Putting Words Around the Unfolding
Create some wind.
No matter what swirls around you,
add some air to it.
Whether it is a sigh
or a deep gulp,
get it going.
Don’t get caught in the holding of your inner breezes.
This only creates pain…
Life is born in and through us
and it is only on the wing of our precious breath
that we can unfold and float
among the mountains and valleys.
This is what breathing is –
working with life.
And working with life,
is why we are here.
Copyright@Cynthia Cady Stanton, April 2022
When I remember to take a breath,
to stop,
to get quiet,
it’s as if my eyes automatically open more.
I can see the details…
the robins digging for worms,
the leaves fluttering in the breeze,
the expression lines deepening
on the face of my beloved.
It is the quiet
that wakes me up.
With no noise to distract me,
I can also find the words.
Somehow the container of my heart
has permission to open,
spilling out with the cry of prayer
and the lyrics of grace.
I hear my own speech, and
in that listening,
I realize
I have become quiet enough
to be held by it all.
All this…
in the space of silence –
this place I call
my home.
Copyright@CynthiaCady Stanton.com
In the right light,
the morning greets me
with the kind of hope needed
to float joyfully into the day.
I start with a smile
lit from within.
In the right light,
my elderly cat appears like a
kitten resting after deep play.
As the rays of sunshine he bathes in
shimmer across his gray coat,
they seem to hide how frail
he really is.
In the right light,
the emerging silver threads
on my head
bring a sparkle to my deep blue eyes,
revealing the gift
of my earned evolution
and the power of being seen.
In the right light,
all life is art –
and all its shades,
all its colors, shapes, and textures,
all the broken and joined lines,
seem to form words –
the ones that matter.
They speak louder to me
these days.
In the right light,
the trail ahead appears
clear and illuminated
for the distance.
It’s never ending
but in the good way –
the way that comforts.
The invitation to proceed
feels safe and important.
In the right light,
the wounded places within
become fertile ground
which, when thoughtfully nurtured,
produce fresh verdant growth
that is quite beautiful.
Noticing this deepens
my breathing and presence
in my life.
In the right light,
the dim of dusk
brings a glow
which kisses everything.
The quality of this light
forms speech which calls to me…
“Come on home, Sweet One. You have done well.
It is time to rest now. Tomorrow we begin again together.”
If light is in your heart, you will find your way home.
Rumi
Copyright@CynthiaCadyStanton.com, Feb. 2022
As a baby poet,
and a lover of writing,
the words that arrive
seemed to flow effortlessly
for a time.
When I dared to take those
first steps
that one day in a coffee shop,
and my love – after reading the results –
and to my surprise –
proclaimed me a poet,
I blossomed so fully
and beautifully
into joy and purpose.
I shined from the inside out,
blessed by having been seen.
This is what happens
when one is in the flow,
the wellsprings of artful expression.
But lately,
I find myself in the driest season of all.
This dehydration and loss of the words
has begun to hurt.
I feel it in the tightness of my voice –
a constipation in manifestation…
of engagement in my gifts.
So where did those waters of life go?
There is still a heart in me
that longs to speak.
There is still a soul
that seeks to inspire.
There is still a desire
to connect artfully
and with meaningful impact –
not out of a need for praise,
but of a soul-drive to be helpful –
to connect to our common humanity.
But here I am.
Thirsty for the words
and waiting to be quenched
by the flow
which glows through me.
It has been a season
of healing and grief for me.
There has been a deep dive
into all the embodied pain
I have been carrying –
lugging around through life
unwittingly.
The drag of it all
has finally caught up with me.
I have been brought to my knees
to find a profound humility.
Now that I am getting back on my feet again,
and on sacred ground,
feeling healed and graced
with a deeper listening to life,
I sense the presence of inspiration again.
She whispers softly,
but with an urgency
that deepens my attention.
So the words are starting to spring forth gently.
I know I must share them –
for I know they are needed
for the many who thirst longingly
just like me.
My heart begins to pour them out
as I enter the flow
once again.
Copyright@cynthiacadystanton.com, Jan. 2022
When the chill of being alone
is knitted to the bone,
I long for you,
my friend.
