Childhood is a fleeting state
where joy, and permission to
pretend, and be anyone we choose
becomes our whole world
The real takes a back seat to the imaginary
And this is a gift bestowed to the human race
The world is our oyster and our playground
We try on new personas like a new hat
and we can imagine grandiose lives
and change course on a whim
We suspend reality and just become
the superhero, the villain,
the dancer, the performer
Magic is real and all around us
Pure love and joy can reside there;
sadness and angry outbursts
feel just as powerful.
We are consumed and carefree
To be a child in this world
is a gift to behold
Tag: joy
Practice Joy
Joy brings peace and connection
It is not for the select few,
But it is a choice and
I want to be an active participant
Joy is in birdsong,
the wildflower reaching
toward the sun
Joy is within
Joy is without
Even when there is challenge,
some hardship or pain,
The current of joy runs underneath
It is in the airwaves
The rainbow knows this
The prism, the light, the dark
Joy is not the opposite
of sadness
Happiness is not required here
Joy is in a smile, in a tear
Joy is in memory and reverie
Joy is music, Joy is song
Joy is my birthright and my purpose
How soon I learn this
then I seem to forget
That is why I choose to practice joy
Movement is in my nature
Freeform like freewriting
the blank page is my canvas
my pen, my body
an instrument of expression
My spirit soars as my body connects
to the music, to the lyrics
to the words of inspiration
I draw out and play out
There is freedom and softness.
Here, I can be fickle or full of praise.
I dare to lavishly adorn the page
and my space with beauty and charm
with joy and creativity
I embody this place, this space
It is mine for the taking
And I bow in gratitude
a mindful prayer of spirit
freeform and tangible
for all to see
Little Bird
Soar little bird
find safety in the many.
Many hungry mouths
they do not know where, what
or when their next meal is.
The struggle for survival is real.
You have to always be on guard
in case of predators.
Even in all the danger and uncertainty,
the little bird sings its melody
so sweet and uniquely its own.
It sings not only as a calling,
as a means of communication,
but because it is its own
unique expression of the good,
the beauty, the gift of this thing
called life.
Many humans may never know
what a gift today brings.
The little bird reminds me
that I am not alone;
that seeing the good is not wasteful
or a trivial thing
but the only true and real reason to live.
Enjoy the brief moments of pleasure and joy.
They are the things made out of stardust.
What a marvelous thing that made me and you.
That spark of life. I take it gently in my hand
and place it over my heart
in a revery and duty
it is mine to carry.
No longer secret knowledge
only for the saints and the sages.
It is not so quiet and humble
but the echoes of the ancients
bellowing out on loudspeaker
and humans have been too busy
living in their head
that many may have missed
the many glimpses of this universal truth.
Each day is a gift.
It does not only belong to the few.
It is a universal truth and right.
Hold out your hand.
Be prepared to not only see but feel
the magic transform into raw energy
to be that songbird in the trees
with not only a tale in its heart
and a whisper of truth on its tongue.
But to rejoice and celebrate this day
upside on the earth
Feel and be that joy, my little bird.
The mockingbird
The mockingbird laughs outside
on a tall branch of the tree.
It brings the joy
and the reminder
that laughter heals.
It is good medicine
to lighten up
to be lighthearted.
It makes all the moments
of the day
just that more precious.
To hear the mockingbird,
I am reminded of all
my bird visitors I have
come to know
just by being still enough
Quiet enough
to recognize their unique markings
knowing that I too am my own
unique expression.
The quiet stillness of winter
The quiet stillness of winter
that silent falling snow brings.
Its white beauty leaves a mark
on all it touches.
I am warm here
inside under blankets and layers.
The heater spurts hot air
to keep me snug and cozy.
The squirrels move in bursts
fits of flight and fancy
Gathering what they can
to survive another day.
I marvel at the young ones
who have a playful spirit
among the game of survival.
The snow falls onto them.
They seem not to notice
the snowflake kissing its cheek.
I find my own sense of joy
in the slow quiet gray.
A warm mug in my hands,
and soon a pen appears.
It scrawls across the paper now.
We are all connected.
Even the shelter, the comfort
a façade for what is true.
This day is a gift.
Our bodies roll and turn.
We stretch our muscles and our limits.
Limitless ground sprawls to the horizon.
The nameless critters
and those with wings
take flight
a dark mark across a gray white sky.
Snow floating down
quiet and blanketed.
The Earth sleeps and I
find comfort in nature‘s ever changing beauty.
Mine for the taking
as our bodies merge into one
green and blue globe.
We aren’t that different
sheltered and warm
a facade for what is true.
This day is a gift.
Let’s make it a good one
The magenta slide beckoned us all.
The sun was shining.
The clear air filled our lungs.
We were not supposed to be here today.
This slide, this green open space was
Not on the agenda.
But isn’t life marvelous?
Our well-thought out plans went
Right out the window.
One cancellation.
And a shift,
A rift in our schedule.
Let’s make it a good one.
Let’s not squander it,
Smooth it over with more tasks.
The gaps filled with joy,
A playful laugh.
A child calls out to his mother.
You run into my outstretched arms
And call to me, to watch you run,
Watch you play.
A smile forms across my face.
My lips blow you a kiss.
We were not supposed to be here today
But I’m glad we did.
“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?
Bloom into JOY
The succulent fruit hangs from the peach tree just waiting to be plucked. With just a small amount of force the branch gives way its bounty. A tight snag Then a snap with release. The shape is like a little sun A glowing orb cupped in my hand. The orchard is full of these golden jewels. A bounty of sweet joy. A little green leaf left its mark on the flesh with a little shade from the rays. The rays gave it nourishment And now I jubilantly hold It close to me. I smell its fuzzy soft skin and take a bite. Oh, succulent ripe peach! Its juices no longer contained and they release out with the scent of summer and promise. And the creative potential to alchemize into something more than a mere glowing orb on a tree just waiting for the right passerby to bring its gifts into fruition. What seemed impossible to the little blossom when the sun whispered, “You are more than what you seem. You just wait and have faith.” And I’m at awe to see It bloomed into joy.
I come from there
I come from there. Far over the edge where the sky meets the earth. The trees line the horizon With never ending evergreen. I come from there. The warm grass with little crawling insects. A green soft blanket underfoot. I come from there. Where salty air cools my skin and fills my lungs with care. I come from there. Far over the edge where the sea spreads out to a flat horizon whose edges knows no bounds. I come from there Where rain melds and becomes my tears tears of joy tears of sorrow nourishment and sustenance. I feel and appreciate it all. I come from there. Where home greets me at the door. A warm embrace. A quick burst of chatter about the day. We are welcome. We are loved. We belong And call this our forever home. I come from there. The lovers embrace. The calm after the storm. The seed of potential. The green light of love. The sparkling emerald of my heart. I come from there. I just know in my bones. There was no lesson. No guidebook or post to mark my path. The landscape was laid out before me. Welcomed me with a warm embrace. Sunshine on my face. Sustenance to survive. Laughter, joy and connection to make it all worthwhile. Mine all mine. My story. My experience. My joy and sorrow. I come from there. The edge. The sea. The air. The sky. The grass. The rain. And I am welcomed home to mother earth greeted by a new day and embraced by the moon each night I come from there. The loving world and welcomed embrace
Healing Insights 