Category Archives: healing

Dad’s Birthday

Today was my Dad’s birthday. Happy Birthday, Dad! No one alive knows any more the truth or myth of the family story that his mom tried to hold off his delivery until after April Fools Day, 1925. But babies come when they are ready and even a very stubborn German lady might not be able to pull that off!

He died in 1985, (when my son was just shy of one year old). He was 60, the age I am very aware of approaching. And very aware of how young that was, how much I have left I want to do. In 2009 I posted some poems for his birthday. Here are a few more.

10/5/08

Watermelon Reminds Me of Michigan

My strapping Dad buying
a couple big, unsplit,

possibly ripe, whole ones
for the extended family reunions.

Chill and wrap in layers of newspaper
to keep cool in summer heat.

Slippery wet black seeds
could be pinched between thumb

and forefinger,
shooting some distance

into park crabgrass
or spit, with juice

running down the chin,
face a satisfied grin.

Yes, that watermelon,
sometimes salted half-moon slices

or quarters for the youngest
(don’t eat below the pink part!)

treats in the hot season,
limited availability then.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2008

7/18/10

Sitting With It

My uncle died last week,
my Dad’s only brother,

I was not that close to him
so the intensity of my grieving

ambushed me.
But he represented my father,

gone these 25 years,
and he represented my past, my childhood,

my tribe, my clan (all that expectation).
All the memories wrapped up in one man.

He represented all the aunts and uncles beginning to pass on
and my mother, waiting in line.

I am from Michigan people who gathered
and stayed together, supported each other.

And I left them to find myself—
the gain in that decision

greater than the loss, but there was loss nevertheless,
any connection to them from a distance.

Any relationship of my children to them,
more fragile and tenuous.

(My children did not grow up with
extended family at every important occasion.)

And now that my Dad’s brother is gone…
no more chances for understanding.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2010

My father was a complex man and we had our troubles growing up, but I am grateful for many things, the lessons I continue to learn from him. This poem was written as part of body-mind-emotion-spirit energy healing work I did with Tricia Eldridge (founder of Energy Touch School for Advanced Healing in Michigan) to deal with recurring abdominal weakness and other persistent health issues.

12/1/09

Old Wounds Healed

My Dad came this time,
invited to participate,

to undo what had been done,
to take back what had been said,

lodged in my gut but rightfully
belonged to him.

She said he struggled with it,
but kept on until the dark mass,

that chain and ball or anchor?
who knows, not mine,

but his, and now returned to him,
leaving me lighter, healing.

He died 24 years ago,
I have worked hard

over and over to heal and forgive.
Last week he showed up

clearer than ever—in a good way—
sitting at our old Formica kitchen table,

cutting giblets and celery for stuffing
the Thanksgiving turkey.

Was that his ethereal gold form
standing last night in my room?

Did he choose to come help
or did I call him…or both…or neither?

Just the right timing,
you know how this works:

what is ready to be healed
come up to the surface.

However painful, allowing the feeling
releases the hold.

Still true,
still true.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2009

IWWG at BROWN, part 2

Spent the week recovering from the flu. Came on suddenly right after I did my last post. I trust all is well with you. Here are more poems I wrote at the IWWG Remember the Magic writing conference at Brown and a few photos. Includes two more from my self-guided project on doors poems and photographs. Providence is a lovely place. Inspirational.

Let me ask you. What is the purpose of poetry? Do any of these poems or pictures evoke a feeling or memory for you? Are there any doors in your life that are closing or opening? Let me know below.

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8/4/10

Home Body

Some choose looks
over feeling,
unaware or ingrained,

mind over body,
emotion over body,
anything over body.

Body, the second class citizen,
mundane matter subject
to vagaries and whim.

Body that speaks one language
to get attention:
discomfort escalating to pain.

What is this disconnect
from home?
Why are feet not planted

firmly on the ground?
Pulled, lulled ever outward
attention paid to everything but….

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2010

8/4/10

Dramatic Reading

The words dictate
how to be spoken
to go out and sink in.

More than that emphasis
is drama, pleasing to the actor,
overlaying the meaning,

attention now on the reading.
What remains after
in the retina of memory

is not the words, but acting.
Do the audience a kindness
to remember them.

Deliver the lines,
no more, no less,
that is enough.

I acknowledge
different styles and cultures
different training and shaping influence,

not all of them resonant with me.
And so I listen, open,
and get what I can.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2010

8/4/10

Anything

What do I have to give up
to do what I suspect is expected,
to get my money’s worth?

I could head back
to class, to the grid, the schedule,
but this day stretches out

before me, hot and sweet.
Once set in motion
I want to follow where it goes

and where the energy flows,
I flow too.
Anything can happen.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2010

8/4/10

Doors (2)

Doors open, closed, locked, hidden,
the center of attention,

carved, worn, splintered, cared for,
spectacular, plain, old, new, fresh-painted,

peeling, wood, glass, all hard protection
against what might come.

Down steps, up steps, even with the street,
all colors or none, reflective, shiny or matte.

