torn paper, I write the questions I must live.

Wrap them around daffodil, tulip, crocus bulbs.

Plant them in the dark….

Each year’s questions, rewordings of one question,

perennial, persistent, mistaken as failure…

That question buried deep in each life…

And growth – the only answer.

(from “Planting Bulbs:  A Ritual” in Under My Skin, Liza Hyatt, Wordtech Editions, 2012)