Tag Archives: poem a day

So Many Reasons to Celebrate

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So when I discover
that I have no real reason to stress
I also discover
that I have many reasons to celebrate.
I woke up this morning.
I sat in meditation, ate breakfast,
felt another cycle beginning
in my body…a time of release.
I taught yoga in the morning.
I taught again in the afternoon.
And I taught yet again in the evening.
I celebrated with colleagues,
I connected
even when the old scared part
told me to run away.
And when I took the curve too quickly
and even when my car began to skid
somehow, somehow
I was calm; I knew how to steer,
I stayed on the road,
and without missing a beat,
kept listening to my friend.
I came home to my children.
My car wasn’t wrapped around some tree
in the cold winter wood, in the dark night.
I’m in bed, freshly showered, warm,
comfortable, tired.
Yes.
I have many reasons to celebrate.

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No Stress

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And then it hit me—
not like a ton of bricks
but gently,
like an angel giving me a little love slap—
I really don’t have anything to stress about.
I have food
I have shelter
My children are safe and healthy
I have a family who loves me
and friends too
I am able-bodied, able-minded
with so many resources available to me
to craft a life in alignment
with my deepest soul desires.
What in the HELL am I stressing about,
really?
I put myself in hell and have wallowed in it,
only because things didn’t go the way
I thought they would.
Welcome to REAL LIFE, Lorien.
I’m ready to get over my damn self.
No more stress.

Remember the Inner Light

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Tired and low again today.
My fear is that this state
becomes my normal state,
that I cease to have hope,
that my resolve to change
crashes and burns.
I remember suddenly
that the solstice is in one week.
These are the darkest days of the year.
May I remember the inner light
as the world grows darker
and the nights longer.

Merry Christmas Anyway

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And then I realized
I was still waiting for approval somehow.
Was I crazy?
I’ve waited so long,
why am I still doing this to myself?
So I decided to stop waiting
for someone else’s approval
and work on gaining my own.
I discovered that I try so hard to be good
and in trying I forget how good I already am.
In a moment of insanity
I see everyone as an enemy
who might not see how great I am
(their loss)
Then it must be my job to help them see
how very very good I am.
But even when my words are crystal clear
they cannot be seen
by those who have
intentionally blinded themselves.
Would shouting work
if you couldn’t hear?
Would jumping up and down in your face help
if you couldn’t see?
Why force people into behaviors
for which they have no natural aptitude
and absolutely no desire?
How cruel.
She told me she was a forgiving person
and in time we could be friends.
You can do it!
Just be positive!
See that it’s for the best.
Blah-dee blah-dee  blah.
When I asked for clarification,
she told me she didn’t want to argue.
When I said I was attempting
to gain understanding
she said she needed to stop right now.
Ah, ok.
Now I see where he gets it.
Ouch.
Merry Christmas anyway.

Wholly Dazed

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Don’t get me wrong,
it’s not that I hate Christmas…
It’s just that it is dead to me now.
The lights, the trees, the carols,
stepping into the home
of my son’s kindergarten friend,
seeing their happy Christmas
taking shape in their happy home,
and inwardly bemoaning
the shapelessness of my Christmas,
now that it’s dead.
Disintegration.
A marriage, a holiday, a life,
all falling apart.
Dead things decay;
particles break down
and return to the earth.
New life springs up
and eases the memory of death.
Will this happen for me?
Can I hope for this much?

Self-Help Junkie

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I ordered more self-help books today…
they’ve been my drug of choice
since June.
I keep believing
someone else has found
the clear path to my healing.
I’m searching
for the recipe
the strategy
the tip
the trick
the magical incantation
the mantra
the meditation
the process
the 40 day workbook
the online program
the teacher, speaker, or coach
to help me feel ok
about my life,  my self.
The hungry ghost looms large;
its insatiable appetite aches loudly.
I am overcome by everything.
I start to believe
that some mistake was made
when I came to Earth,
because clearly
I wasn’t meant for this world.
I pick up another self-help book.
Oh, someone else feels this way too?
I find some hope, some solace,
one moment of respite.
There are worse addictions.

Hang Ups

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Years ago
his mother made
the cutest Christmas stockings
for all of us,
a little family of stockings
with all of our names
that always looked so cheerful
hanging up.
This year he asked
Should I hang yours up?
And I said No.
How can I face
that happy little family
of four
when my real life family
is… no more?
Now I’m sad
seeing just three stockings hanging up
where before there were four.
Ah, I should just get over myself.
It’s a stocking.
I could just hang it up.
Why all these hang ups?

 

PS I actually fantasized about asking his mother if she wanted my stocking back, being that it’s handmade and all and I kind of can’t look at it any more without sobbing.  I pictured myself saying something like, “So I can just pry the letters of my name off, I’ll send it back to you, and you can keep it safe until he gets remarried.  Then you can put his next wife’s name on it.  I’m sure she’ll love it.

I of course didn’t do that.  High fives!  The love that I still have for the woman far outweighs the satisfaction I would’ve felt at being so outrageous.  Plus, with no one there to photograph or film her reaction, what’s the point?