Categories
Poetry

In The Gentle Woods

It is the depths that call me here.

It is the silence

and the bells

of yesterdays wish.

Let there be now.

Let there be this walk alone

in the gentle woods.

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Categories
Poetry

As I Am

And I will quietly be

as I am.

Yes, I will quietly be.

Categories
Healing

Healing Pieces

They were tears like rain. The sort of rain that brings your soul to life as you feel it hard and cold on your skin. Refreshing. Beautiful and nourishing, were those plentiful tears of mine.

I was meditating. It was early afternoon and the baby was sleeping. I’d set the intention to heal my heart, and to clear whatever stuck energy might be blocking me from achieving my highest purpose in life.

I still don’t know what the exact blockages were/are.

But I know that by the end of the meditation, I understood why several of the most heartbreaking things that have happened in my life had to happen. And that they had to happen so that not only I would grow in love, but also, so that others might grow in love, too.

Isn’t that the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard? Firstly that this sort of divine intelligence lies within the very skin we wear. But also, that even the bad things in life serve their specific purposes for the good of universal evolution.

Of course, I could have been making it all up.

Of course I could have been.

But the tears that smashed down my neck and the knowing smile that lit my whole being told me otherwise.

We are a tapestry. Not one of us leaves the quilt without touching another.

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Categories
Life

Chamomile

The word sipping is very pretty, isn’t it? Delicate, like the action it shows. I can see a small pair of hands, a little tea cup beside a little light. And I know it is home.

I know it is me.

I’m sipping chamomile tea and wishing to be held like this more often. Wishing to be seen in the softness, wishing to share it and have others agree it is a beautiful softness we feel.

Tea is like that. Delicate, like the first breeze of spring, like the bunnies that graze by the river, in the evening. It sounds like a fairy tale, doesn’t it? An unreal imagining, only it’s true.

And so, so beautiful as the delicate rolls all around me.

I have been struggling more than usual over the past few months. Missing the beautiful flow I found a while back, and yet also feeling the embers of momentum begin to burn within me once more.

I wake each morning at 6 and I meditate, followed by yoga if I can fit it in. This is holding myself and my family as best as I can, with love.

I’m proud of myself for giving myself and my family these gifts.

If only a beautiful sun would light the rest of my world, so I could see clearly the path ahead. I forget myself so easily. What I love. Who I am. Each step is as sure as it should be. Why is it I continue to search for relief on the horizon?

I am home.

Let me stay here.

Let me fall into this beautiful sweet depth, forever.

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Categories
Poetry

The Stories We Tell

The stories we tell ourselves

about what life

is,

does,

means,

will make our hearts

or break our hearts.

The choice,

I suppose,

is ours.

Make, break

or both, sometimes.

If only the answer were simple.

Then again…

what is simple?

Categories
Life

The Cookie

We spend a great deal of our lives being afraid of the cookie, don’t we?

Too much sugar, too much fat, too much cookie induced shame (note to self, and the world: shame causes more damage than the cookie.)

If only we’d take a moment to just…love the cookie.

Just love it, and eat it.

It is a beautiful creation, gifted to the world by someone who understood that it was okay to enjoy our humanity while we are here on earth.

I’m no longer afraid of the cookie, and because of this my whole life has changed. The black soot of fear no longer owns every choice I make.

I just love the cookie. I love the cookie, and live my life being aware of any cookie danger, but not afraid.

I eat the cookie slowly.

The beauty of life is in the cherishing of it.

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Categories
Life

The Consciousness of Plants

The garden is abundant with Calla Lillies.

There is something about them that I know, something that speaks to me through the softness and sway of their leaves and sweeping, cupped petal.

Theirs is an energy much like the soft breeze of spring that I love so much. It is an energy elegant but dear, and I know that I am that. I know I am that very same softness.

I am not a vegetarian, nor am I a vegan, although I care deeply for animals and respect them just as much as I do the human folk I share a table with. I’ll eat the animals, though, because plants are also alive and must be sacrificed in order for my body to consume them. That consciousness lives within plants does not seem a far out idea for me to accept…because I feel every inch of their life.

Plants, trees, flowers, herbs… I believe they are all very much alive, and as conscious as you or I. Live a day within my skin. I assure you, you would believe, too.

Our limbs grow without us consciously commanding them to. So do those of plants.

We become diseased without consciously intending to, sometimes with death the end result. So do plants.

I eat plants because I have to, just as I eat meat because I have to.

I don’t take either for granted.

Life is beautiful life, down here on this great big spinning rock of ours.

I cherish every curve.

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Categories
Life

Alone

It is raining, and I am alone.

And there is sorrow in these parts, and knowing that life is terrible and beautiful, all at the same time.

I am alive with all of that.

I am alive with the sorrow and all the quiet of all the world.

I shall drink some coffee.

I shall drink it well, and hold my cup with love.

Categories
Poetry

The Orchard

As I sit quietly, alone,

with the birds as my friends,

I watch the orchard

sway with the breeze

and I ask myself:

Is it the orchard, alone, I see?

Or has the orchard become

the miraculous creation

of the wind?

Categories
Poetry

They Know Not What They Do

Why,

when the road is so beautiful,

(dappled sun on white)

do these lashing tongues

slice my delicate sky, so?

I shall find a cave, as promised.

A dear and perfect home

to soothe.

And I shall cherish the broken,

never shall I fight, as they do.

They know not how their barbs sting.

Be silent and sure, my battered soul.

Silent and hopeful,

the slicing pain will end.