Union

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             Image courtesy of: https://www.art2dstudio.com/fine-art-nudes-figurative-art/glowing-soul-abstract-figure-fine-art-print-yoga-art

 

The journey began on a rainy, cold, and dark November evening

Blacker than Black

Sheets of sideways rain and gusts of raw wind

Driving in circles

I misplaced myself

Still, I was determined to heal

Something was calling my name

When I discovered its source, I knew I was home

  Yoga:

a sacred space

The challenge to stay grounded

Yoga:

The  shedding of the stain of suffering and taint of living in a toxic world

  Yoga:

a refuge

Yoga:

The discovery of auras and energies and cellular spaces

that transform into a places for healing

and ways to move through pain

Yoga:

Once I walked in darkness, now I walk in light

 

 Day 17: This poem came from a post in 2012 entitled:  How Yoga Saved My Life https://wordpress.com/post/buildingalifeofhope.com/431. As with all found work, much has been transformed or changed. Yoga  has been a tremendous gift to me on endless levels with-I expect- more to come. 

 

 

False Self/True Self

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Image courtesy of: http://studiomuku.com/works/red-warrior-woman-painting

 

Don’t try too hard to prove yourself

Your posturing will become a self-fulfilling prophecy

Others will notice your overt preening,

that missed aim at pleasing.

The past is just that

Remove the emotion

Remain steel-eyed and unbroken

The moment is small

 It will not be your downfall

  The Warrior Woman is

Herself

Most of all

Day 12: There will always be forces out there that stray into your path, obstacles that attempt to block your growth, ideas, and momentum. The challenge is to keep your head and not let your emotions rule or past experiences serve as the means of responding to them.

Mountains on My Mind

I dream of a woodland retreat.

A mountainous oasis.

Walking in the forest

Bathing in nature

as the green canopy of hardwood trees

sways and sings.

My boots help me find my way.

I pause and listen to a rushing stream.

As I  leap onto slippery and misshapen rocks,

I pray for balance.

I lean toward the outstretched hand of my son,

who seems to have danced on the water.

His fording is eased by the length of his body.

I long to be more limber and less awkward.

  My backpack hugs my body

I feel oddly at ease with its great weight.

 As I take deep, deep breaths,

I feel the tension slough off my body.

Can mountain air comfort you like a warm blanket?

The long granite beds replace the scrambled boulders.

Another summit

Another Celebration

We rest upon them and gaze into Infinity

At one with the Divine

 

Day 6: In 12 days I head north.  My spirit yearns for cooler altitudes and time with my tribe. The photo is from a hike to Camel’s Hump in Vermont that Emily and I completed. I have yet to write about that day!  One of the most mentally challenging in my life…

She Persists

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                                      Hamsa: The Hand of Fatima

   (courtesy of: http://mythologian.net/symbols-strength-extensive-list/)

 

You were whole along

Even when the weaponed words cut you

and hammered their hurt.

Tied you to the tracks

as the lumbering locomotive lurched towards you.

You defied the Damsel in Distress Delegations,

beating the drum to your own destiny.

Still today

You were pinpricked.

Blood bursting

unexpected spatter that landed on the floor and walls.

Faint whispers of long ago depositions

and ugliness attempted a resurgence.

Someone poisoned the well,

but you refused to drink.

You tended the wound

and sealed the leak.

Retained your Integrity

Reminded once again that you will not be broken by ugliness and ignorance.

 

Day 3: This day sort of wrote itself.  The details need not be regurgitated. I am grateful for the support I received and the beautiful reminder of who I am: a passionate woman who has a way with words and uses them well.

