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Peace Poems

1/5/2021

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Timeless

Sit still. Isn’t it exhausting
to be someone else,
to visit places in your head
that promise happiness but can’t
convince your heart to stay?

Peace doesn’t arrive
when you’re on vacation.
Sometimes it’s during a pandemic
when you’re stuck at home,
closing your eyes and waiting--
​
suspended in the darkness
of not knowing
between sunset and moonrise,
a horizon of questions
loving presence will answer.
​

Denying Death

We attend my grandmother’s funeral virtually,
watch the priest and my uncle
perform the last rites and rituals
purifying her body with ghee and rice
for a peaceful soul release.
The screen ceremony feels surreal.

Children and grandchildren speak of Ba’s cooking,
her generosity, her home, her heart
that always flowed in the direction of love
as great grandchildren lay rose petals
over her body, palms pressed in
Jai Sri Krishna they are learning.

I keep thinking that Ba is just sleeping.
At any moment she will wake up and ask,
Tamē manē kēma rāndhatā chō?
Jō tamanē bhūkha lāgī hōya
tō manē tamārā māṭē rasō'i karavā dō.**


Beside me grief flows in violent waves
through my mother, tears unable to relieve
the pressure that such loss builds inside.
As we watch the coffin pushed into the furnace,
a whimpering sound escapes from somewhere
I don’t recognize, an ancient, primal call.

I see the faces, feel the bodies
of everyone I love, including myself
burning back to bones, to dust,
leaving this world with nothing
except the lives we touch,
and the peace we can leave behind.

**Why are you cooking me?
   If you are hungry,
   then let me cook for you.


The Deepest Peace
(inspired by The Deepest Peace by Zenju Earthlyn Manuel)

Drawn to the fuchsia tinged light
reflected in Dumbarton Bay,
I’m moved by the stillness of shorebirds
wading in shallow waters,
waiting for the day to begin.

All meaningful action is born
from this womb of silence.
​
I must also pause, feel
this earth-driven calm within,
before speaking and acting,
before spreading my wings,
checking in with the wind
when it’s best to take flight.

Picture
"Sunrise on the Beach" by Gray Wolf Gallery
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Advice from Mother Nature or True Nature?

12/19/2020

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Dear One, I never promised you
a pain or worry free life.
I did promise to always receive your
questions with curiosity and interest--
watching them grow like saplings
from mother to grandmother answers
just as the oaks in this preserve do.

Roots grow deep in underground
wisdom that is not always apparent.
Branches stretch far and wide 
towards a loving sun,
towards other tree beings
living in darkness and light.

Keep visiting this place,
even in the middle of winter 
when all looks lifeless 
and feels hopeless--
when a dormant heart seed
inside its protective shell 
is whispered to life
with breath and faith
in these words.
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Crossing Dumbarton Bridge

11/13/2020

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​cobalt violet sunrise
over the bay
infusing the heart
with a quiet joy
priming it to meet
the day’s suffering
with peaceful presence
reflecting back hope
when sunrises
are forgotten
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Perimenopause Reflections

10/11/2020

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What a joy to be on this retreat with Anne Cushman. Thank you for helping me process the perimenopausal transition!

****

A Woman’s Worth

Perimenopause mother tree,
rooted in old beliefs
of a woman’s worth.
Don’t let the foliage,
the fertility fade away
as green leaves still cling
to memories of summer.

Let one brave leaf bleed
from bright yellow
to burnt crimson,
inspiring others to fall
so barren branches
can practice the art
of letting go.

A woman’s worth
is not in the promise
of spring blossoms,
but a willingness to ground
in the truth of her season,
to nurture what is
still growing within.

****

Menses

Menses, I’ll miss you, the way you are a slow trickle in a creek or a rushing river of sloughed off endometrial lining. I’ll miss the pelvic cramping that starts as mild movement on the PMS Richter scale, then slowly crescendos into larger seismic waves.

Do I take an Advil, silencing the uterus, or do I breathe through wave after wave of sensations ripping through the lower belly, allowing the uterus to speak? It doesn’t have to be a boxing match between Western medicine and Eastern philosophy, does it?

