I found this writing on stillness within my journal notes from 2011. To think I’ve been on this train since then…
Stillness is the ground of being from which all else emerges.
It is within and behind every breath, every thought, every action.
It is my starting point, my resting place, the home base to which I can return again, and again.
In stillness I notice how time and space disappear.
All there is is the present moment and my willingness to listen …
To allow the stillness to speak.
The stillness takes me into a realm of conscious awareness
that transcends my identity as body or mind.
Stillness offers an experience of being
and a recognition that my being …
my essence …
is a part of all Being, all Essence.
– Meditation and Rituals of Conscious Living
Nancy J. Napier & Carolyn Tricomi
A month since my birthday.
The birth of this body, this time, this heart, this mind.
A time to celebrate.
A time to reflect.
A time for silliness.
Fingers, toes, legs, arms, all in place.
Skin taut and elastic (for now).
Heart wide open.
Mind even more expansive than yesterday.
Curiosity killed the cat, not quite yet.
Here’s to failing.
And failing again.
And failing one more time.
Continue reading “a month since”
I hold a cup of black tea in a Starbucks vintage mug; the tea is not their’s and tastes way better. There’s a chip on the cup. I should dispose of it but I chose not to.
I’m feeling a joyful glee in my heart cuz my partner returns home tomorrow. How four weeks has fast forward and slowed down all at once. I recall his warm soft lips and how they just fit mine.
I sit still as the sun beams down on my skin. It’s warm with a cool breeze reminding us winter is around the corner. The critical mind tells me to pull away (wrinkles, remember), but I don’t. Fly kisses from the sun reach the smile spreading across my cheeks.
I’m wondering if this is what they mean by “bliss”. This moment. On my own.
That hop-skip-and-a-jump feeling, that “skip to my lou my darling” pep to the step.
I try not to choke it; surrendering is a joy ride.
Fly kisses to the sun and back.
“The clock of life is wound but once
And no man has the power
To tell just when the hands will stop
At late or early hour
Now is the only time we own
Live, love, toil with a will
Don’t wait until tomorrow
For the clock may then be still.”
I am crying
over things that shouldn’t cause so many tears.
I am clutching
to things that everyone else can let go of so easily.
I am ripping
away at my own brain
because the darkness only hurts me more.
I am pushing
because my whole life that’s what I’ve been good at.
I am killing
myself over people
who wouldn’t do the same for me.
I am holding
back from the things that should help me succeed.
I am wandering
through broken pieces
that I shouldn’t have to put together in the first place.
I am over
I am so
Done by Iona Scott, Before There Were Bars, POPS The Club
Heavy foot, right left.
Trying to shrug it off.
Get over it, just do it.
Flashes of humiliation.
Two sides, one coin.
No one is right.
Yet it feels so real.
Get out there, get out of your head.
Do it over and over.
Fail and fail better.
I am visited by doubt.
I am visited by weight.
I am visited by the Ghost of Comparison, who rears its lion head.
Continue reading “slow motion”
You got an hour!
Like a prison alarm – BAAAAAAANG!
Sit and write.
Close that door and swallow the stillness whole.
Throw it back like you mean it.
Take it, it’s yours.
Cuz you know that Quiet creaks opens the magic door…
Where the Still Voice lives.
The Still Voice, you know the one
Like an echo of an echo that whispers, “What about me?”
What about that book?
What about that play?
What about that movie?
What about that job?