Everything is dripping
She thinks
Even crafts half created
hang from driftwood
Tied to dirty windows
Sunlight dangling
In wait,
No modesty
In that which she despises
Inspired by what is not hers
Loses luster
Dented with lament
This moment with this
Shitty piece
Hyperfixated on
What it is not
Thoughts of
What else is not
Stick themselves here too
Art,
Like a fart
She cannot
Will it to pass
But still, there is discomfort
The ruckus that rattles inside my mind
Hiding from a center I cannot find
I fidget and fixate
Distracted, then I ruminate
Until a new question arrives:
Is it this that which I must illuminate?
Perhaps there is a power here
A truth-telling to make it all clear
Injustice abounding everywhere we look
Complicit inaction leaves us shook
Another consideration:
Do I need to write a book?
Intentional with the pause, I dwell in hope
Great potential warms the pools of this trope
Elements of a bridge assembling soon
Working covertly, under the light of the moon
The wisest action now:
Listen...for the tune of the rune.
When the cataclysmic chaos of today
Breaks your heart into a myriad of pieces
You cannot bend over to retrieve
Because the walls loom larger
Moving in fast, there's no reprieve.
Lost in the weeds,
Anxiety breeds
Something that can be sure:
Open your own divine door.
Squeezed in between
What is obvious and unseen-
Newfound nonsense, daily doing and
Absurdity realized
Surreal stickiness inside of purpose paralyzed
Inaction can be an
Act of Resistance
(When applied with Intention)
Habit is a creative invention
With permission to unplug, undo, slow down....
STOP.
Long enough to feel, to look, to see, to know
What is most wholesome, what is truly Wise
Hatefulness and Haste, alignment's demise
I get it, I know, this is a lot, like WHOA,
Spinning wheels in a muck of nowhere to go
We must remember our Divine Doorway
Waiting to be found
Hand on heart, space in the mind
It is here that we enter,
It is here that we ground
Breathing in, we find our strength
Breathing out, we release fear
Breathing in, we conjure access
Breathing out, we're already here
This doorway offers us a place to rest
To ponder hope, before the next test
On the other side of the breath
The opening, a clear walk-through
Stepping into your own vastness
You can reclaim your real "you"
Liquified walls, we swim through pain
Suffering is only part of existence
In our True Nature, we learn to contain
Waves of what does not serve you
Waves of what does not serve them
Pause now, right now-
BREATHE
1.....2.....3.......
Turn off the tsunami of thoughts,
Then pick up your own pen.
Telling your own truth,
All a brush-stroked story.
When again, you lose your way
Find your doorway back to glory
Signage marked: "It will be okay"
Just keep going
Just keep growing
Just keeping knowing
The mighty breath whispering the password
To the Divine Door,
This is where we go to
To remember there is always more
Pardon me, while I invite you to stare at all the mouths for a while...weird teeth and double chins and lips that curl when they smile, like they're advertising orthodontics or toothpaste and the birds are reminders too. Watch them when you walk-maybe you'll see a bird drop out of nowhere, off a branch suddenly materialized and cast off into a beak first nosedive. You'll gasp, imagining a near definite disaster, gravity's grip is just so fierce, until suddenly the wings support the landing and when you see it, you smile. Because, now, you get it-we aren't birds, but goddamnit we have WINGS, we can find our glide, sure as the sunset finds it skyline, and then walking on, more discovery takes hold. Houses tucked aways, eyes unearthing them like they were never there before, except they certainly were. Just not seen. Your eyes awakened new, you may laugh with the lady passing by on the bike in your moment of close contact, and then inhale deeply the wake of her perfume that somehow reminds you of the color purple. You will come upon a delightful older man tending watchfully to his beautiful arrangement of spring blooms- hands on hips a sense of satisfaction in his stance that can only be enhanced by the admiration of a passerby. So you'll play this role and tell him "how beautiful!" and he will absolutely light up and say "how kind of you to say" and when you return to your own humble abode, sweaty and tired, you'll pause a bit more to the evening events of your neighborhood's nature channel, a plumpy cardinal will visit and as you process full body chills, you will know that all of this is just ethereal confirmation of the sublime. You will know that the line between right and wrong, masks and vaccines, all of it, will remind you that the line between good and evil is not as blurry as you feel. It's all to be found in the here and now, in the sun you squint back, in the daring to feel. That is what I invite you to see, as real.