Inviting, inhibiting, used for everyday,
only for show, friendly, forbidding, functional,

what is behind, what stories told or unfolding
what crime, what passion, what apathy,

none of it in relation to me
except as the threads play out

and I am ensnared in a sticky web
not entirely of my own devising.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2010

8/4/10

Doors (3)

Back doors, front doors, side doors,
creaky doors, easy-slide patio doors,
temperamental doors depending on the weather.

From inside looking out
from out, looking in
perspective is everything.

Certain door types found in certain areas of town,
but the most worn so far, with the hole
in the bare wood splintered step

is one short block from the college dorm
and the chichi, multicolor-trimmed,
ornate pillared-porch door.

Doors with transoms, doors with fanlights,
double doors, single doors, slim or wide,
doors with chains, doors with brass handle locks,

doors with deadbolts, doors with beveled windows,
doors with gates, doors with peepholes,
gates with latches, wrought iron elaborate

or parallel bare bars like a fence,
multi-panel doors, or flat veneer or select fine wood,
revolving doors, automatic doors, doors to push or pull.

Doors that stay open, doors that swing shut
doors that slam every time, screen doors,
doors with jalousie window slats and aluminum frames.

bathroom doors, kitchen doors, bedroom doors,
doors where the top separates from the bottom.
In fifty-eight years, how many doors have I walked through:

school doors, library doors, store doors, church doors, restaurant doors,
house doors, rest stop doors, apartment doors, car doors,
public doors, private doors, doors to keep out or let in,

revealing or concealing everything.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2010


8/4/10

Empty Being Filled

Going down a path
willing to be directed

willing to take what comes
to make decisions

to avoid the valleys
by listening

I tell you
a thought is powerful

I am filled
with manifesting

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2010

IWWG at BROWN, part 1

One of the good things for me last year was attending my second International Women’s Writing Guild Conference, held in 2010 at Brown University in Providence, RI. I was still recovering my resilience and stamina, but I was determined to go. I had new writer friends to see again and I gave myself permission to do whatever I wanted. I had never been in Rhode Island, I could be a new me. Each day I had inner guidance about an “assignment”: someone to talk with, or something write about. I gave my first reading at one of the nighttime open readings. I met new women. I sold my books and CD at the book fairs at the beginning and the end. I worked on a poem/photo project about doors, inspired by one sentence a teacher said at the opening. I took care of myself. And every day I followed the energy. It might mean doing an energy healing for someone I met at lunch or it might mean taking pictures or sitting in reflection on the quads. Here is about the first third of the writing from that lovely week with a few photographs.

7/31/10

Grounding in Earth and Sky

For Diane and me

How much trouble
you can get in
not listening to your own wisdom

giving away power
to make decisions
then saying…later…

I knew all along.
See now how strong you are,
no longer a beginner.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2010

7/31/10

For Hannelore

Reflection,
introspection,

change in direction,
some follow, some lead,

some drop out and circle back,
some stay away forever and sulk,

some are drawn in who never were,
change is a requirement for living.

Adaptation with the blowing wind,
continual evolution,

so it is for all living things
including people and organizations,

the desire to exist, to keep on.
Nourish the whole

and the courageous ones
will risk it all following the larger vision.

What is important is not each tiny detail,
but the rich and nurturing conversation.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2010

7/31/10

After the wise women
must come the young ones
who care, who bear the

accumulated lessons
with learning of their own
in context of their times.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2010

7/31/10

Adventure After Waterfire

Lost
but not lost,

knew where we were
but not how to get

where we were going
back to temporary home.

Stopped for directions at a waterside bar
on the wrong side of the river

and from two characters in the parking lot:
a right, 5 lefts, over the red bridge

and down Angell Street,
which improbably turned out to be right.

Disorienting dark
with inconstant moon as talisman!

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2010

8/1/10

Healing Lunch
After Sue

There is the linear way of things
and there is the other,
order inherent in apparent chaos

where what comes together
has invisible purpose,
and what comes to us

leads back to wholeness.
There is no separation,
energy is energy whatever the spectrum.

To allow this process to happen,
to graciously let go
the smoke, the veil, the illusion,

to be content and at ease
in this insistent skin.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2010

8/1/10

Starving for Solitude

The nothing
in which to shape
something

of my own invention
is missing
all space filled

all days overflowing
even into night
More than one

chance to choose…
otherwise.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2010

8/1/10

Choosing a Teacher

Be careful who you select
as teacher, not to swallow
everything you hear,
paying attention to your truth-sense.

Be aware of how you feel—
discomfort tells you something
not good/not bad
necessarily, but check in:

Who resonates, who is kind in assisting,
strengthening the emerging voice,
not stamping on tender shoots
barely emerged from germination.

Who would never douse the heart-fire
and disperse your dream
back to the swirling primordial mists
it trustingly came from.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2010

8/3/10

Doors (1)

What is behind Door #1
unknown

What is behind Door 2 and 3
however elegant or shabby?

And all the rest: 14, 22, 637…?
Step through

close off or circle back
and see what happens

who do I want to be
and want with me?