I’ll miss the tampons, the Always pads ranging from regular, long, and extra-long/overnight so you don’t stain underwear, pajama pants, or bed sheets. Why was I so ashamed of you?

Though this womb well is almost dry, I will think of you every time I sustain a cut, or care for a bleeding patient. It doesn’t matter where the blood comes from; it’s a sign of life, a heme-rich stain of your wisdom tattooed everywhere I used to look away.
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When I Can't See Your Face

7/5/2020

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(Inspired by “Small Kindness” by Danusha Laméris)


It’s relatively quiet on the hike-
minimal sounds of birds chirping,
lizards scurrying across the path,
footsteps against dry leaves and dirt.
The few hikers I meet have
facial expressions masked.
I can’t tell if they are smiling,
frowning, or the lips are flat-lined.
Out of nowhere comes this silent scream.
When will this all end? 
When can I see your face again?

Like a mother holding the frustrations 
of an impatient child,
I try and open to what’s here-
uncertainty, the wish for things to be different.
All I can do is thank a hiker
for stepping aside so I can pass,
wave to another hiker,
Enjoy your hike.
When I can’t see your face,
words and hand gestures 
will have to be enough.
I still miss the smiles.
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The Gift

4/26/2020

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This moment will not come gift-wrapped 
in the shiny paper you expected 
or the promise of on time delivery.
Sometimes it’s unpleasant-
asking you to look for what’s missing,
to listen for the friend you’ve 
been waiting for your whole life,
to just breathe and unclench 
tightly held fists.
Surrendering to the relentless 
passing of days and nights,
this is it, 
what you’ve been waiting for,
a peace so profound that you 
didn’t recognize it at first glance.
The best gifts don’t have 
to be so expensive.
Some gifts are free if you’re 
willing to redefine happiness.


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Rebirth

4/9/2020

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Card: Blessings of the Moon Maiden – from the Kuan Yin Oracle cards by Alana Fairchild.


Most mornings I sit watching 
fearful thoughts of the future,
listening to crackles of the radiator
and my husband’s reassuring 
sounds while sleeping.
The breath flows easily 
like an unblocked river
on its way to an ocean of Oneness-
breathing in suffering 
breathing out compassion,
taking in care
releasing anxiety,
opening a little more each day 
to COVID-19 destruction,
even death if that is my destiny.
It’s a miracle to make it to this day
hearing the wind whisper my name
in celebration of all the years lived,
knowing that this breath will
one day inhabit a new body
for the chance to continually 
practice Kwan Yin’s vows 
​hearing the cries of the world.


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Elemental Kindness

4/1/2020

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"Spring Flowers" by Bonnie Bertrand
​(click on image to enlarge)


The breath does not ask why this
body is in the shape that it is.
Like the wind, it kisses all parts 
of the terrain with impartial care.
The body sits, stands, walks, lays down 
always in relation with the Earth,
Her tears falling as spring rain,
our tears falling for the lives we can’t save.
Some days the sun peaks through 
dismal COVID clouds threatening 
to blanket and suffocate us all.
When smiles are masked,
hugs and handshakes forbidden,
the eyes still communicate compassion.
Spring flowers still push through 
cracks of uncertainty 
despite a destiny of decay.
May all that we’ve lost seed the soil
for all that can still be gained,
benevolence and interdependence
standing together, six feet apart 
frantic hearts at the front lines
fighting to protect what never dies.

​
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Awakening Care

3/22/2020

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Picture

I used to think that enlightenment 
Was a place to get to
Just one more class, one more practice
One more teacher training 
And I’m on my way
To the land of freedom

 
What if enlightenment was always right here 
A calming breath underneath 
An N-95 mask and other *PPE
Compassionate words to soothe 
The ill and worried well
Knowing that both need attention

 
What if enlightenment is vacation 
Redefined as staycation
No more Maui or even Monterey
The rooms in my home and backyard
Becoming the paradise I seek
Sheltering in place to awaken

 
What if enlightenment is this body
Breaking down to remind me
Speed caused injury
Slowing down is what heals
Yoga to Qigong, hiking to walking
Embodying over accomplishing

 
What if enlightenment is family
The ones who love me most
And push all my buttons
To test a bodhisattva’s vow

On your path to liberation
Will you take us with you?
 