<Notes scrawled in a journal on June 4, 2021>
The forgetting and remembering
Are braided so tightly
It leaves deep angsty grooves
In the mind and in the body
Tension that True Nature wishes to relax,
Over-efforting fails to smooth out
Mental creases
Until the sitting occurs
And it is not immediate or pretty
Inner chatter broadcasts in the brain
Physical form attuned, shifted
Opening the eyes, then sighs
Making notations belies what is wise
Attachment, Aversion, Delusion-
Three poisons dripping all over everything
How to deny consumption?
With each breath, return to the path
The exhalation allows release
Dismissing imperfections like this
The inhalation welcomes awareness
Including what is not amiss
Right here
Right now
Is only
This moment
Come back to practice
Over and over; and over again still-
Remember what has been forgotten
The braid hangs loose, at will
Shame slips in, hooded in the cover of darkness
Insidious, it begins its work, undetected until
A landslide leaves you, stunned suffocation-
Shock is a sneaky way to rewrite a story
And while you begin the work of removing
Heavy narratives and half truths, breathlessly swimming
Inside a thickness of what you've been told is yours
The poet has opined as much (in prior drivel)
Then stopping to sit, a rare shaft of light
Brightens what has yet to be considered
And sudden expansion replicates-
You write lines that move and hold true
How shameful to be pulled
So far
(Society’s collar and leash)
From the fraught moments of childbirth
A baby then breastfed
Warmed by more than milk-
(A nourishment inherent in this pause)
Sacred
Bathing in retrospective sweetness
The miraculousness of a milestone
Met and forgotten
(Frivolously filed away, a new day)
New strangers dressed up as years
(Wedged and hardened, sticky)
Bloated rings, an overgrown Elm
Brittle bark flakes, reveals and conceals-
(An easily contained ecosystem)
Lurking beneath the surface
Insidious and darling, all of it
Recently someone asks what it actually means
"to do the work"
Appreciation for candor and demands to simplify abstractions
Yet leaning into it, and making space for what comes up
is indeed the work
When a bird appears outside the window, may we find the ability
to pause.
May we untangle ourselves from the frenetic pace of doing
to observe.
May we allow it to be there in all it's bird-ness
to get curious.
Most especially if it's a crow or a blue jay-
May we examine what is happening
on the walls of our interior world
May we see magic, matching exterior decor
Warning: it may feel yucky...stay with it
Sink deeper still.
May something soar through:
A memory
A realization
A connection
Swimming in liquid metal, insight pools
Permanent welding to this discomfort, not a chance
Marinating does not breed pain
Rather raises it for illumination, new spotlight:
Truth.
Clear seeing, leading to wise understanding
leading to acceptance, leading to release.
May you watch the bird's wings as it flies away-
You've done the work.
Keep going...
Electric liquid pools in wrists and hands
Activated by a heart being noticed
Autopilot mode's power cut off
Mindfulness floods in hot and fiery
Gentle care like cotton fleece
Supports the work of becoming aware
A breath the cushion for a hazy stare
The push to determine next steps
Shouting callously from somewhere
To be here now
Is all that it is fair
"Space"
Amanda C. Symmes, LICSW
Sitting down with the feelings today
No knocking needed- just come on in
and join me for a cup of tea
(or whatever you'd like to sip on)
Then spill it -
Tell me what I need to know right now,
Why are you here?
Resentment, you can talk first,
You've been
awfully loud lately...
what gives?
