Well, Poem #2 has arrived. I’m happy and am celebrating it’s birth.

What Is That Above The Sink There?

I hear her screams.
Our kitchen quiet now, still early.
See there an old black and white
Photo of Rebecca’s mother
Mary and Martha her twin.

Some of the construction dates back
To the thirties
When maybe a guy named Wilson
Tried to grow currants here.

There those three skulls:
Coyote, beaver and raccoon,
Evidence of lives lived
Out in the elements.
Our kitchen, a place to get in
Out of the rain.

The fire in the wood stove quietly
Goes about it’s business,
Warmth it’s only thought.
It dries my hat and jacket
And the corn from the harvest
In September.

The table made from sturdy oak
Stained with the history
Of our forty years together.
I hear screams again, so close.

Ah, she finally gives birth
Here long ago in this very room,
Her first born. I see him
Occasionally out and around town.
His birthplace just about
Where this table is here.

What is that above the sink there?
An ancient stone spear point?
One of our fine ancestors used that
To get his people dinner. The blood
Red long washed away now.

Invite him in, that hairy man.
Let him dry off by the fire.
He will love all that corn in the rack.
And he will recognize her screams.

What is that a sign of
When time runs together so?
No before, now and later
But all present together.

Phil Volker 1/10/19

It is actually quite close to “Gone Fishing” at least in my experience. But today I thought I would just be mostly absent because poetry is starting to leak out and it would be good to gather it up and see what we have.

Catherine put some interesting things on comments: Yeats once said that, “rhetoric is the argument you have with others, poetry the argument you have with yourself.” “Because f you weren’t arguing with yourself, figuring something out for yourself or working through some issue that’s pressing itself upon your life – you could probably rest quite happy in silence. But because there is a fertile dilemma, a rich imbalance somewhere in your life, or heart, or understanding, you write a poem.” (Bill Moyers)

Yea, something like that maybe. So off I go to the Poetry Jungle to explore and map.

Absent today, gone poeting loves, Felipé.

I’ve been wrestling with this poetry thing for weeks now. Trying to get the right connections made on my mind’s switchboard it seems. My perception of poetry has changed rapidly. Once I thought that it was a physical thing as groups of words on the paper. Then I thought that it was a language which was appropriate for the occasion. But now at this moment where I am I see it as a space or an environment or a world. The phrase came up the other day “poetry jungle”. There is something to that for me.

Steve our Northwest Bureau Chief sent this in the comments:
“But, yeah, things come and go and come around again and oftentimes the points of that yearly compass seem to be surprise, appear as a reminder we forgot to expect. But it’s a Hope thing, right? How does it meld and mesh with poetry? The comes-and-goes-and-comes-back-again part, for certain. But also the “Wait. Just Stop and know what point of the yearly compass you are on, what things look like from right here, right now. It’s slightly different that the last time you checked. Be aware of where you are, big picture, in the scheme of things.” part, too.
Just stop. Though it feels like time to ramp up in some ways, in planning and in doing – and maybe it is. So, all the more need to Just Stop before plunging ahead. And where, exactly to light when I stop, in my universe of sometimes-practiced habits and behaviors? In poetry. To both alight and delight in poetry. It’s there to discover and to write. There to give aid and guidance to the Just Stop event. It is timeless as it glides through our minds, finding its place and meaning in some niche we have waiting for it. Allowing the greater-than-us light of awareness settle in with the rest of who we are. Delightful, huh?”

On we go loves, Felipé.

Friday of this week Annie and I are going to do a radio interview and I was asked for a bio. I have spent so much time on it this AM that I thought I would just post it here for you. Just in case you didn’t know the story yet.

The Bio Of Phil Volker

My last eight years have been dominated by my cancer diagnosis, my conversion to Catholicism and my walking the pilgrimage trail the Camino de Santiago in Spain. Of course none of this would have been possible without the love and support of my wife Rebecca and our family. Nor would it have been possible without the continuing care and treatment given me at Swedish Cancer Institute, Seattle through doctors Philip Gold and David Zucker. Nor would have been possible without the continuing support of Teleios Bible Study, my parish and the Archdiocese of Seattle.

As part of my Cancer Rehabilitation I developed a trail here on our property to be an exercise program. Walking and being in the outdoors appealed to me as I was already out praying my rosary daily in the weather. At some point in all this I had seen Martin Sheen’s The Way and was taken with the idea of it, this pilgrimage thing. The idea that I could somehow do a pilgrimage right here where I was, in the condition that I was in, gelled for me. It could be said that it was a fantasy, a myth but whatever it was it proved incredibly helpful and vital for my overall health and well being. It was part medical, part athletic, part historical, part religious, part spiritual and I would learn that it would connect me to a whole new world.