Enlightenment is what’s here now
Pleasant, unpleasant and neutral
Moments taking turns to watch
If I’ll show up with grace
Or resist and run away
Accepting an in between response 

 
As long as I’m willing to try
 
(*PPE: personal protective equipment worn to prevent injury or infection)

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Reflections from a New Year's Retreat

1/7/2020

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​12-28-19  Softening Ideas of Self

Loving presence doesn’t ask why
I’m going on retreat, leaving family behind
Why I didn’t bake cookies on Christmas with my sweet-toothed daughter 
Why it’s tempting to sleep in for a 6am sit when the season encourages hibernation 


Loving presence doesn’t award certificates to a maternal safe harbor holding her daughters emotional waves 
To a physician’s compassionate heart making space for each patient’s story
To a writer and yogi trying to wake up from dreams of identity and safe passage


Loving presence becomes the heater when a yogi can’t sleep in her dorm room
Puts a hand on a quivering belly and heart 
Finds sacred in the mundane, the profane 
Sensing the potential in a winter’s branch
​Without needing to see the bud
​
​
12-29-19  Never Enough

winter trees, clawing fingers
grasping for spring 
for something they don’t have
this moment is never enough
​

​
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​
12-30-19  Enough

winter trees, bare fingers
not needing spring 
to remind them
​this moment is enough
​


12-31-19  The Indriya River

The river knows it is destined for the ocean. It does not resist meanderings away from the suspected path, energetically flowing in the direction it was meant to flow. It is aware of each stone it caresses, each leaf, each fish, each root it touches moment by moment. The river does not wish it were further upstream or downstream, honoring exactly where it is at any given point in time, surrendering to an ever changing scene.

​The river knows it is destined for the ocean. When it forgets, may it remember again, and again, and again. 
​


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​
​1-1-20  Ode to Wool Blankets

You’re scratchy. You keep slipping off
the bed in the middle of the night,
leaving a hole for cold air to 
wake me up before it’s time.
Do you understand why I don’t like you,
why I long  for the down comforter 
my husband insisted I bring here
knowing how cold and grouchy 
I get with poor quality sleep?


Maybe it’s not your fault.
Maybe it’s the way I’m relating to you,
insisting you transform into something you’re not.
What would happen if I trusted you to keep me warm,
​gently pulled you back over this body when you’ve slipped off

rather than yanking you into submission?
What if I accepted you here and now
without rewinding or fast forwarding (in time)
to a high and lofty bed at home,
knowing this can’t last forever?

What if these words could form a soft quilt,
the five faculties stitched into the fabric
of a metta-loving heart?
Wool blankets, may you not be so irritable
as I wrap myself in your embrace.

​
Picture
A new year...trying a different way to make the bed.

​
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The next morning...it worked!!!
​

1-2-20 

sitting on top 
of a stone sculpture 
i am not afraid to fall
knowing how to rebuild
the structure of samadhi
​when needed
​


1-3-20  Listening

Sit as if you are supported by 
an invisible chair made just for you,
it’s contours molding to your body 
better than any lover can.
Breathe into the areas of discomfort,
massaging them with gentle patience.
How is a masseuse on some tropical  
beach supposed to know your body?
The terror, the longing, the hope 
that one day no part will remain uncharted, 
that all the cobwebs will glisten with tears
in the light of loving awareness,
that a heart can radiate
Brahmavihara blessings
above, below, around and everywhere,
inviting integration.
One body. One breath. One home.
​
​
Picture


Realizing what I experienced on 1/2/20 was not samadhi. Hindrances were absent but senses were still present. Darn! And trusting it will happen if/when it is meant to. Let’s redo that poem again.

sitting on top 
of a stone sculpture 
i am not afraid to fall
knowing how to rebuild
the structure of ego
falling again 
...and again
​and again...
​


1/5/20  Coming Home

devoting my life to the teachings 
i am not afraid of what lies ahead 
dying again and again and again
​resting in the arms of truth 


​
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    Kaveri Patel, a woman who is always searching for the wisdom in waves.

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