Hands and Hearts

Sometimes if I am paying attention, 

I catch sight of my Nanie hands 

A desert landscape vast and 

Freckled with nurturing kisses from nature

Changing without recollection

of what came before and it is here 

I remember 

Deep curiosity with sneaky eyes

catching glimpses like snapshots of my

grandmother's aging hands:

knitting large afghans effortlessly 

folded neatly on lap at rest and peace

reaching slightly when receiving affection

Weathered like leather, year after year 

they spoke of risk and adventure

deep trenches and uneven terrain 

Striving still with grace and purpose

And now I have found my own hands

Softly shaping skin into dunes resting 

Incomplete without intentional fault lines 

tracking back to random grooves,

scars serving as guideposts for a life lived

Carried by hands 

Stored in hearts 

Broadcasted on faces 

Illuminated through feelings

What do you see when you 

look at your hands?

Where has your journey

carried you?

How will you use them

to find new spaces?

Who will you let hold

them when you need it?

Why does any of this

mean anything?

The answers are written on hands 

Like an existential map book

Traveling by way of our hearts.

Tuesday Haiku

Busyness shows up

Stress invites meditation,

Everything softens 

Process

Pause

Observe

Name

FEEL

Reality 

is not always

what's real.

Seeking round

holes

unaware

that our edges

are sharp

and moving

about space

without caution

AND

we can soften

we can bleed

when we concede

each moment

to the breath

and the anchor

of truth

change 

definitely

feels 

some 

kind of

way

safe

to 

say

have
it
your
way

a
new
day

is it pain

or disdain

a refrain

to stay sane

time to 

dance in the 

rain

wash ourselves

clean with 

kaleidoscope

truth

and crystallized

proof

becoming

more comfortable

with discomfort

until we can 

hold it all 

united we stand

when we understand

divided we fall

when we miss the call

The Lotus

Stagnantly sitting outside of my core

Vulnerability arrives and opens a door

Breathing in this

Magnitude, 

My dullness inspired,

An urge to learn more

Clarity is conjured:

A lotus flower vision

complexity and precision

When a mind truly yearns,

It is the heart that learns

"the lotus is a

sacred flower,

symbolizing cosmic

harmony"

Exhaling out this

fortitude

Awash in alignment

Insight begins to show

What else is there to know to grow?

Currently steeping

in undeniable truth

the lotus flower rests,

a floater of proof

"give the lotus as much

light as possible"

Purposefully

elevating voices 

and choices

My beauty

my lightness

my grace and

my power 

Sits at the surface

Atop the white ivory tower

Averse to recognize

The sticky resistance 

lurking beneath-

It quells, 

It repels

It ultimately sells

And yet something...

Something.

Something.... is missing?

No, there is no evidence of lack
Over-abundance bred privilege

 Under-awareness and slack 

Why is it we overly pour

our own estimations 

of the overly poor?

"too much fertilizer

may cause the lotus

foliage to burn"

We are all one lotus

Separating our superiority 

from the root's work and pain

With refute and disdain,

Beautiful hues slip out of the frame

 I am reminded of my truest

intention:"right speech"
Living to teach 

Meaning to reach 

Prevention

Detention

That which 

We should not

Mention

Suspension supports Invention

Propension for Intention

We are all one lotus

Heart Flexes

Mind Pounds

Reactions ripple like pond pebbles

  Or a ringing in the ear

Blocking out slurs from

those I hold dear

Why, why, why all the fear?

I open 

I close

We are all one lotus

"the lotus is associated

with the sun because

it blooms by day,

and closes by night"

Awakening,

I cry 

Feeling, 

I bleed

I am not a rose

Yet these thorns

upon me, wishing to feed

We are all one lotus

The hollow ache 

in my center feels  

 woeful and misunderstood-

I see you, I love you

I honor your good.

"Care must be taken

when inserting

fertilizer tabs, 

because the growing

tip and new growth

can be damaged"

My messages lost 

mistaken, unseen

I close again

 preserving

unliked and unclean

"lotuses started

from seeds will

probably not bloom

the first year"

Listening closely, please tell me you hear?

We must hold on

together... 

Beauty

grows near

Being patient with the slow

Believing bravely we will know

The wisdom is singing up from below

This is how we too shall grow 

We are all one lotus

Rising up from the deep 

Aged suffering

Mischaracterized as cahoots 

Reach down far enough,

We will feel our own roots

"It is important

to protect the 

lotus roots

from freezing"

Leaves and petals

dance with delight

buoyancy supported and white

derived out of muddiness 

Darkness emboldened by night 

"the lotus

is even believed

to have given 

birth to the sun"

When darkness subsides

Our hearts blessed with new sight

Healing our blindness

We are filled with the light 

We are all one lotus

The Sounds of Weightlessness

Rhododendrons reveal

whiteness, 

while

sun cascades 

clipping and casting

shadows on suburban

homes and dreams

And birds flit

faster 

it seems these

days,

louder too.