PAUSE
Ohhhhh, what an interesting shade
of excrement you are
Sitting quietly with you
here and acutely mulling over-
your role
purpose
message
You fizz into everything I do lately
Your rancid stench is strong and refuses
dissipation
I'll find what's rotting, to free you
What's that?
Your near enemies are stress and frustration?
And since they've been improperly cared for
you had to step in?
Welcome
I am ready to listen
Breathing leads to seeing leads to hearing leads to healing
You say your far enemies are
autonomy and space?
Why YES. Of course they are.
Okay, I see you
I appreciate this offering
Breathing in, I make space for all of it
And your message
seems tangled up in
something else?
Who is that hiding
behind you?
Why are they holding your
hand?
Come in, come in
Share your tea with me, please.
Ohhh, there you are Fear.
I almost didn't recognize you.
Perhaps, I neglect to actually look at you mostly,
it is simply too much to hold
but seeing you hold resentment's hand
I feel less afraid.
I see you in yourself.
You come in so many colors-heavy and expansive
The gradience of gray
comes alive now, majestically
Purple and emerald are
fused here twisting around inside as well
My chest tightens only briefly at
at the thought of letting you stay
But in your other hand I see
your tea you clutch is trembling as you
seek your own release from me
It's not the other way around
Has it been this way all along?
I wasn't paying attention Fear
and I am sorry for that
You are obtuse and seeing all
the dangers ahead is your job
and it can serve me if I listen with wisdom
and discern well
Rather, in my rejection of you
you've become caged here
with me
Each of us stuck holding the key for the other
So while resentment has stepped to the side
It waits for you and I
to do our thing...
Inhale, Exhale, Release
Oh how beautiful
Your tea is gone and we've
pulled ourselves together
You are not shaking and
foreboding at all
You are a magnificent swirling
energetic light
Pure power and potential
When I see you as this
you only become more
precious and beautiful
and like a ribbon or an aurora
You call for me to trust
Encircling me in electricity, fueling me with newness-
Faith
Each of us, drawing energy from the other,
we gain strength to move on
Your near enemy may be worry,
But your far enemy is the bravery that I need right now
I had no idea that looking just a bit closer and holding myself still here,
That I would find you...
What is coming next, I do not know
How wondrous to not get to know!?
Relief whispers that our path has not ended yet
We dodged the temptation to shove
ourselves onto the highway
of "expected next steps"
for a quick trip to nowhere good
Continuing this slow journey
With caution-
This terrain is less traversed
So the perils that lurk can hurt, at times
These messengers that dropped in for tea
Remind
to give mind to all of it
They were never trying to take up residence
In fact they have already alerted the
more important guests to arrive
Soon
They just sought time tea for tea
With me
To spill into this space together
Now that I feel them
slipping out the door
I am content in my home with Space.
Staring out the open window,
the thought returns-
the urgency grows as it clings and
contains
the etiology of the question
remains
Information is given,
not as a gift to behold
rather a burden or curse
a game of hot potato
and what is deemed worse
and while it's tempting
to go for the low hanging
fruit:
past crimes
improprieties
anecdotal encounters
that reside
in slime
it has not gone there
-yet
you must be curious why?
perhaps you won't wonder
forever because
the real truth
stands up for itself
while you hide under
cloaks and with shields-
a new narrative
wrapped inside of
a subversive spin
through media
mitigating your loss
stealing truth for itself
can only happen for
so long
for the authentic Truth
resides comfortably
inside of itself
waiting for reality's
light to shine brightly
and illuminate all that
is right
so as I brace myself
for your next pointed
assault
on character, calculated
printed and broadcast
with tools only ever
intended to harm
I know we will be safe
Seeing the storm for
what it is-
I see the way the trees
bend and give way
withstanding the weight
of what threatens-
and allows
This intensity
is temporary and
the strength of the trees
stands for itself
as do we, rooted
in all that is sacred
because love and kindness heal
and whilst under this brutal attack
it will remind us what is real
scrutinizing the winds that bloat
shifting not with a lightness
but the option to float
because change must happen
now-
-and will,
regardless of your plan
I am blown back to thoughts
about the importance of our soul-
What dwells within yours?