 

Be Wary

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Image Courtesy of: Medium

Be wary of rulers who subscribe to a tribe

Who believe an enemy is necessary to survive

Who lead with judgement and fear

instead of acceptance and love

Who use propositional truths as conversations

dominated by a privileged few

(men)

Who believe their perspective is most objective

on the true nature of things

Their profession is OPPRESSION

CONTEMPT and EXPLOITATION

They preside and decide the Deity you will abide

The call for authenticity is a sacred path to the common good

Highway to a Higher Self

The Kingdom Within- not Without

Neither Hell nor Heaven

    But only

The Universal Truth

(Can You Tell?)

 of what it means

to be Human

 

Day 2: Started before dawn, written during breaks at work, finalized just now. A collection of  my own thoughts, quotes from books I was reading,and snippets from podcasts, TED Talks, and NPR that I jotted down in my writer’s notebook.

Safe Places

 

Is home just a place to live?  Is it just a place where we feel most safe?  Is it a place that makes us feel most strong? Is it a feeling, a desire, to be our authentic self? My ultimate desire, my safest place-my querencia- is to be at or near the mountains. Walking in the woods. Pausing to listen to a rushing stream. Jumping rocks to cross to the other side. My backpack hugging my body. My boots helping me find my way. Time is suspended here. Distractions are few. Troubles fade. Hopes soar and the Divine presents itself.

Last summer, I completed my first solo day hike. I had not told anyone of my plans ahead of time. I told my sons the morning I was leaving. I knew the men in my life would try to discourage me, not because of my lack of ability but because of safety.  But jerks exist off the trail and the mountain was one I knew well, having climbed it twice before.

The hike is easy enough, with some hopping over stream beds and slight switchbacks. It doesn’t take long for the sounds of the parkway that cuts through the notch to dissipate. I remember the heaviness of the summer air that day. It didn’t take me long to work up a sweat. My legs easily climbed up and over tree roots. I stopped to pause now and then to take in the green canopy of hardwood trees. I took deep, deep breaths, grateful that the air I was taking in filled me with peace. Can mountain air comfort you like a warm blanket?

The higher I climbed, the more I felt the tension slough off my body. Each step made me feel lighter. I felt nothing but joy as I moved closer to the summit. With this mountain, you know you are getting closer. The sky comes into view above and the long granite slabs replace the dark dirt and fallen leaves on the trail.  Suddenly-it seemed- I reached the top. A long granite bed greeted me with views of four mountains in three directions. The ledges have steep dropoffs.  I gaze into infinity when I look below.

I am alone at the summit but not lonely. I am filled with wonder and awe as I am reminded of the love I have for these mountains. I leave the summit with a renewed strength and the affirmation that this is home.

Writing Spaces

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                   Image courtesy of: Video Blocks

The creative forces inside of me are driven by places and spaces which allow for both an unburdening of stresses and strains-a voiding of negative energies and blockages if you will- and a transformation, an expansion of all my thoughts and ideas into written form where I can express my best self. For me, the craft of writing has become a means by which I have shared parts of my life’s stories in the hopes of helping others as well as myself heal from past pain and challenges. It is through writing that I discovered the poet inside myself. It has also been a channel for venting my frustration at the current state of our nation and world-something that I never expected to write about in a public sphere.

Yet, every time I think of sitting down to write another post, I am stumped. I avoid. I complain. I yearn.  When I think of writing, I visual the small nook, that small corner with its long narrow table top desk that held the laptop in the small Craftsman farmhouse that overlooked the sweeping back yard which led to the stream and woods. The walls were robin’s egg blue and the floors a warm maple.

It was there in that limited space where I discovered a part of myself that I didn’t know existed.  During that time and in that space, I was at my most free even while laden with enormous responsibilities. I think it was the greater setting and the newer incarnation of my family that inspired me to write enormous amounts of material and carve out the time to do it.

Today I write and dream of carving out a newer space in a greater setting that is almost an anathema.  I dream of a woodland retreat. A mountainous oasis.  A place of optimal quiet interrupted only by natural sounds- not sirens and swarms of sedentary traffic. Today I set a new intention. A call for clarity of the mind and spirit.  A recreation of  my own creation.  A Writing Resurrection!