Melinda Coppola

twenty four may | from the inside out

Melinda Coppola

twenty four may | from the inside out

About My Blog

I started this blog to quiet the voices in my head and heart that have been whispering and cajoling and sometimes yelling at me to write more.

This is a space where all the parts of me—mother, poet, wife, lover of beach stones and furry creatures and frequent toe-dipper in the river of song, Yoga practitioner, and teacher and she-who-cooks and she-who-makes-art and she-who-loves-silence, where all the parts of me can come out to play.

I started this blog to keep myself engaged in dialogue with my soul. If what I write interests you, educates you, moves you, …well, that’s a beautiful bonus.

Most Recent Blog Post

I Wish You Knew

In the Garden

 

Imagine if you will, dear one, dear one and all, that you are sent to manifest something unique and quite vital to the world.  You arrive as rich seeded earth, landing in just the right geographic location to support your eventual yield. The trees and the flowers and the shrubs in this area respond perfectly to your soil, the climate supports what your seeds will send forth. The birds who nest here and those that just pass through on their migratory flights need just what will rise from your depths.

Your mission here, then, is this: to allow what is inside you to come forth naturally and without concern for the pattern your greenery makes on the dirt or the or color of your fruit. Let judgment or comparison be themselves trespassers in your garden.   You will learn to recognize what is weed and what your true crop is to be. You’ll learn to pluck out the unwanted; tension and fear and all that which prevents your flowering and takes up space in your earth. You will learn to lift your leaves toward the sun, to soak in each precious rain, to sink your roots deep into the hot earth and allow the bounty of yourself to thrive. You will learn to surrender and watch your garden grow in healthy ways.

Let your gifts root well and blossom and send new seeds out into the world, but do not be concerned about where they travel. Do not try to follow them but rather release them to Mother Wind and let them find their own way.

Your landscape, your offerings will change, the nature of your soil will evolve in a dance with the seasons over years and you will learn to love the worms that do their deep work tirelessly, turning, turning creating more from enough and making space for all that must come forth. You will learn to let your heavier minerals and salts sink toward the core of this earth as your elements merge with her, become part of her so none can say where or when you were not here, or if there ever was a time or place that you did not belong to.

You will draw strength from these deep places, your evolving layers will grow the alchemy of all that is alive within you as roots feed shoots upward into stems, upward into leaves and wild flowers, branches, nesting spots for creatures of every glorious kind. And what lifts toward the sun, what drinks in the rain and sends glorious flowering plumes of scented energies up and out into the heavens, and what holds deep in the earth, what roots and sustains, will be the One continuum of Spirit, expressed through blooming unique you as a gift from God to the garden of all humankind.

 

Melinda Coppola

Read More Blog Posts

LATELY

The ground seems foreign, new roots and stones anchored in the middle of familiar paths, and my feet stumble more, much more. Are you stumbling too? Such heavy air, a downward press on the shoulders makes it hard to look up, check out the sky. I can’t speak for you,

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When the Beginning is also the Ending

I haven’t done a lot with poetic forms. Something inside of me chafes at the notion of trying to fit the body of a poem, beating heart and all, into a prescribed number of lines or a particular shape or meter. I did enjoy this exploration of palindrome verse, though,

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Medicament

Medicament This morning’s waking, tight and tender to the touch, felt like neck ache, and all along the spine of this day my heart climbed and slid, ridge-riding the grief and uncertainty of these past months, pushing up towards bone-like pinnacles, vertebraic protrusions of more bad news— illness and violence,

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Gifts and Visitations

It’s been just over a month since my dear friend and soul sister Marina died, after a quick and nasty tussle with appendiceal cancer. She visits my consciousness daily, in ways both fleeting and substantial. We talked a lot about the afterlife in her last months. She told me clearly

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Dragonflies

As I write this, my dear friend Marina lies dying in a lovely room inside the oldest house in an historic and pretty New Hampshire town. A wonderful woman who worked with her in the local general store has taken her into her home. Hospice has set her up well

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Little Big Thing

“Stay in awe of life. The little things are the big things. “ ― Richie Norton “I’m cold.” Bink had just gotten up, a good hour later than she used to get up on any given pre-Covid Monday. My eyes scanned her body, noting the hybrid pajamas I’d hastily grabbed

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Time, Place, Classroom

WHEN The world gets so noisy. Too many voices straining, pushing past their natural limits to be heard. Our small ears can’t discern provenance or factuality. Reactions quicken, turning knee-jerk, protective. WHERE There is the place where trees thicken into extended families, root systems entwined beneath the earth. Look for

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Collateral Sorrow

It’s been a time of times, a steady landslide of uncertainties. Yes, the Covid, the shutdown. Yes, Bink and so many other adults with disabilities being home all day every day for many weeks, with all the usual programs and activities canceled. Yes, the mass suffering and loss that has

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When all this is over…

WHEN THIS IS OVER Bring bread, chewy and warm, wrapped in that red checkered tablecloth that always sings picnic, which is short for happy family, easy friendships, peace and plenty in our town state country planet. We never went on one, a picnic, not once in all our together years

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