by Kayce Stevens Hughlett

It is a quiet Saturday morning in the middle of abundance and harvest season. My garden overflows with blue hydrangea and bees’ buzz. A hummingbird sips and bathes in the fountain outside my window. Douglas Spotted Eagle drums me into another world where ancestors dance and winged ones lead the way. It is a full, glorious life. I sit in the center of the center of the center and pray the center will hold.

“The center holding” is a notion I’ve been pondering since our last Garden session where three of us gathered and danced in the magic of co-creative poetry. We spoke of grief and loss, aging and abundance, joy and beauty, and so much more. At some point this idea of the center not holding came into our conversation. (It is originally found in a W.B. Yeats poem called “The Second Coming.”)

“Turning and turning in the widening gyre

The falcon cannot hear the falconer;

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold…”

I had to look up ‘gyre’ which much to my delight means spiral or vortex. Yes, I am delighted by spirals, vortexes, and portals. They are invitations into the unknown where anything is possible; and it was into that territory where we three sojourners dropped and co-created what follows.

When the center does not hold

And our philosophies are buried in the glaring light

of the de-colored day,

When joy and beauty turn dark,

What then do we do with our aching hearts?

Into the cave she went…

A thread trailing her simple garment,

Stuck to her bare foot like a leaf

Or an errant piece of toilet paper.

I learned this, this, and this, she said.

Time now to let it go.

After writing and sharing aloud one by one, our small group paused, breathed it in, reflected and asked the invitation for what else we needed to bring forth when the center does not hold. We each pulled a Tarot card, listened, and wrote the answers that we received, then shared them. (No edits - btw).

So used to swimming upward,

Know that you are enough

Even when the spiral is

Coming back down into itself 

Tomorrow will come whether

You are here to see it or not

And someone else will take

On the mantle of remembering

As the circle reforms again

And again

And again

And this my dears is the circle of life

And death

And life once more.

Always we begin again.

Always.

Like sure-footed goat,

We walk, step, leap, lie down,

And wait.

You’ve simply forgotten that you are

The Magician.

One, Unity, Bridge,

Aligning heaven and earth.

Sit.

Breathe.

Remember

--Kanzi (Kayce, Jana, Lezli)

Sit. Breathe. Remember. Three women. Three voices. Three cards (all Ones by the way – Ace of Water, Ace of Air, Magician. You can see them in the photo for this post). This is our prayer for the Garden of Old Bones, for ourselves, for our world. This is our recipe for when the center does not hold. Namaste. Aho. Amen.

We’d love to hear your own thoughts and reflections. There’s also an outline for the session here, so you can write your own poem. This session was not recorded.