The purple crocus appears
it burrows through
the hardened earth and pushes away
Dead leaves of seasons past.
A pop of color haphazard amid
the gray and browns
of yesteryear
All in perfect timing.
The starling is perched above me
a thin twine ensnared and jutting
across its strong beak
Nesting time is here.
Another starling calls out
a steady, monotone cry
its glistening purple and blue
head and stark beady yellow
eyes. The tail pure green turquoise
How unique its color
its cry
Blades of tiny green
fill in and around the patches of brown
new growth and hardily
All in perfect timing
Tag: time
The Waiting
Time slows to a crawl
The breath is my anchor
to the here and now
It is a soft place to land.
Time feels beyond my reach
I am either behind it
or waiting for a future moment
when it seems just right
To balance between
the waiting and the go
can be frustrating
uncomfortable
My thoughts are stuck
playing a loop
on the same recording
and it is hardly helpful
My thoughts are a made-up story
Where fact or fiction meld
into an excuse – a righteous reason
and I dutifully follow the trail it makes.
Distraction
Wishing things to change
but me, myself, I don’t
change is scary but necessary
How we grow
How we transform
How we create
All effects from change itself.
Do I embrace the wait?
The change that comes too soon
or seems to agonize on and on
Where’s the silver lining?
Isn’t that the point?
I have to wait
There is nothing I can do
but wait.
We are Sacred
We tend to work like old cars. Something goes: The engine. The body. The smooth flow of heat and friction. The get up and go. The pedal to the metal, as they say. But we are not machines or computers. Even if society tricks us, Influences us, Tells us otherwise. I am more than a widget giving an output. Yes, we all need each other. We are an interdependent species, Even when we can feel the most alone. Our time is sacred and limited Precious and potent. How can society run simpler? With less friction, tension and pressure So that what we do matters less than Who we are and how we show up? Maybe that is what maturity and the taking time To ask the questions brings -- Not just rote memory Of what we have always done -- That feels like important, sacred, fulfilling work And maybe a focus I can further explore. Today I am grateful that I’m able to focus On what matters: Healing and connection. Asking. Being curious. Showing up authentically. And maybe illuminating a path for my daughters So they do not fall into those same busy-til-you-break traps.
What’s missing these days?
Time to pursue my creativity; Too many distractions and obligations That eat away my energy. And then when it's a good time to do the one thing I most want to do, I put it off, yet again. In the moment, Dusting the shelf just seems easier than writing. Just when I’m getting myself Motivated to start, There’s always one more thing to do. And that seems to take priority Over my creative pursuit. What’s missing? Time to connect to myself and others. A sense that there isn’t enough time; That I could or should be doing more. Although, how can that possibly be true? What ifs, coulds and shoulds are easy to be explain and defend When there’s no evidence to the contrary. And it takes me further away From my desires, my dreams. Even though I know the reasons are untrue That I can prioritize myself, My creativity, My movement, And the momentum gets started again. Everything ebbs and flows. Energy and time. Winter is the season of quiet reflection Of taking stock And not regret for what never was And couldn't ever be.
A less frazzled commute
How can I have a more relaxed morning? I feel it is a frame of mind. I can choose to say, “I’m late!” and all the angst that follows. Or I can just say, “I’m doing the best I can. I got this!” And I usually then feel less hurried.
My morning commutes used to be highly stressful. Then I realized the main source of my stress occurred when I was traveling in the high-speed lane. As soon as I got over to the travel lane, I relaxed my grip on the steering wheel. My shoulders relaxed a bit. I took a few deep breaths. Now I hardly use the high-speed lane when I’m driving to work. I only will on the rare occasion when I have to pass another car. And guess what? I get to work on time!
I always seem to get there on time.
I don’t obsessively check the clock in my car during my commute. It doesn’t matter what it says. I’ll get there when I get there. And thank the stars I always do.
There’s a lot of road rage: angry, stressed, frazzled energy that crosses my path. I could choose to feel the tension boiling beneath the surface where you don’t want to be the recipient on the tail end when I lash out. I could charge full speed ahead in line with that energy or brazenly be “Me first!” with the tailgating and high emotions that follows.
Or I can choose to stay on my path: Just traveling. Passing through.
We all have the same want: to get to our destination safely. No one wants to get hurt.
How I react sets me up for good or bad. Is it worth saving a few more seconds?
The hardest part for me is being a passenger and relinquishing my need to be in control. I notice that at times I press my foot down on an imaginary brake when I think my husband is driving too close to a car in front of us. Over the years, my husband and I tend to only have arguments when we’re on the road. I judge his speed and length between cars. I am unable to relax and be present. All we want is to have a good conversation while we travel.
I can choose what to focus on. I can choose connection or outside factors beyond my control. I want to let go of my need to be in the driver’s seat. I want to make peace with the fact that I can’t control what other people on the road doing at that moment. Only I can decide how I want to interpret my thoughts and feel my emotions.
What would you choose?
Healing Insights 