The body is a vessel More than tracks of blood, Veins, arteries, nerves, Bone on tendon, Synovial and cartilage. It is a vessel that Forever is learning. It is not stagnant ever. It holds my breath And takes my breath away. It mobilizes me to action, To thought, to dream, to create. The body is a vessel for love. I can receive and freely give it. I can hold another’s torso And their secrets. I can laugh and cry. I can release and let go. I can hold and embody. Mine can twist and take shape Intertwine with my lover. I can stretch and realize My edges are further than I thought. I can smile and accept This body that is mine.
Surrender
It is an action not inaction to surrender. I allow that support And I am held, Comforted and loved. I breathe And I receive. I am grounded. The ground will always Meet me where I am, Catch me when I fall, And support me always.
With Fresh Eyes
With fresh eyes I begin again in meditation. Sounds and thoughts pass by. Just like the breath. I am the silent witness. Waves of awareness Swirl around me. Can I follow a sound From inception to conclusion? What stories and assumptions do I attach to them? Can I bring peaceful presence To my everyday life, To each encounter, To each thought? I begin again With fresh eyes And an open heart.
The Moon
The Moon holds all secrets.
Yours and mine.
It is a divine circumstance,
Not some random chance.
The Moon may appear busy
With its changing phases
And varied dance across the sky.
It is no secret.
It is a gift from above.
The dance of give and receive.
It is limitless and accessible to all.
The capacity to hold is unchanging.
The Moon listens to my heart.
It is with gratitude that I join
And dance with the stars.
[ Listen to this poem read by my friend Jess on her podcast The Pawtuxet General: https://www.pawtuxetgeneral.com/1885927/13768959-the-pawtuxet-general-episode-88 ]
Deciduous Trees (Part 2)
Deciduous trees start with a delicate beauty And end in vibrant hues again. The tree’s true colors are exposed. There is no holding back, conforming to standards or blending in. To spend the rest of your days in that beautiful authentic expression is something to behold and cherish. Unapologetic without concern of backlash. I celebrate the new blooms. They remind me of a fresh start And the excitement of something new. Fragile like the robin’s nest Sturdy and well made But too low to the ground. Not enough protection to promote healthy offspring. Life is all around us. The birds are learning too. They must feel loss. The robins lost their shelter, their home base. Is it too late to try again? Is nature a cruel teacher? Not so if it prevents future loss of life. We don’t punish the birds. It’s the nature of things. And death too is a part of that cycle Whether we like it or not. And we are a part of nature. It can never be removed No matter how urban and modern our surroundings. The pink blossoms are in their full glory And I am delighted.
Step out of the darkness and into the light
Step out of the darkness and into the light. I am here with you. Fear can make you feel small. And like a seed without enough space to grow, Your potential cannot fully bloom. Step out of the darkness and into the light. Your authentic voice and story need to be told. Liberate yourself from the binds that hold you back. I am here with you. Do not look outside yourself for validation of Who you were meant to be. It is safe to shine your light. Give yourself permission to bloom. It was always yours for the taking. Step out of the darkness and into the light.
“There is no way to happiness. Happiness is the way” Thich Nhat Hanh
If happiness had a clear, unambiguous course of travel, Would you follow it to the T? Would you not get distracted by what lies before you On the path as you travel to get there? Would you go by car? Perhaps that pace is too fast And one sideways glance away, you might miss The next mark on the road. I’d choose to go by foot. I imagine that happiness is like A hiking trail with blue square postmarks. Some are new and bright blue. They are easy to decipher. Along the more difficult terrain, The marks may be dull and faded. Can we trust that we are being led to happiness? What means happiness to me May not be happiness to you. So we must have a clear definition of what is happiness Before we embark on this journey. Or perhaps it is the course of travel itself That illuminates the path to joy. Is happiness the end point?
RELEASE
Release the urge to get it right Perfection is the joy destroyer. Release the desire to sound eloquent To have the right words delivered At the exact moment. Release and trust that I will receive What I’m meant to. There is no end goal No finish line No final product. We are all works in progress And there is always room for more: More edits, for rewrites, to rehashing And then what’s left? Hacked up, tattered words Left on the page. Torn fragments. Might as well make confetti And see where the words land. That would show perfection. I don’t have to do it right Or get it right. There is no finish line where I suddenly become who I’m meant to be. I am her now. I embrace and embody her now. There is no “there” to get to. I am the joy, the connection, The creator. I am the words that you see, The sounds that you hear. They are all a part of me And a part of you too. Where does creativity come from? The seed of the soul is my guess. What seeds are you going to plant today? What nourishment does your soul desire? What would you like to plant? Place them in your palm And touch the earth. You are forever supported And nourished.
The Maker’s Mark
Singed and tattered Void of life Just brown husks of what used to be. Do I let them stand there Like marked gravestones? Do I pull them out Roots so deep? I gave them time to bounce back. Now spring has sprung And the tattered and torn are not Returning back to glory. The maker’s mark on what has been But is never more.
SPRING
A new beginning, A return to life, To the cycle of the season of spring. There is change in the air: The stillness, the silence. The cold and dark longing of winter Has turned the page Like a new calendar Or blank sheet of paper. The momentum of change, Of growth, has begun. The wind reminds me that There is power beyond my control. It can be warm and gentle, or biting cold. Spring is the ultimate awakening. Spring is transition manifest. I awaken from my slumber Like the songbird or blue jay’s shriek A sudden shift or a quiet moment into being, To stretch and embody All that was meant to be. Spring is the entryway to fullness, To the temple of my heart. The darkest longing now bright and bold. A word deeply written on the page. A forest of chicken scratch Where the blank earth once stood bare.
Healing Insights 