Alternate realities
parallell linear mindset
Ego-less forays into
magical mysteries –
answers secondary
Float in ecstatic
ethereal landscapes
kaleidoscopic hues
Behold irrationality
a mad whirlwind of oneness
convening in momentary flash
The portal’s open
step aboard –
ensure your ticket
is round trip.
(For Eugi’s Weekly prompt: magic.
This is a rewrite of a poem formerly titled: Meet You At The Station.
Art my own.)
No birds today
snow obliterating view –
a portent?
I meditate
conjure images
of brighter days
Mindfulness
returns me
to moment
Find beauty
in what is –
transformation
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
Inhale – chest rises –
exhale – chest falls – summon new,
expel old; repeat.
(Haiku written for Ronovan Writes Haiku challenge: rise/fall)
Even as we harvest
the fruits of our endeavors,
as the leaves of summer
give over to golden dreams
and light reaches through
gathering clouds, illuminating,
celebrating; we must not forget
that we are a part of this living
miracle, that our lives, in harmony
with Nature, deserve reverence.
Thick morning mist
hovering…
the call of a loon
alluring…
scent of cedar and pine
refreshing…
I breathe in, exhale
releasing…
early morning rays
warming…
curtain of fog
receding…
ripples of water
lapping…
I breathe in, exhale,
releasing…
Under the umbrella
of green-leafed branches,
I pray for insight, for healing
With the river to guide me,
I walk, mindful of nature,
listening, heart open
As I breathe, I acknowledge
limitlessness of sky, life-sustaining
forces of earth, sacred steps
I sacrifice this separateness
to honour the whole, make room
for spirit, numinous connection.
Lethargic limbs
immobilize
while swarms
of thoughts
like predatory
insects
buzz
about
threatening
to invade
crevices
of the mind.
Imaginary nets
fail to repel
escape eludes
breathe
breathe
visualize peace
dissolve chaos
surrender
to source
return
to the one.
Meditating on the majestic beauty of the trees outside my window, I come to recognize something about myself. I cannot help but think that even though they are symbols of quiet strength, trees are not without their own vulnerabilities. Acts of Nature, or even human folly can bring them down, and so they, like me, are not immortal.
Perhaps none of us is meant to be an impenetrable force: the kind of force I aspired to in my youth.
You see, I always thought of myself as a strong woman, however; unlike the trees I contemplated in my last post, I was not flexible – bending graciously to the winds of change – but belligerent, resistant, and arrogant. I was a right fighter. Having grown up in an atmosphere of relentless uncertainty, I commanded myself to be strong, believing that with an iron will, I could gain control of life – not just my own, but the lives of those around me. I adopted an air of superiority – pretending to know better than anyone else – even though on the inside, I never measured up. Showing vulnerability was never an option. Instead, I must have appeared the fool, and undoubtedly hurt many others.
True strength, I realize now, comes in retreating in the face of adversity, and the willingness to see beyond personal righteousness. It involves an openness to understanding alternative perspectives, and the wisdom to perceive the truth underlying the turmoil.
My current life circumstances have brought me limitations: physically and mentally. My awake and energetic times are severely restricted. I am challenged to create a new definition of self, and what it is to be strong.
I dreamt of my dear cousin Bev last night. Bev passed away recently after battling cancer for ten years. In all those years she faced her struggle with a quiet strength: maintaining her outer poise, surrendering to the times of severe illness, and establishing healthy boundaries. She was a model for gracious living. Truly a strong woman.
Illness has brought me an opportunity to retreat for a while. It is allowing me the possibility of real change: measurable change. In surrendering my old sense of self, I will surely emerge new.
In the meantime, I remain open and vulnerable – not comfortable – but then at fifty-six years of age, I am well rooted. Like the trees.
Confined for hours at a time to my bed, I cheer myself by contemplating the trees outside my windows. There is something in their stoic beauty that both calms and inspires me.
Be as the tree a former meditation instructor taught me.
If I were a tree
my roots would run deep into the earth
and spread in all directions
grounding me.
Present.
My trunk would be wide and solid
weathering all storms
supporting other life
a tower.
Strong.
My branches would reach up to the sky
and dance with the breezes
and bend with the changing seasons
and bow to Nature.
Flexible.
If I were a tree
I would be calm, yet strong;
have heightened awareness, yet be rooted in reality.
I would yield to change,
yet stand proud in my own existence,
growing with grace.
If I were a tree
I would live in harmony
with Nature.
Present, Strong. Flexible.
Fully alive.
(Image from: www.nbcdfw.com)
“Meditation will open whole new worlds for you,” the psychic proclaimed.
“I know nothing about it. How do I start?” I was really just being polite. Dragged to this session unwittingly – I thought we were going to be playing euchre – I didn’t want to burst my friends’ bubbles by telling them how skeptical I was.
“It’s really very simple. Find a place and time where you know you won’t be interrupted, clear your mind, and focus on the center of your being.”
Really simple. I decided to try it, since the woman had said a few things that hit home. Maybe she was right about this too.
Step one turned out to be a problem. I was twenty-eight years old, and pregnant with baby number three. Finding a consistent time and place to practice meditation was a challenge. If and when the girls did nap at the same time, I would use those moments to do laundry, prepare a meal, or try to catch a few winks myself.
“Make time,” she had insisted when I told her about my busy schedule. “It is up to you.”
I felt so inadequate as a spiritual being, and at the same time driven to prove I could do it. I grabbed every minute of solitude that I could find. I would learn to practice the art at the drop of a hat. I would become super meditator.
The psychic was right. I had profound revelations, and discovered a new source of wisdom from within. It was amazing.
“Doing it in the same place, and at the same time, communicates your intent to the subconscious, unleashing the inner wisdom,” she had explained.
It was true. With practice, every time I went to my meditation place I would experience that connection, and sometimes even without seeking it, insights would flow.
Then one day, an amazing thing happened. I was out for lunch with a business associate and we were trying to figure out a mutual problem. Neither one of us could find a solution, until I excused myself and went to the Ladies’ room.
Clarity overcame me before I could even flush the toilet, and as I excitedly revealed the answer to my colleague, I marveled at how easily the idea came to me……in the bathroom…..the same place where I practiced meditation at home.
It seems that my subconscious mind is not particular about which bathroom I use. Now I experience inspiration when nature calls.
One Woman's Quest 