In the winter of 2014 we saw Walking the Camino the feature length documentary where we were introduced to Annie O’Neil my future cohort. Rebecca and Annie started communicating through FaceBook and Annie came to visit us and walk Phil’s Camino in March of that same year.

At this time I was very weak from rounds of chemotherapy and was tentatively walking my camino never expecting to go to Spain to do the real thing. Remarkably Annie was at this time working on her book The Everyday Camino With Annie in which she was giving readers a glimpse of the magic of walking the Camino from wherever they might be physically. So artistically we were working on some of the same ideas. And that was the magic that occurred between us and the genesis of my documentary, Phil’s Camino.

So through a series of small miracles the film got started and my pilgrimage to Spain looked like it would happen “for real”. It was a marvelous time and it taught us a lot about each other and about ourselves. With much help from numerous sources the film progressed and came to be, premiering in the spring of 2015. And now the years have started to pass and the film has gathered momentum. It is a joy to be associated with it as it continues to educate and inspire. Sometimes just being us becomes noteworthy.

Phil Volker 1/8/19

The barometer is rising and some blue sky is around. I had charging trouble with my IPad this morning so it may just be a shortie post today. Yes and walking in a few minutes.

I am working on my poetry and that is a blessing. It comes when it comes and it is dormant when it wants to be. And since we are new friends we are being patient with each other. We don’t always see eye to eye but I am hopeful we will work out the rough spots.

The Christmas tree is being dismantled. Time to lurch into the next phase of winter. Time to cut firewood. Time to order seeds. Time to contend with taxes. And at the end of that will be the Spring payoff of warmth and light.

Off to walk loves, Felipé.

Big wind storm here over night. Trees down, power lines down, a mess. And the morning sky looked so innocent it was ridiculous. Father David celebrated Mass with his head lamp on to supplement the candles. That’s the look of the Island in the winter.

Well, we have had a few good licks of poetry on the blog lately, the start of a new year, a good year. Somehow we have gone beyond the idea that we are buoying each other up, like the old days. Nothing wrong with that for sure but now occasionally something else is happening. Occasionally one of us is clearing the surface of the sea like a flying fish and we are catching a glimpse of a sunset or a rainbow or some other such glorious thing. This is 2019!

Sunday loves, Felipé.

Monday 0900-1000
Tuesday 1530-1630
Thursday 0900-1000
Sunday 1530-1630

It’s January and only the hardy show up to Camino. That’s possibly true. Anyway, we will be here for you.

Felipé.x

It was in a comment on the Armorer poem. And I think that it is a poem about Felipé surprisingly enough. See what you think?

The Quiet Man
The soft-spoken one.
Look into the friendly eyes.
Here the welcome of his voice.
And the laughter, springing up so easily.
Eat and drink happily and heartily at his table.
Revel in the pleasantness of his talk and his thoughts.
Accept all that he’ll gladly give you,
Because he would give you all that he has.
But belittle him not for his indulgences to us,
And mistake not the strength of his purpose
As some kind of weakness.
There is steel there annealed by years of honest work
Hard work.
And when summoned
That steel forged with the unquenchable fires of Faith and Love,
Will fight the good fight
As long as it takes.
Behold
The Quiet Man

John Conway, Caminoheads Heartland Bureau Chief.

I’m deeply honored and proud to have Pilgrim Farmer John in our circle of friendship. It is going to be a good year with all of us intangled so.

Working on a poem loves, Felipé.

Dana sends in a part of a poem from David Whyte for you. Isn’t this a great thing to do in the dead of winter.

Poetry~R-us loves, Felipé.

My opening poem Show Me The Armorer has gotten good reception. Thank you. It was a interesting and terrifying experience producing it, a childbirth it was. We will see what is next for the poetry. Ideas are floating by.

At the hospital today to get a treatment. Art, a friend from Teleios, the Bible Study guys, was here to keep me company. People come while I am tethered here. All part of the salon that is Phil’s Camino.

I have decided to just let the poems happen as they happen and not be on any schedule or it be part of a discipline. I wish I could write one a day or once a week but that seems forced.
Maybe we could post other people’s poems if they are inspirational and fit in.

Out of steam for now. Thanks for stopping by. Love, Felipé.