It is too easy to feel capable
of navigating this life
in a solitary way –
to convince myself that
all is well,
and I am fine –
strong and muscled
in all the right places.
But as my bones begin to creak and groan,
and my sturdy stride weakens,
I feel my empty hand hungry
for your grasp.
Life does not want us to be alone.
And now as I sit
in the cold and dark,
the chill in my heart whispers,
“You need someone next to you to
warm this bleak contraction –
for there is no valor in enduring isolation.”
I sigh the kind of sigh that has the breath of the ocean within it…
and realize my need of a companion-
Being competent is not enough anymore,
and does not warm the soul
like a shared laughable moment would.
It’s friends who bring the warmth
with the their love and care,
and also the light which
illuminates and heals.
A good friend walks side by side with you –
a better friend helps you see more
along the way…
They provide the mirror you need
for your own evolution.
And so, the time for reaching out is here.
The confining walls fall away –
and this pressing question reaches my lips:
Where are you?
Copyright @Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2021
I like to get up before the sun does.
It is a kind of race
to greet the day first, for
being alone in the stillness of the morning
fuels me.
When I walk in the quiet
of my slumbering neighborhood,
and I can look up at the moon
and the stars,
and feel the crisp morning air
on my sleepy skin,
I am like a wakening flower bud.
I open to the promise
of a new day –
of being in fresh light.
I am a rare creature, I know.
Few would take the covers off so early
to brave the chill.
But me? I just get some coffee in me,
bundle up, and go.
It is the most liberating time of my day –
for yesterday has been filed away…
and it is just me, the stars,
and hope.
So, I lift up my voice
and sing, joining the bird chorus
as the glow begins to dawn.
This is what morning energy does for me.
I move forward through the dark and
rise with the sun.
It is a kind of practice, you see.
If I can dance my way through the dark
feeling safe and happy,
then I have mastered the power
of self-transcendence.
I have learned to let go,
and relax into the flow of life.
It is a kind of cleanse
that reminds me that I am actually
free to be –
and no loss or regret
can keep me under the covers
for very long.
Copyright @ Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2021
Walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart, and you will never walk alone.
Gerry and the Pacemakers
You would think
that by the time we reach maturity,
we would know how
to make the way clear
for ourselves…
And yet,
the patterns continue –
the ones that
face-plant us amidst
the tangle around us.
Those frustrating weeds
of all we hang onto
have pinned us down
and left us feeling powerless.
We still have those times when
we forget how to breathe
and Life itself
needs to breathe for us –
teaching the way from
gasps to sighs to
calming deep breaths.
Eventually, with this fortified
and nurturing air,
we become strong enough,
to be receptive to our own truth.
We are ready to
trust our own insights –
and we can stand free
amidst the tangle
before us..
We understand that
Weeds are just flowers
with an angry history –
and compassion finds us.
Only then can we be
safe and whole even
amidst the weeds.
So, when on the ground,
look up –
examine what has been planted..
Drop the fear of harm
and tripping.
Really see the beauty before you.
Each bud and leaf
represents a lesson gained.
Know that the weeds with the thickest stems
and biggest thorns
have been planted by you
and you alone.
Those are the most stubborn
to pull from the ground –
for their roots are hardened
and run deep.
They require more focus
and strength.
Honor them all.
Once truly witnessed,
these trip wires
have fulfilled their purpose
and the way is made clear.
Do you understand?
Love the weeds.
Elevate each one of them,
giving thanks for their wisdom bestowed.
Wake up to the ways
you have cluttered your own path.
Please don’t despair –
for everyone has weeds on their trail.
The way to freedom
is born in taking responsibility…
elevating the pain we have been feeling,
bowing to it,
and setting it free.
You do not need it anymore
for you have arisen from the rubble
healed.
We can clear our own path
if we are brave enough
to nurse the skinned knees and
to cry its tears.
So, pull each weed
and lift it up to the bright blue sky.
You have found your way through.
You can now move forward
and live in joy.
You can be a blessing for the world.
Copyright @ Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2021
I’m walking uphill, both ways it hurts. I bury my heart here in this dirt. I hope it’s a seed, I hope it works. I need to grow, here I could be. Closer to light, closer to me. Don’t have to do this perfectly. Have I the courage to change?