A deep restorative breath
reminds me
truth lives here
in my lungs, home, heart
In my metta practice too
May you have goodness
to fill your soul and abate
May you have healing
to teach the soul to shed hate
May you have insight
to learn the soul determines fate
Please know, it's never too late
Today I watched the river
I heard a cadence of consistency-
A pulsing, a rushing acting with
Ardency perhaps and yet no,
It was actually nothing
like it at all, really
While the water moved in endless
urgency, it was I who saw it that way,
that was my story I was tossing
out and dressing it up with
Reckoning with this habit,
I noticed with clearer vision-
water approaching a large boulder
And it climbed itself along
its surface in smooth strength
until it couldn't any longer
The dimensions were just not
fitting any further for the flow
to pass over
And the current was forced
to split itself in two
And as I watched this
endless process of
climbing and splitting and sliding
only to
careen away and fall much further
below
I thought to myself
It's right there, I know
A blissfully simple and yet exquisite bending
Just as there is no individual drop of water
in a river
There is no I in Self
It is the moon
It is the sun
It is the earth
And sky blending
the water and us
straight into one
Today,
watching the river,
this was what I saw.
Clinging to "the and" has brought relief
Equanimity, as waves smash the reef
Yet is there something solid to be found?
The landscape shifts and roots re-ground
Poison bleeds into the layers unseen
Breathless pain when things get mean
Certainty does not dwell, in or out
Will not assuage massive doubt
What is being sought, subtly shifting
A landscape in flux, flightless drifting
Keep on moving, forward and know
This is how we are meant to grow
Making sense of what has transpired is like
Counting drops of liquid in a cup
Life comes and goes, ebbs and flows
I ascribe meaning on top of all of it
And these stories often hinder my truth
What is it I see when I open my eyes?
What is it I see when I close them?
Closing them is key
Scary as it may be
Sitting with the muck I see myself
an actor with roles in stories and events
makeup and costumes and automatic lines
retorts and expressions memorized, leading me
to more of the same, an endless game
Staying with it, I ride the breath to
a new horizon where True Nature rests
and I see I can come home to myself
Whenever I wish, right here in this
breath and in this moment
I make a choice to put down attachments
and allow ideas and limiting beliefs to rest
no, this is not some sort of existential test
rather, a lovely invitation to be lovely
and to see the lovely and in the lovely
Scanning the senses with gleeful curiosity
I hear birds chatter and find melody that delights
I see the clouds' quick moves and feel hopefulness for change
I feel wind like a cosmic breath and know I am connected
I smell trees nutty freshness and sense timeless rooting
I taste the fruit with new lips and miracles abound
There is so much more, always happening
I can continue to sink deeper into all of it
I will commit to understanding beyond
that which my intellect can have power over
So that I may evolve and grow new wisdom
And peace and gratitude will flow creating
space for power between, uplifting the unseen
I will sit in solitude and know
Birds in bushes bristle and burrow
But resist dwelling in sorrow
Taking flight into tomorrow
Music is a language from beyond
and if our people are using this
with wise intention
we must heed the call of musing
hold the meaning in the moment
with aligned action we must leave
the bush and fly too
Feel it and know
Be with it and go
I am thinking of you (and Nanie) on your birthday, Grampie. And I think this has meaning beyond the calendar
Yesterday, on the eve of your 101st birthday I took a walk. I was a bit distracted with follow up for work and not really paying attention to my experience or surroundings. I had finally just put my phone away and decided to mindfully enjoy the rest of my rail trail stroll, when a bird came blazing straight toward my face. It was brilliant and red of course when it veered off into the tree next to me, I confirmed it was a Cardinal. And then I thought of you Grampie. When I see Cardinals I always do. Then, I remembered it was the day before your birthday, and smiled until a rustling grabbed my attention, sort of like Nanie might do, "Ummm, hello? I'm over here?" And there, I spotted your female mate perched nearby, slightly above and more settled in a regal sort of way. Of course. Hi guys! I marinated in this moment full of peace and contentment and a feeling of certainty I was with you both.