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2010

8/3/10

To Protect My Luminosity

and not feel guilty

to be drawn to or away from
listen and let it be

What I am here for
who I am I see:

to gaze at the stars
to stand in the sun

no more, no less
to speak and sing and be silent

to flow as colored silk on the wind
to be truth as I know it

to catch, to throw, to be kind
to lead, to follow, to be still.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2010

8/3/10

To Be

An experiment
yet untried,

quite funny really,
to be myself fully for a week

day in day out, moment to moment,
to listen and act from

inner wisdom,
to pay attention aligned

and balanced, in harmony.
To act as if I am healed

and realize it
is true…

extensive laughing is involved
and weightlessness.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2010

8/3/10

Yes, I Noticed You Being You

What can I say of friend Amy
who spoke tonight so well and courageously,

who opened arms wide, glad to see me
before I even stepped through the door.

And who generously watches out for me
and graciously accepts me.

How fine a friend is that!

Amy, who paints her sad tale so vividly
parts of it are funny,

disconcerting when she feels more the tragedy,
but she pulls us into the humanness of the story

and humor allows us to keep looking,
to keep listening to what was imaginably unbearable.

A skilled weaver, illusionist, wordsmith,
she makes me care…what happens next.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2010

8/4/10

IWWG Conference

In coming together
opportunity
to see the places
both healed and raw still

To be who we are
built on what we have chosen
to be better than
wild and playful imagination

Whoever, up to now,
you have been
or considered being
come here…and choose

and choose again.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2010

Mini-Review of 2010, Part 1

I remember 2010 as a very difficult year. And in many ways, that is true. But when viewed from a bit of distance, it was mixed, really, with low and high points. I don’t want to spend too much time there, but I do want to wrap it up as a way of going forward. First: the challenges. Last: the delights.

Today’s topic: A Major Challenge.

In February, 2010, after many months of body-mind-spirit energy healing work, I had my third surgery for an abdominal hernia, repairing damage partly due to previous surgeries. There were unexpected post-surgery complications, pain, and a long recovery. Not much writing. For a while I was physically unable to write and mentally foggy. I also did not want to remember the details, which caused flashbacks. Here are two short poems and photos from that time.

2/11/10

Comfort

Sometimes the need for comfort is so acute,
the circumstances so dire and dark,
the vortex you are pulled into so nightmarish,

everything taken away: food, water, sleep, all the familiar,
that you can’t find yourself within yourself,
you are a skin filled with nothing in particular

and it seems you will always be lost.
Even if someone is there who knows you well,
whose voice is the tether to reality,

who casts the line, holds the rod that reels you in,
even then
the need for comfort is so great

that anything from home,
any ice chip or thoughtfulness,
any kindness or generous voice

calls you back to hopefulness.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2010

2/24/10

Room on Cardiology Floor

I can still feel her surprisingly soft lips
pressing on my forehead,
a good bye and good luck kiss as she left.

My roommate, sweet Italian lady,
both of us not our best, faces pale,
hair tangled and matted.

Her husband, most kind, friendly
and hopeful. Full of stories with
ambulances and happy endings. How he’d

been recognized in the grocery store by the ambulance driver.
How she’d had a seizure maybe
and he’d carried her to the door

though he had a pacemaker and they were older.
And all her surgeries and still her spunk.
“Good bye,” she said, “It will be fine,”

or something like that in her gentle Italian accent,
pressed into my hopeless forehead.
Unexpected, spontaneous, natural, and welcome.

Three weeks later I feel the kiss still.
Her easy gesture, her faith,
her sweet kindness.

Of course she was right.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2010

Tomorrow: the Delights

Choice Point

It is a miracle! The blog “mechanism” allowed me to copy/paste from Word and post this poem! I forgot my past frustration and difficulties and started to put this poem in, then remembered that “It” hadn’t been allowing me to put even one letter from Word into this blog. Oh, do it anyway. Then!! Amazing!! It worked!!

Which means that I can again—easily—share my work on this blog. That light you see is the big smile on my face. As if the Universe is again aligned on my behalf. Silly, I know, but still…

I have been sharing this recent poem with friends, so I am sharing it with you too. As always, many things were swirling around that influenced this piece. Mary Jane is an interior designer (and lovely person) who is interested in healthy environments. I got to know her at the perfect time right before we were going to paint our house. Stephenie Meyer is the author of the very popular Twilight series, which I began reading when William Bloom, recommended them in an email newsletter and then my daughter asked me to read them with her. I already had the first book on my shelf. You know how sometimes you buy a book then it takes a while to actually read it? (Once I started, I gobbled all four of them up.) And finally, I noticed that I had recently met a number of men who were divorced and who struggled with that. This poem is dedicated to them. Of course it could be about any life-altering event.

10/17/09

From Mary Jane and Stephenie Meyer

For Ira, Bob, Geary and Eric

Something that shatters
pre-existing life structure
stretching out to the foreseeable future.

No restoration
of equilibrium
or the familiar,

the details
don’t matter:
a choice point where

all is divided into
before…and after
and darkness is the dominant color,

the decisive end…of what was,
the promising beginning…of what is:

verdant, vivid vibration,
riot of sensation,
vibrant colors of all description,

almost beyond bearing.

You get to the point
where you say this
lightening bolt that struck me

was the best thing
that ever happened.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2009