Can they

see it all? 

Can they

hear it all?

Better still,

can WE?

The panic

The injustice

The illness

The void

The meaning

Do they carry 

messages to one

another 

wondering,

purposefully

plotting

how to get us to 

not just notice

this, 

but also

to vote on this?

Can we hear it?

The invisibility

cloak 

of privilege

and pride

serves as a

weighted blanket

for some,

therapeutically

quelling

discomfort

lullabying

that there is

"nothing more

to be done here"

After all,

'it's just awful'

and 

'such 

a shame'

Clucks of

the tongue

team up with

disgusted

shakes of

the head
clearing space 

so folks can 

get back in

line at 

home

depot 

for potted

plants and 

grass seed

and I wonder

what's the most

important thing

to grow?

And the 

birds hang

out in the 

garden center

too, you know

they see it all
and 

their chatter 
is everywhere
for those who
truly listen

I'd like

to think

they're all

abuzz 

about the 

phoenix

rising up in

the streets

Aware

that enough 

is finally 

enough 

and the 

time to pivot

and shift 

has arrived

we can all learn to 
fly 

yet, the terror

that paralyzes

those who

have been long 

served through 

flowers, blankets

now stand

naked, afraid

But this, my friends

is how we are born.

And it

also how

we will 

be born 

again:

weightless

I am Peace.

As I walk into
my meditation
I imagine myself
opening a door to
peace
and visualize
being able to
step inside
where I will feel it
warm and glowing
like a magic tunnel
a place that will protect
me from suffering
transporting me
away and separate

Sinking deeper
into practice
I lose my grip,
Chaos rushes
in the form of
thought
doubt
pain
fear

I grasp
as if
feeling for the
walls of
my peace portal
to bolster me
so that I may
define myself
in space...
only to
find expansiveness
and myself
and the discomfort
gnaws

Naming it:
"discomfort"
"attachment"
I am honoring
these
sensations
emotions
with awareness
and a gentle
invitation to
stay

Returning
to the breath
to anchor,
the discomfort
slips past
the attachment
loosens
the need
for containment
transforms

Suddenly
a revelatory
knowing arrives
and it seems
to have
originated
within
Not from
the mind
or
the ego

Deeper

It surfaces
and
a smile
subtly
sneaks
allowing me
to relish
in a knowingness

that heals
that reveals
that in
recognizing...seals

Opening
my eyes
I tell myself:

I

Am

Peace.

And for
today,
I know this
to be true.

Namaste.

Architect of Connection

Big feelings bloomed in snark and noise

Mutual righteousness adorned each side

Until a sudden "freeze out", silence

Naked emotion stuck, nowhere to hide

Letters were shared bravely bedside

Writing for healing stings as it goes

Vulnerability bled messy into margins

No response-never-exposed once more

Self-doubt and fear growing up in gardens

This is the way a heart hardens

Anxious tendrils, vines of confusion

Emotional neglect quietly worked to rewire

Then an abrupt melting, occurred sans science

First hold ice cubes, next fan the fire

You began to feel like a fraudulent liar

Ego dystonic thoughts without any space

A landscape rife for numbing then shame

"If you plant ice, you're gonna harvest wind" 

Lyrics that danced for decades inside a mental frame

Wondering… will I always feel the same?

Breath that defines life from death 

Gave new hope for inhaling inside of truth

Anchored to the pause, feel it and know

I am whole, connected, this exhale my proof

Mindfulness safeguards from acting aloof

I am not my mother

I am not my father

I was never left behind

Because

I am not my feelings

I am not my thoughts

I do not need to rewind

Because

I am not my own mind

I can choose to remind

Love and wisdom interplay in light

Serving me, healing me with protection

I was never really frozen solid, rather 

Learning to be an architect of connection

THIS is what I see in my reflection.

masterpiece

water color paintings 

birthed 

through streaky

ribbons

wet and bright,

a mess of hues

led to completion

through a journey

of liquid squirming

and spreading

directionless

tints and tones

erratically

searching

the primal effort 

to take up space

all of it 

happening

whether we choose

to acknowledge or not

reminding me of feelings

and their pursuit for

peace,

demanding their proper

place

because they

were created 

to know their purpose:

