{"id":8261,"date":"2023-06-02T09:33:30","date_gmt":"2023-06-02T16:33:30","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/?p=8261"},"modified":"2023-06-02T09:33:30","modified_gmt":"2023-06-02T16:33:30","slug":"pat-schneider-instructions-for-the-journey-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/2023\/06\/02\/pat-schneider-instructions-for-the-journey-2\/","title":{"rendered":"Pat Schneider – Instructions for the Journey"},"content":{"rendered":"

Instructions for the Journey
\nby Pat Schneider<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n

The self you leave behind
\nis only a skin you have outgrown.
\nDon\u2019t grieve for it.
\nLook to the wet, raw, unfinished
\nself, the one you are becoming.
\nThe world, too, sheds its skin:
\npoliticians, cataclysms, ordinary days.
\nIt\u2019s easy to lose this tenderly
\nunfolding moment. Look for it
\nas if it were the first green blade
\nafter a long winter. Listen for it
\nas if it were the first clear tone
\nin a place where dawn is heralded by bells.<\/p>\n

And if all that fails,<\/p>\n

wash your own dishes.
\nRinse them.
\nStand in your kitchen at your sink.
\nLet cold water run between your fingers.
\nFeel it.<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/a> \u2014 from Olive Street Transfer<\/a>, by Pat Schneider<\/font><\/p>\n


\/ Image by Alice Popkorn<\/a> \/<\/em><\/font><\/p>\n

The self you leave behind
\nis only a skin you have outgrown.
\nDon\u2019t grieve for it.<\/i><\/p>\n

We are alive, and because we are alive, we change. We imagine we know who we are, that we are a fixed, certain self. But the truth is that we are continuously emerging from the old self into a new, unknown self.<\/p>\n

If we think we are a certain thing, a certain person and that we fully understand that person, then we are not truly seeing ourselves as we are. The only fixed self is the old self, the past self, the self we have already shed. If we think we are that old self, then we feel a sense of loss and bewilderment. We are always working against the flow of life to become who we were yesterday or ten years ago.<\/p>\n

Look to the wet, raw, unfinished
\nself, the one you are becoming.<\/i><\/p>\n

There is something messy and uncertain about who we actually are right now. The self we are does not fit easily into the simple ideas of who we should be. And our evolution continues in this very moment. We are still becoming.<\/p>\n

But that is where the life is. That is where the potential is.<\/p>\n

Let us be kind to ourselves and accept the changing, emerging self. Let us be at ease with our own internal movement. Even at our most still, there is a gentle flow.<\/p>\n

The world, too, sheds its skin\u2026<\/i><\/p>\n

The more we seek a static understanding of the self or the world, the more we miss the magic unfolding before us:<\/p>\n

It\u2019s easy to lose this tenderly
\nunfolding moment.<\/i><\/p>\n

The more we set aside our ideas and expectations and past histories, the more we can simply be, with a sense of openness and wonder, the more we truly encounter the living mystery we are already participants in.<\/p>\n

Look for it
\nas if it were the first green blade
\nafter a long winter.<\/i><\/p>\n

I rather like the pithy, down-to-earth final piece of advice:<\/p>\n

And if all that fails,<\/p>\n

wash your own dishes.
\nRinse them.
\nStand in your kitchen at your sink.
\nLet cold water run between your fingers.
\nFeel it.<\/i><\/p>\n

I\u2019ll let you in on a personal secret: I love to do dishes. That\u2019s one of my household chores. I do dishes by hand several times a day. There is something satisfying about creating cleanliness and order from the moderate mess of daily domestic activity. The mind shifts into a low gear as the hands begin to work their own pattern while water and soap suds run through the fingers. It is a gentle massage for the entire household. It is a meditation made tactile.<\/p>\n

Just doing that with easy attention can bring us back to truths that we miss amidst our grand efforts.<\/p>\n

Have a beautiful weekend!<\/p>\n


\n

<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

<\/a>Recommended Books: Pat Schneider<\/font><\/b><\/p>\n\n

<\/p>\n

\n\n\n
<\/a><\/td>\n<\/a><\/td>\n<\/a><\/td>\n<\/a><\/td>\n<\/a><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n
Another River: New and Selected Poems<\/a><\/small><\/td>\nWriting Alone and with Others<\/a><\/small><\/td>\nOlive Street Transfer<\/a><\/small><\/td>\nHow the Light Gets In: Writing as a Spiritual Practice<\/a><\/small><\/td>\nWake Up Laughing: A Spiritual Autobiography<\/a><\/small><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n
More Books >><\/a><\/i><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/table>\n

<\/center>
\n<\/p>\n\n\n
\n\"Pat<\/a>\n<\/td>\n\nPat Schneider<\/strong><\/a><\/p>\n

US (Contemporary)
\n<\/a><\/a>
\n<\/a><\/a><\/em>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/table>\n

More poetry by Pat Schneider<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Instructions for the Journey by Pat Schneider The self you leave behind is only a skin you have outgrown. Don\u2019t grieve for it. Look to the wet, raw, unfinished self, the one you are becoming. The world, too, sheds its skin: politicians, cataclysms, ordinary days. It\u2019s easy to lose this tenderly unfolding moment. Look for […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[1340,2200,1620,519,2129,658,2523],"class_list":["post-8261","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-poetry","tag-change","tag-dishes","tag-evolution","tag-identity","tag-pat-schneider","tag-self","tag-skin"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8261","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=8261"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8261\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":8262,"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8261\/revisions\/8262"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=8261"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=8261"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=8261"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}