The ever changing thoughts That flow to and fro Like the incoming tide. Sometimes the current is strong And I get pulled under Stuck in thought. Good or bad Time ceases to exist: My current circumstance, The coffee beside me, The very breath itself. I am consumed in thought. What I encounter then is a choice. Moment to moment I can stop the monkey mind, the hamster wheel and I can break free. I can return to the ever present changing moment. The breath is my anchor. It flashes into my conscious mind And I find a silent reverie Befriended by my own Groundedness and strength. I encounter the moment Again and again. The thoughts change. The steadiness of my breath changes. The moment is ever changing. I can choose right now to swallow the bitter pill of being lost and consumed by thought. Or I can smile and breathe Knowing the choice was always mine and I am free.
Category: Connection
Stories connect us
Find your own fulfillment
The great life lesson was unknown to me As it was happening in the moment. It took many years of trial and error and trying on another’s ideas or practices into my own life. Some practices resonated deeply with me. Others I tried in vain to make work Unwilling to feel like a failure As I set out to try it yet again. Setting high unrealistic expectations then wondering and strengthening my own perceived shortcomings. It is natural and normal To try things on for size To see if it is a fit. It’s also natural and normal To try to make things work, To try again and again. As I’ve matured I finally learned The greatest lesson: That it is natural and normal To let it go; To thank it For not fitting quite right And to be on the lookout For a better fit. For a practice to truly stick It has to be modified And incorporated into every day life. If it sits on a shelf Or stays tucked away neatly In a notebook, Never to be visited again For months or years, It is just wishful thinking. Of course, we can feel like a failure But it wasn’t the right fit. It’s okay to dabble, To take just one piece And add it to your toolbelt If it works and Adds value to daily life. The final lesson of all is that It’s up to me to find my own fulfillment. I can try things on for size But I am in the driver seat. I can pick and choose And let the rest go.
LISTEN
The trees have Their own story to tell. Their roots run deep, Slow and powerful Beyond what my eyes can perceive. Listen To their wisdom. The ever silent witness Present to the environment, The changing seasons, The years come and gone, Steady and silent. Touch the tree bark. Its rough outer edge. Can I be a witness Without that hard exterior? Can I be vulnerable, Exposed to all the elements And be just as slow and powerful? Not hardened to the lessons But provide a shelter, To nest and give respite To the quiet integration; To take nourishment, To be held and to hold All who pass and take shelter? What emerges from the wisdom? What tales do I want to share? The trees have their own story to tell. If I get still and quiet, I can hear their wisdom.
Ujjayi
The heartbeat pulses in my ear. The glowing orb emanates Through my ears And into the world. A metronome of tick and tock. It speeds up with exertion. My breath helps quicken or soften its beats. The sound of the tide Turns over and over Rushing in and out From my throat to my nose. I can constrict the flow To create my own internal ocean. I am silent to all I encounter. Still in peaceful presence To the beats, To the incoming tide, To the moon in the sky, that waxes and wanes Its own everchanging journey. The tide is in tune and always heeds the call. Distance does not hinder the to and fro of the metronome dance.
Cinnamon
The fragrant cinnamon
sprinkled on my oatmeal
Fills my nostrils
Signaling the start of my day.
I break the fast
And gratefully accept
The flavors of blueberry, apple, and walnuts.
It is but a few minutes
Of quiet nourishment.
And I try not to get lost in thought
Of have-to’s and time constraints.
Each morning is like this.
A brief moment to savor
Before the mad rush of
Getting the kids ready for school
And my morning commute to work.
All is still
Just in this moment.
The floating fragrant cinnamon oatmeal
Fulfills and fuels me.
For I know not what today brings.
But for now,
Just in this moment,
I am nourished and whole.
[ Listen to this poem read by my friend Jess on her podcast The Pawtuxet General: https://www.pawtuxetgeneral.com/1885927/11432327-the-pawtuxet-general-episode-42 ]
In Winter we take it Inside
Nature is asleep. The barren trees A stark contrast Against the sky. What once blossomed A forgotten memory. What was jubilant And alive Now quiet, small and dark. I take the cue and Bring it inside. Even in winter I wish to bloom To continue to grow In mind and spirit To stay connected And tap into my inner And outer strength. The plant on my window sill Finds warmth and nourishment. The bird’s wing takes flight In search for what I know not. Its determined flight Beats into the sky. There is no respite When on the hunt. We hunt for Warmth and shelter. We hunt for understanding And being truly listened to And seen. We seek counsel And acceptance. In winter we take it inside. The nature of the season Demands it. And I take the cue and bloom.
What are you a YES for?
I am a YES for Ease Joyful movement Creative momentum Sharing my creative gifts Finding creative pockets of time and space Carving out time with my husband, Our loving connection, And supportive relationship. I’m a YES for Quiet, reflective mornings And peaceful evenings Ending in gratitude. I’m a YES for Inspiration and insights, Connecting to my inner wisdom, Nature, immersed in the Beauty of the outdoors. I’m a YES for Playtime, Deeply listening and loving the kids Being nourished and providing them Nourishment and safety in mind and body. I’m a YES for Acceptance The cycles of the moon and seasons Rest, love, and family Celebrating the wins And feeling good. I’m a YES for Fostering, maintaining And making new friendships. What are you a YES for?
FAITH
I circle around the sun Even though physically I have stayed and slept Within the same walls. It may appear to all my senses That I embody the same place Time and again. However, the sky tells a different story. In winter, the sun rises a bit more To the right in the eastern sky. Yes, daylight is short. But the minutes of sunshine Tack on to the days Even if I’m not paying attention. The world is quiet now. There is less bird song. Yet if I get quiet And listen, I can hear what the winter bird sings. I circle around the sun And have faith that Day will return After a long wintery night. I have faith that the season will change As it always does And is meant to. Further evidence that the journey Around the sun is Always in motion Never stagnant Never ceasing to surprise And delight. The momentum forward Is not always linear. But I have faith That I play a part In the great bird song today And the song that is not yet sung But is written on a paper airplane Caught in a breeze On its way To be heard and sung.
HANDS
My hands, oh, marvelous hands They are more than an instrument For survival and instinct. They hold what is dear. Protect and grasp. They lovingly clasp hands Overlapping the fingers of another Like a zipper All knit and closed up. They carry more than their weight And sometimes I burden them as I try to hold more than is manageable. They are in tune with the seasons Even when my head and thoughts are not. They reflect time and age. There is no denying the changing Shape and texture over the years. They hold my pen and Create shapes that move Across the page. They allow me to type and Send my stories across The globe. And with a click of a button, My hands reach out to you. My hands, Just for today, I will appreciate all you do, Routinized and mechanical at times, Without much thought You are always there for me. So today, I celebrate and thank you.
Each Day is a Gift
I welcome my mortality. It’s scary to share with another Thoughts of the impermanence of life. Perhaps it is too morbid a subject for some And it can really darken another’s mood. Once you hit middle age You begin to realize Half of a lifetime May already have been lived. Maybe one day you notice It takes the body longer to recover than it used to. Like I can’t roller skate as fast as before And my balance is a bit off-kilter. If today was my last day to live How would I want it to go? What would make my final moments Have meaning? Would I feel I’ve lived a well-lived and well-loved life? Or would I deeply feel the shortness of life And the reality that there isn’t enough time To do “all the things;” That there was more in this lifetime for me to experience? Checking things off a list or a life of comparison, wanting what they have even if it doesn’t resonate with you, isn’t the point. Each day I try to embody that life truly is a gift. And I intend to bring that appreciation And gratitude into all my days While I get to roam this earth.
Healing Insights 