I come from there With the spark of Light, life and love. The light that emanates From my windows And the voices that echo Through the walls With play and song. The seasons come And shape the landscape. The house is warm, aglow Or cool and dark. The space we occupy And call home On this double lot Of land with Double driveways And a large lawn for Running feet And space for the swing. The hearth and place For childhood memories, Of love and stories Made believe and real, For connection And friendship, A gathering space For family and friends. The house may Be small and Feel confined At times Within these walls. But love Rules the day As we read Our bedtime stories And share our Nighttime rituals. We kiss and hug A love that lasts More than space or time Could ever endeavor. And I, too, am aglow Because I belong And I proudly Come from there.
I welcome and open to the mystery
The mystery of love: How precious, rare, Amazing and alive it feels when it is reciprocated and shared. The mystery of the body: The hormones, chemical compounds, the tissues and organs. Each unique and together They manifest into the whole. The mystery of creativity: Where a word, thought or prompt sparks the Imagination and I am writing again. The mystery of Modern technology: How it is new and novel terrain Yet ingrained into Every day life. The mystery of life: A sudden arrival without any effort And the path of Potential that Each life holds. The mystery of Earth: How our planet came to Be in the best position To create and sustain life. The mystery of watching steam float up from my coffee mug. The mystery of the flame Dancing atop my candle. The mystery of the glow in the darkest night. And the mystery of my role in it all.
Remember (part 2)
I don’t remember being born or how I came to be. I arrived and here I am. I don’t remember the very early years, So dependent on my mom. Her love, her safety The spaces we occupied. My first memory I remember is when I was two. My siblings and I were playing with a plastic toy house. My uncle blew cigarette smoke through the second-story windows. It was such a delight to see the shape, the form the floating vapors that defied gravity. I remember winters of sledding down the hill in the backyard on my mom’s childhood Flying Arrow sled. The joy and momentum of the downhill slope. I remember our swing set with metal frames and hard plastic seats that brought me to far away places only in my mind. I remember learning to roller skate for the first time. Clinging to the side wall as I found my balance, my courage, and eventually my confidence to skate on my own with grace and speed. There are so many moments that I may not remember. But the ones I do are cherished. And they connect me to my siblings and stand the test of time as they shaped and formed who I am today.
This house
This house of ours It is with love that we share the memories, the appliances and the furniture. We invite our hearts arms open wide. I am yours and you are mine. The furniture may change through the years, Along with the appliances and technology. The love is constant like the walls that shield us from the storms. When I am with you, I know true acceptance. There is no place for shame or blame of past circumstance. All are welcome to embody this place. The walls may hold all the memories: the proposal, the wedding, and contain our growing family as our hearts swell in this shared space. It may feel small at times. When we feel there’s an overabundance of toys and gadgets. There just doesn’t seem to be any free space to just be. It is a manifestation of our abundant love and ability to provide our children with cherished memories, A foundation of that security, A love they can carry with them into their own future houses.
In darkness
Each morning I awake in darkness. My mind tricks me that it’s still night. But the alarm can’t be wrong, Can it? So I grumble a little Then I sit up and swing my legs to the side of the bed. I take sweet side stretches Awakening my muscles and side body. Only then will I stand up And greet the day. I begin my morning yoga in pure darkness. The only light emanates from my iPad as I start a yoga video. My personal asana practice is quiet. Everyone else is slumbering. They, too, feel that it is still night. Too dark to awaken. So I enjoy the solitude and present moment to connect breath and movement. My yoga practice ends with a brief meditation. Then I click on a lamp so I can write in my mindset journal. Sometimes I write about last night’s dream Like a real, tangible memory deep in my mind. Oftentimes, I like to write my lunar affirmation and intention three times in a row in my notebook. That is my ideal morning trifecta while the sun is still in slumber. My favorite time of the year is when the sun rises while I’m in the shower. I see its rays peek behind the curtains and begin their path up along my bathroom wall. If I time it just right, the whole shower gets illuminated in fresh morning light. For now I will have to wait for the synchronicity of getting to bathe in sunlight. It is all right. I can wait. My morning routine is a constant even when the sunrise is not.
Colorless
The stretch of grass Once lush and green is now stunted and colorless. Another bright summer has past and the Bountiful harvest has been plucked out. The earth’s gifts enjoyed by both young and old. Their mouths hungrily gobbled up the bounty. And now the ground is bare, colorless Still with no life. In spring the new sprout shows there is No death, no end Just a new beginning. An opportunity to embark On a journey of inner knowing, Inner peace, inner stillness. Uttering hints at what may come to be. Inspired by Walt Whitman “A Child Said, What is the Grass?”
Coffee break
My hands cupped around the warm coffee mug. It is full of aroma And I savor the flavor. My fingers hook gently yet firmly on the handle as I bring it in for a sip. The warm liquid gets swallowed down my throat as I promptly go in for another taste. If I get distracted with conversation, with technology, with making future plans or anything that takes me away from the simple pleasure of drinking fresh coffee, the liquid starts to cool and moment by moment, its flavor gets diminished. The joy and pleasure is fleeting. And it is my intention and attention alone that keeps me centered in the here and now and not in autopilot. The warm flavor recedes like the rip current that calls waves back into the sea. I can still feel the faint warmth of my coffee mug cupped gently in my hands. I do not want to squander one bit of this temporary reprieve of the hustle and bustle of what we call modern life.
The Deciduous Tree
The deciduous tree does not appear as it once stood just one month ago. Its outstretched arms are glowing against the backdrop of the deep blue sky. Splotchy green with yellow or browned edges. Yet the mighty maple is just the sum of its many tiny parts. The branch reaches toward the sky on its solid trunk. A resting place for tiny buds that blossomed and burst into a big bold green. Seeds descended and dispersed. And now we get to see the leaves’ true colors. The deciduous tree does not get to choose when it’s time to blossom or seed. It is synched to the rhythm of nature beyond our concept of time. The seasons connect me and ground me in a world that always seems to be spinning faster and faster, Almost off-kilter Off balance. As the cycle of the season begins I’m suddenly reminded of the color, the beauty, the cycles of nature that surround me. Always there. A constant reminder that I, too, am a child of nature and connected to the timeless rhythms that surround me.
Candlelight
The autumn sky grows darker each passing night. The sun takes her time enjoying a late slumber. She knows when it’s time to rest and time to play. Candles warm the senses like a warm mug of herbal tea. Artificial light could never equal its warm amber glow. I marvel at the flame, how it flicks on the wick. A quiet solitary dance atop my candle. And when I blow out the flame, I make a small wish: To live another day. To appreciate the day’s gifts. To remember my intention And breathe in the lessons. There’s a small trail of smoke that lingers above a red yet fading wick. Remnants of what was once there. The wax erodes in tandem with the passing of time. And I am aglow inside and out.
Five ways of looking at the breath
1. Deep, slow rhythmic pace It grounds me. It takes me out of my thinking mind and I embody the present moment and smile. 2. A sense of control I can hold my breath. I can lengthen my exhales more than my inhales. I can whistle. I can sigh. I can sing and even make myself yawn. 3. Tight and constrictive In those moments of anxiety or hurt, my breath is shallow and tight like a sharp pain in my chest. When I try to take a deep breath, I feel my chest constrict and tighten like a sob about to break free. 4. Connection All living beings on this planet breathe be it with lungs or gills. We all enter this world and take our first breath. We laugh and cry together. We can chant OM. We can sing a melodic tune. 5. Conduit to peace When I remember that I can control my breath, I create the optimal route to peace with just one breath. I could argue with my words or ruminate an imagined reply in my mind. Or I can breathe and let it be.
Healing Insights 