I recently posted my poem in response to Jonas Ellison’s column — but would like to share it with you here, in case you didn’t see it.
PATHS GO IN BOTH DIRECTIONS
©1914 Judy Ann Giorchino
Slipping silently out through high fever’s door
To rejoin the stardust,
Then brought snapping back through the doctor’s hypodermic,
The child learned early on she was not solid or stable
In her being, but fluid, and
Granted a freedom forever from the fear
That seeks power and control.
Later, the shaman’s medicine took her the other way,
Flying inward into space, and
It was good to know the way back.
Some travel and never return,
Gazing too long into moving water.
Concentration can be a shut door,
Opposite to the State of Flow, but
Practice is essential, to
Do whatever you do so easily
You forget you and your art are separate.