The miracle is not to walk on water. The miracle is to walk on the green Earth in the present moment, to appreciate the peace and beauty that are available now.
—Thich Nhat Hanh
Today the miracle is to sit
in the sunlit room and be
in the sunlit room,
to be here and only here,
here in the bountiful silence,
here in the shifting shadows,
here in the hands of midwinter,
not in this same room five years ago,
but now as the tulips
drop the soft curls of their petals
like lingering pink praise.
So seldom in these grief ridden days
do I feel a feeling so pure
as this peace that arrives
on the low-angled light
when I am quiet and still
and the world invites me
to show up for whatever
slim warmth there is, and
know it is enough.
Posts Tagged ‘stillness’
Apricity
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged miracle, presence, stillness, warmth, winter on January 22, 2022| 12 Comments »
So Many Ways to Do It Right
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged being right, falling, path, stillness on March 13, 2021| 2 Comments »
This longing to get it right—
to not only find the right path
but to walk it with grace,
without stalling, without stumbling.
But the forest is dark and deep
and the paths are many—
and I fall, and in falling,
I stop.
So this is what it takes
to notice the beauty of being still,
to see how staying in place, too, is a path,
how falling, too, is a grace.
How much easier it is to walk now
when I trust any path I’m on is the right one,
even this one where I fall,
even this one when I don’t move at all.
One in the Center
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged stillness, wind on July 8, 2020| Leave a Comment »
Still to Come
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged quiet, self talk, stillness on July 2, 2020| 5 Comments »
There will be a time when I will sit quietly
on the chair and feel no urgency to rise, to rush.
Won’t feel the crush of the unfinished list,
won’t feel late, overdue, behind. I may not
even know the time, won’t fear the tick of the clock
as an adversary. Perhaps I’ll even close my eyes
and lean back and let my limbs soften
like honey warmed in the sun.
An idea might come, but I’ll not try to capture it.
This isn’t laziness, no part of me will think so.
No, I’ll revel in the slowness, the unhurried day.
And I’ll remember, perhaps, a time when the ticking
felt like a bomb inside me. Where did it go,
I might wonder, as I pour myself another cup of tea,
the scent of bergamot citrusy and bright.
Pulling Off I-70 Between Grand Junction and Denver
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged driving, quietude, solitude, stillness on June 24, 2020| 5 Comments »
I want to linger at the side of the road
where the dark birds sing into the eddies of dawn,
yes linger in the low-angled light, in the big-hearted shadow
that blankets this bend in the canyon. Though I have many
miles to drive before I arrive, let me stay here
a while beside the river, still for a willowy moment, the water
the only thing moving. How many landscapes do I pass
without meeting them? How many worlds do I miss
as I rush from one here to the next? Oh bless this
quiet, where there is no hum of highway, no rumble,
no center line, no blur. Why do I so seldom linger,
my bones full of rush and current. In this moment,
I remember how deeply I love the stillness of rocks
that haven’t moved for a thousand years, the calm
of the dirt that has nowhere, nowhere to go.
It Takes (Almost) Everything
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged change, stillness, wind on June 15, 2020| 2 Comments »
The wind, every day now, the
wind, the wind, the clamorous
wind, it lifts my dress and whips
my hair, the riotous wind, it
steals my words, unwinds my thoughts, the
demanding wind, the wilding wind, wind
that spreads fire, wind that unbranches the
cottonwood trees, the wind, the wind unlayers
me, invites me to find someplace still in me,
the wind, the relentless wind.
Nada
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged music, nothing, silence, stillness on February 29, 2020| 4 Comments »
written at the Carmelite Monastery in Crestone, CO
It holds everything, silence,
offers itself as a blank staff
on which every song is written—
the tiny hymn of insect wings,
the baritone of the jet as it flies
from one measure of sky to the next,
the dry requiem of rustling grass,
the emphatic chorus of crow.
How generous, silence,
am I willing to know it?
How it includes even the cough,
the belch, retching, the wailing,
the snarl, the scream, the shatter,
and scores these in concert with the hum,
the lush purr, the whisper of the lover,
the ecstatic tremulo of sigh.
There is no sound it refuses to hold.
Its patience is infinite.
So when we, like weary pilgrims,
tired of hearing the percussion
of our own footsteps, arrive at its doors,
silence receives us, welcomes us home.
Instead of Getting Riled
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged Alabama, bird, meditation, pelican, poem, poetry, stillness on December 9, 2019| Leave a Comment »
The pelican dives
into the water,
rises again. Hovers.
Dives. Rises.
Each time, the water is quick
to forget the intrusion
loses its ripples,
stills. A thought
is a kind of a pelican.
A woman is a kind
of a bay. The pelicans
will always dive.
The bay will always
return to stillness.
A woman might
learn to live this way.
The Gnoissienne 2 Speaks
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged erik satie, music, poem, poetry, quiet, stillness on November 17, 2019| Leave a Comment »
yet another poem inspired by this composition by Erik Satie
You wonder why I haunt you
like moonlight, why I come to you
like morning fog, dream thick and cool,
why I steep myself into your thoughts
like bergamot in black tea.
You wonder why I seldom leave you,
why I slip into your silences
the way rye darkly slips into bread.
It is my work to give you shivers,
make you tremble, make you still.
It is my work to make you fall in love
with the darkness inside yourself. It is my work
to be the unexpected black swan, and you,
it is your work to be the night pond.
One Freedom
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged flower, garden, meditation, poem, poetry, stillness, transformation on September 6, 2019| Leave a Comment »