to roam and leak out

filling in the corners

and mixing about

shapes inside of

insight contained

with madness

and brilliance

until they settle

and make sense

becoming beautiful

productions

the ability

to allow is

hardwired into

all of us so we

learn what is real

learn how to feel

learn where to know

learn when to grow

learn why we go

we are all feelings artists

take a deep breath

and cultivate your

process before the

palette dries out

each day

is a new brush

each feeling

a new stroke

let it flow

curate your collection

do the work 

and let it soak

your life is your

finest masterpiece

acceptance and spring

acceptance smells like lilacs

resistance reeks of mold

inhaling spring's sweet messages

avoiding doom bought and sold

the space we give to nature

to change to bend and sway

loans an understanding:

things won't always be this way

winged messages inside the trees

continue to be shared

trust the branches to hold weight

trust we will be spared

faith, belief, grief and loss

teach us how to reframe

guarding us from toxic leaks

empathy cancels out shame

the collective truth of seasons

an antidote for the stressed

notice the center of the flower

beating inside our chest

connection cannot be contained

inside of posts and zooms

be it a place holder for connection

like a bear's winter den rooms

improvise adapt overcome

our power to rise up is now

look out the window with wonder

understand we all know how

walk with this message today:

pain is immediate, sensory and real

notice without getting carried away

prevent suffering, allowing to heal

ringing in our ears like bells

is a prompt to lean into it all 

the wisdom fluttering around us, 

heed a new sounding call 

answer it

answer it

 answer it 

now

Differences

Pandemic Day 3,245. Or whatever.

In the good ole' days, in an actual school classroom:

Solid engagement/comprehension that slips into a loss of focus -> 

"Okay class, let's break into small groups and review"

Blank stares/confused expressions -> 

"Alright guys, no worries, let me back it up a bit"

Silliness and distraction -> 

"Hey everyone, stand up- let's take a movement break, and do a quick check-in"

Today:

Zoom -> "No I don't want to see your mom's room...it's a good idea to put a shirt on...okay, friends- let's do a review of...nope, I MEANT to mute you all...let's just all try to hang in and listen super quick...no I don't know why so and so isn't here again...yes, I hope they're okay too..."

*SIGH*

THIS IS NOT EDUCATION.

Take a wider lens. It's not too late....

Sunlight meditation

Enjoy this children's meditation I created. May it bring you some peace and warmth.

Gifts and Chances

Truth whispered to me during dinner
Hiding inside family laughter
It rattled inside my heart and soul
And has remained with me long after

It's a gift
It's a gift
It's a gift

to behold

It's a chance
It's a chance
It's a chance

to be bold

Our stories and our shared struggles
Grief making way for smiles
Making space and time to feel
Relationships across miles

This energy fuels new lessons
Transformations and insight
Post traumatic *growth*, more common
Managing stress leads to what's bright

Consider how we view education-
Is it about tests, lessons, or now zoom?
Information dumped inside of brains
Little robots inside a classroom?

Or can we find the wider lens
To examine things we must strain to see
Inflections in tone, side glances and hugs
Regulating forces...ultimately

Invite actions that support coping right now
Take moments to grieve and to fuss
No one is perfect, that's not even fair
And extends to each one of us

But beyond this, I will not stop spreading
A message of light and of hope
Just stay in the moment and you'll find it too
When you shower, really inhale the soap

My family is slowly healing
From invisible wounds unknown
Laughter, projects, discourse, chatter
A new tapestry of love we have sewn

And I worry about the narrative
the "don't worry, it all sucks, just be lame"
and while I hesitate to share my words
I'm not sorry that I don't feel the same

There are heroes that need our honor
Medical and emergency crews
Lesser educated blue collar workers
While we sit home watching the news

Tomorrow is not a given
This pandemic is clear to point out
Today is what we have with each other
So let's flip the teachings inside out

No more lessons or chromebooks
Read stories, play and create
Be lazy and cozy and sad if you need
Then take stock of what's on your plate

Our essential being-ness is here
There is nothing more that we need
Climb out of the story you've been telling
And see you've already been freed.

It's a gift
It's a gift
It's a gift

So behold

It's a chance
It's a chance
It's a chance

So be bold

Mindful Showers and Stuff

Mindful showers bring
Awareness of pure pleasure
We still have so much

The land of in between

There is a relational landscape
that exists in purely
The land of in between

Is the appeal of the beach
trapped inside a frame?

A photo of the sand,
a painting of the water or
a soundscape of waves crashing?

No

Our love of the beach
comes from our
own individual interpretations
of those things-
the interchange that occurs
when our being-ness
and the being-ness
of these things
come together and
actually meet

There is a certain magic
that is awakened within
when infinite particles of sand
Bleed into the vulnerable spaces
between our toes
inviting us to sink into
warm and uneven flooring,
Surrendering and giving
way to our feet and then minds
and we honor this exchange
as both unusual and seductive

We lean into this and decide:
"I like this"

(And in some cases,
"I dislike this",
and that's okay too)

We witness ocean waves
crashing recklessly
carelessly blending
into the shoreline aching
for contact with more,
Is it trying to access us?

