Raindrops form into puddles.
ripples dance and gather
in concentric circles
as they meet and land.
Is the drop’s essence still there?
or is it formless,
beyond the puddle
beyond the many parts,
perhaps something greater?
Do we lose our individuality
when we sleep, when we eat,
when we digest,
when our heartbeat drums?
Tag: heartbeat
The World Makes Its Own Kind of Music
the song of the bird
the song of the whale
the drumming of raindrops
the howling wind outside
a whirlwind of brown dead leaves rustle.
All symphony.
Even the ear-piercing airplane engines
as they prepare to take flight.
Even the neighbor’s loud, barking dog
that seems to holler out at hourly intervals.
All the world is filled with music.
When all is quiet and the earth seems to be asleep,
my heart leaps into rhythm and drum
– beat after beat –
A constant companion.
I, too, am an instrument.
I can clap, tap or snap.
And when I hum or sing,
a choir of bells arises in my throat.
Music fills the silence.
The steady quiet breath,
a yawn – even a sneeze –
all longing to be a part of that glorious symphony.
My dreaming landscape
Beating drums like beating wings
of the mourning dove
It purrs as it takes flight
- short bursts of fancy -
until it is out of sight.
The quiet under the chatter
- the pause breaks rhyme and meter -
even original thought might appear
before it dives back underwater
melting where ice meets the sea.
The boom of melting glaciers
the noise blaring out of our devices
- out of our mouths -
till one melds into one
then bellows into the night.
Disrupting peace and calm,
steady breathing and beating hearts
- awake without warning -
where rumination and worry
have nowhere to hide.
No noise to distract
nowhere to be
- just hear -
as my mind takes flight
and plunges back into dream.
Unconscious and subconscious
submerged once again
toiling and boiling underfoot
solving and cajoling - nipping -
Here, I gather the seeds of wisdom
(the seeds of nourishment)
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.
Healing Insights 