Resilience

On Pain (Kahlil Gibran)

And a woman spoke, saying, Tell us of Pain.
     And he said:
     Your pain is the breaking of the shell 
that encloses your understanding.
     Even as the stone of the fruit must break, 
that its heart may stand in the sun, 
so must you know pain.
     And could you keep your heart in wonder 
at the daily miracles of your life 
your pain would not seem less wondrous 
than your joy;
     And you would accept the seasons of your heart, 
even as you have always accepted the seasons 
that pass over your fields.
     And you would watch with serenity 
through the winters of your grief.

The Facts of Life (Pádraig Ó Tuama)

That you were born and you will die.

That you will sometimes love enough and sometimes not.

That you will lie
if only to yourself.

That you will get tired.

That you will learn most from the situations you did not choose.

That there will be some things that move you more than you can say.

That you will live
that you must be loved.

That you will avoid questions most urgently in need of your attention.

That you began as the fusion of a sperm and an egg of two people who once were strangers
and may well still be.

That life isn’t fair.
That life is sometimes good
and sometimes better than good.

 

Awakened Heart

There is an Old Woman Inside Me (Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer)

There is an old woman inside me
with long gray hair and fuzzy green eyes.
She is soft in the way stones are soft
when tumbled by waves for a hundred years.
She is still as I run from room to room
content to listen to my bluster,
to watch the day unfold.
Her smile is gentle as dawn light
as she hums a wordless tune.
And as I make calls and check schedules,
she curls in the lap of my busyness
like an ash-colored cat,
her body warm and relaxed.
I love the old woman inside me,
gnarled as the branches of an old peach tree.
She is no stranger to how the world changes.
Every day I practice to be more like her,
slow as honey, quiet as moonlight,
familiar as the woman in the mirror.

 

Today’s Meditation (Danna Faulds)

I choose not to say the 

usual prayers as I sit 

for meditation. I skip

all techniques and simply

open to what’s here.

There is no clap of thunder,

no bolt from the blue,

but I do have a sense

of groundedness and listening.

My inner world doesn’t

grow still, but neither is it

overwhelming or chaotic.

I sit as if I belong,

as if there is no right

or wrong way to be

present with what is.

Minutes pass, sometimes

slowly, sometimes fast.

Nothing much happens,

yet I feel whole.

Just as I am, no addition

or subtraction needed,

I am content to rest

inside the mystery.

 

This Ordinary Spring Day (Danna Faulds)

How quickly I gain energy

from the trees, from all the

green and growing beings

in the woods. The fern fronds

have unfurled their fetal curls

and every leafing thing is

bursting with chlorophylled

vitality. I sneeze, then sneeze

again, pollen clearly visible

on the bench where I rest.

The heartbeat of the earth is

strong beneath my feet and

the morning birdsong loud

and lusty. I wouldn’t trade

this ordinary spring day

for any future promise.

 

The Moment (Marie Howe)

Oh, the coming-out-of-nowhere moment

when, nothing

happens

no what-have-I-to-do-today-list

 

maybe half a moment

the rush of traffic stops.

The whir of I should be, I should be, I should be

slows to silence,

the white cotton curtains hanging still.

 

Meeting the Light Completely (Jane Hirshfield)

What’s In the Temple (Tom Barrett)

Pause with us here a while
Put your ear to the wall of your heart

Listen for the whisper of knowing there
Love will touch you if you are very still

[I only read an excerpt; See entire poem HERE]