“Courage” – a song by Pink
Each step forward seems a challenge…
There are rocks to dodge
and some of them with sharp edges.
Sometimes there is a soft landing
and the sweetness
of toes and heals being held.
This sweetness,
this softness,
lands right into my heart.
But going forward still
feels a chancy endeavor
as painful steps
cause careful navigation.
So I am on alert.
I watch intently for danger.
I don’t want to be wounded.
It is not a relaxing walk.
So the tension builds
in my anticipation of pain.
It kind of takes the joy away
of a walk on the beach.
I notice this –
and I bow to the awareness sparking.
And I stop.
I don’t want to proceed in the usual way.
I take a moment
to breathe in the surf spray.
I attend to the flow of the waves.
They are so peaceful
and effortless –
beautiful, really.
The music of it all
reaches the inner spaces in me –
the ones that need soothing.
I realize that
I need not take a painful path.
I can swim instead.
It has been a long time
since enjoying the grace and baptism
of cool water in the sunshine –
of surrendering to a larger support.
Walking on the rocks alone
is no longer the journey.
I choose to float instead
and learn the art and gift
of buoyancy.
Copyright@Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2021
I left it in my sock drawer,
that token so lovingly given.
But the orphaned socks,
with a need to belong to something,
must have swallowed it up.
It was a beautiful item,
glistening with light and color,
and radiating love.
I am annoyed with myself because
this item mattered,
which I now realize –
after it is gone.
Once again, the lesson
is clear –
I forget to honor the little things –
the tiny details
which easily slip from view
and need attending.
Are you the same?
You know what I mean…
A tiny gesture, a soft whisper,
the fact that
someone else did the dishes,
for instance,
granting you a moment
to rest or
create something beautiful –
like a poem.
These are the precious gems.
Each time I press forward
oblivious to the little things,
I promise to be better.
I understand now
the value of attention –
the kind which pauses long enough
to take in the goodness
around me –
and then feel it
in my body
and heart.
My usual way is to push forward
into the next task
or event.
I am
like a horse
with blinders on,
trying to win
an imagined race.
I may get there quicker
but I am blind to the life
and blessings
freely given
along the way.
So I pause on purpose
this time.
I open my eyes.
I begin to gather up
the moments and memories,
and peruse the old photos
in my mind
of all the big and small moments,
forgotten.
I see how life has changed me
in a million tiny ways.
I bow to the growth given.
This is how
I learn to cherish
all the small things.
It is kind of embarrassing
that I have to keep
re-learning this.
But it is okay.
The fact that I care to learn
means my heart is opening
and a deeper peace
and grace
is on the way.
In fact,
it is already
here –
in one tiny flash
of realization.
Now the way forward
is simple:
Be a beholder:
for the secret
is in the small things.
Copyright@ Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2021
The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you. Don’t go back to sleep.
Rumi
The well has run dry –
or so it seems.
Life has been wordless
in this season.
There is something churning within
which stalls the poetry.
Whatever it is feels
essential and mysterious.
What I do know is that
I have no patience for simple
right now.
I cannot bear
any glossing over,
or easy finishes.
The necessary dredging
and stages must happen.
I seem to be germinating,
and it isn’t a comfortable process.
What is on the other side
of this hushed season?
It is hard to allow for change –
I don’t much like it.
I like my usual grooves
which are predictable
and comfortable.
But I don’t get anywhere new
when I am in them.
I don’t live free.
Perhaps this is what
it feels like
to be tight in the shell,
or trapped under hardened ground,
heavy in its lack of nourishment.
I long to transcend to
a new place –
a place where I have the freedom
to be me,
to speak the words
which bring the light with them.
Realizing what is true
and where wisdom resides,
I begin to see that
I am but a tiny green shoot
about to burst through.
It may feel a challenge
at the start,
but there is the promise
of a stunning bloom.
I hold onto that
and am reassured.
Copyright@ Cynthia Cady Stanton, May 2021
And then the day can when the risk to remain tight in the buds more painful than the risk it took to blossom.
Anais Nin
Becoming and Beholding 