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

The Sings

Someone posed the question: What is it that brings you untethered delight, especially when nobody is watching? I’ve a bouquet of such things in my heart, but the biggest flower right now would have to be the sings. May I explain? There are some tells. She needn’t speak. Autism tends

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Natura Illustratio

Nature is a picture book of wisdom and example, an illustrated guide to how we could arrive, and live, and die. Take, for example, a leaf in spring. It draws from mother tree the energy it needs and not a drop more, grows to the edges of its vibrant green

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Fat on Silence

  I need to write it down. I should do this before true memory fades and is replaced, as it so often is, by a recall that looks like The way I wanted it to be, or The way I think it should have been. This is what we do,

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SHE and DOE

              It was a few years ago that I found myself meandering in a quaint little town in western Massachusetts, about two hours east of home. I saw the sign, which read, simply, THRIFT. As a a fervent fan of space and simplicity, I

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Thalassophile’s Lament, August

              That place I left my last glass of calm, tabled and shimmering like the Sun himself had reached down and swished his mighty steamy hand in its vitalizing quell, the place I leave against my will, bits of devotion and enthusiasm dripping from

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The art that blesses my listening hands

              Making Art with Beach Stones My home hums with them–— the smooth and rough, pale and dark, striped, speckled, some with lines, or bits of mica mesmerizing the light. They number in the thousands by now, populating table and bins and buckets, lining

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Mothering Outside the Lines

The Bus Stop Moms From my morning window I would watch as they huddled casually, tossed light conversation back and forth, an occasional eye towards their kids who played and laughed together, finding sticks, tracing shapes and letters in the dirt. After the big yellow bus swallowed their chattering children,

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Praise at the end, for beginning there

A Prayer, Fertile For all the beginnings we cultivate from seeds, lay to cradle in the richest earth, give moisture with our tears, our sweat and handfuls of rainwater like offerings to the deities we name Hope, or Light, or Fire of Creation, I fall from standing into some posture

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I Write You, I Write You Not

I was thinking about not-writing, which is a special collection of behaviors called Really Uncomfortable Avoidance To Silence The Singing Muse, or RUTS for short. It is practiced by word gatherers of all kinds; novelists, playwrights, essayists, poets. Correction: actually, it’s the creative writers who engage in this behavior. Journalists

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