Of course

And then suddenly
a conscious retreat
to rebuild and try again
Swelling and seeking connection
with everything in varying
degrees of intensity and charm

Always folding into
that which falls....next

A beginning and end
a presence
where this is simultaneously
understood and undefined

Inside of our breath,
we find the same process-
An inhalation that serves
and then yields,
giving way to that
which comes next.

Waves and breath
work together to
anchor us
to the awareness
of letting go into the
now

Reminding:

impermanence
creation
destruction
chaos....

....Calm

always the calm.

Currently
we cannot hear the ocean
we cannot feel the sand
we cannot see the patterns
we cannot smell the surf
we cannot taste the salt

We are deprived of praxis

Delving down we can tug
a bit to locate the anchor
and pulling ever so slightly
our knowing will appear

Breathing in and following
it all the way to the end
We will find on the other
side of the breath

Individual and collective
awareness, greater

The earth is meditating
for our benefit and offering
a sedimentary shift

Step into the marrow
and wade around with
what is evident

Access this inner knowing
and return to the beach
to swim, to sift, to soar,
and to shine.

It's all here. Now.

An open letter to my graduating senior

Dear Ezra,

Graduation has finally appeared on your horizon... and here we are, all inside. It's interesting that I notice a growing awareness of my womb lately. It feels heavy and full, with a low lying sense of aching as well. It resembles a kind of knowing, that includes remembering too. For this my son, is quite like how I felt mere months before you were born. It is imprinted on my heart forever, the day that 9/11 occurred, holding my large belly, wanting to keep you inside and safe forever. When suddenly love and protection did not feel enough. I recall in that aftermath, my heart giving way to profound feelings of fear and a guilty sense that I was somehow exposing you to a toxic new world. I felt irresponsible and the world felt collectively afraid. Planes were grounded, trust was elusive, and I was about to become a mother somehow...inside of it all.

And yet, I recall being struck by small things in those days too, just like now. Things I had previously taken for granted. Things that seemed to not take heed of the darkness that weighed heavy on hearts and minds and paralyzed us all. I noticed the birds and the sun and the sky, mostly. Because in spite of all that was being processed, the sun still rose and set and the birds still sang and the sky still painted pictures for us. And they were beautiful. And I believe part of my healing was allowing myself to feel into those things again. It was these small, grand things that allowed me to be whole enough to bring you forth, 42 days later. Eventually there was a connectedness that came out of that time as well, and it served as a soft landing spot for us all.

It was during this darkness that I found your light. My midwife spoke to me of "la luz" during your delivery. She coached me hard, telling me to envision pulling you up into "la luz" (the light) and to bear down into this and to really see it and feel it and imagine you seeking this too, and moving towards this...and I did. And well, this is how you came to be. You rose up strong and healthy and into great light. And in my heart I had this sense you would not only live a great life, but that you would be great. And I was not wrong.

The sunset delivers this truth and more, to me this morning as I write. Following a month of quarantine, with your senior year slipping fast and loose through your hands, you asked to go see the sunrise this morning. You told me that you created a plan with your friends, that fit within the boundaries that this new world has enforced upon you. You requested to drive, all in separate cars, to a scenic ocean spot, and side by side in your vehicles...you would all consume the sunrise. Together. And apart.

Of course I granted this to you. Of course.

To me, this is both heartbreaking and inspiring all in the same breath. You should be heading to school, to lacrosse practice, to awards nights, to your girlfriend's house, to the basketball court. Instead, after you finish taking in our divine mother earth, doing what she so beautifully does, you will return home. Alone, you will enter your room to turn on your chrome book and finish your school career. My heart is heavy and solemnly sad, and also incredibly proud. All at the same time.

Safe at home, not stuck at home. I have reframed this infinite times to cope in these last several days. To attempt to shape a more helpful lens through which we can all make sense of this. And it does help, usually. But today, I saw that same sunrise you made all your own and felt hopeful. I thought of the day before today too-when cloud cover made it so that there were no rays shining through to start the day. Overcast skies prevented the color palette from bleeding a water color painting onto the sky. The pinks and oranges of today, slowly curling upward, filling the sky were not the scene yesterday. But does this mean it was stuck? No. Of course not. It was still there, safely rising. Just like you.

You are not stuck. None of us are. My pride comes in your deep knowing. I see you managing and navigating this and while you have feelings, you have a knowing inside of you that understands this. Your wisdom understands that you are light. We are all light. This darkness will make way for us to rise up again, and the birds will be there to sing about it. Thank you my son, for reminding me that they are singing about it right now too.

Thank you for teaching me that we are not stuck and our sunrise will come again.

Love,

Mum