Today, on your birthday, as I dropped Remy off at my sister's house to do her remote learning, I stepped out of the car while still groggy and a red blur whizzed past, waking me up fast. Yes, it was another male Cardinal, patiently waiting for me to take notice. And so I did. I promptly shared it with Remy, reminding her of his birthday and then Marley and then Meghan too. Once we had all had a glimpse they were off again. Happy Birthday indeed.
Cardinals are not entirely uncommon, I realize this. And yet there is significance here. Nanie loved them. She had pins and mugs and wall hangings and all sorts of other doo-dads. I regret not ever talking to her about where this fondness originated, but after she died it was evident in a more pronounced way and I recall keeping a few things to remember her by with this special symbol. Years later, when it your time to pass Grampie, you were truly so ready. It was hard saying goodbye but also so deeply moving to see a life so complete. You had missed Nanie dearly (I can imagine you saying it just this way) and it was time to move on.
Grampie, you were pragmatic as hell, and I remember accompanying my dad after to collect the attire for the wake, only to learn that YOU HAD SELECTED IT for yourself much prior. You it hanging just so, and it was specified elsewhere that this would be the outfit. When I saw it, I immediately began crying. Grampie you were well known for your penchant for plaid on plaid and bolo ties. I loved these bolo ties and felt proud of your unique style. On this occasion it was the bolo tie that called out to me. It almost flew to my eyes, much like my Cardinal sightings these last few days. It was a cardinal on your bolo tie. I had NEVER seen this one before. I asked my dad about it and he said "Well that makes sense. My mother loved cardinals."
Grampie, you are incredible. You dressed up to meet your mate again, just as I had thought...You wanted to make her happy.
Cardinals are always found in pairs. My grandparents were a pair unbroken through death and I believe to be reunited in peace. I enjoy believing it's them that I spot Cardinals and to be honest, it is always in moments of significance (if I am paying attention and reflective enough to see the connection or the offering of support).
In fact, I will never forget pulling into the parking lot on the day of my interview for the school I currently serve. The position felt truly special for some reason and I was hopeful I would be found as the right fit. As I drove in with nervousness and hope, a beautiful Cardinal swooped right across my windshield and my nerves lifted away with the birds. I said thank you. And I got the job. And I said thank you again.
Yesterday and today's sightings are reminders that there is always more. No feeling is final, and ultimately our lives are not final. We live on in energy and gratitude and hope and truth and in faces and characteristics and big moments and challenge and memories and inspiration and change. We cycle through these things and in one another over and over and over. On this day, I am grateful to have come to truly know that to live on this way is to never truly die. Thank you to the Cardinals for these lessons.
Happy Birthday Grampie. We miss you and Nanie. Thanks for the wisdom.
snow on tree branches calls out
clinging yet without extending effort
bouncing with a weight defying measure
and in this simple act of being
I am seeing my mind
unfettered and free,
aware of the path and my ability
to return each time attachment
and longing pulls me into ego traps-
the paralysis stumps me
the seeing mind trumps me
the being mind waits for me
suddenly the smallest of gusts
arrives and clears several branches
and a silent and serene storm sways
into morning's first light and as these
tiny delights awaken me, I think
"Oh my goodness I get to see this-
Everyone, LOOK!"
and the truth is we all get to see
we can really see it so much that
these moments of insight tuck right
inside of us forever-
dwelling within, helping to soften
all that feels daunting and terrible
into a more balanced world
one that invites us to witness
the wonder and the joy
please sit and look at the branches
and tell me something different
