Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

The Places Where I Recognize Myself

There are moments when

I catch glimpses myself –

where I picture the kind of woman

I am becoming though

she sometimes feels far away.

I will be in a yoga class and

feel in my body a sense of home on the mat.

“Yes, here,” will be whispered into my heart.

I will stay even if uncomfortable.

I may be holding the hand of another

while they are dying and

listening to their softening voice

while witnessing their growing transparency.

I offer my humanity and breath while I take them in.

I stay.

Yes, here.

Once I was at the beach walking.

The sea spoke to me.

“You belong. Come here often. No need to call ahead.”

I found my home in the world

while listening to the music of the surf.

Now I make time for my toes to be cradled by sand.

My heart, soothed by sea songs 

in the tempo of wholeness and belonging.

I might be peeling carrots and

learning to cook tofu.

I have learned the value of green things.

“This is how to nourish. Eat these. Set this table.”

My body thanks me.

In the neighborhood, I walk 

in the early morning by myself,

saying hello to the trees and bunnies.

It is an active solitude 

where I converse with God. 

Seeking guidance for my many steps,

I maintain my strength of body.

This is how I move forward into a new day.

Yes, this is me.

Then the words…

They call to me.

We are friends most of the time.

Metaphors and beauty, insights –

beckon me to the page.

Another tether to my soul formed.

Writing is an intimate action which

enables me, lifts me, soothes me.

Inspiration has become a cherished friend.

Absolutely. This is me.

I am acquainted with grief and pain.

My heart has been broken many times.

My body has failed me.

I have endured,

grown.

My wounded places have

transformed into fertile places.

I cultivate this inner garden of earned wisdom

by extending myself to others who similarly suffer,

trip, and find themselves on holy ground.

Yes. Me.

And finally, I can envision her…

a graceful, beautiful and wise woman

with silky silver hair and a sparkle in her eyes.

She is wrinkled in some places –

Soft in others.

This soul has a glow about her 

which lights up a room with love and grace.

She is my north star.

Each day I make my way to her.

Moment by moment she is created

through my open present heart

and daily choices.

I allow her to emerge.

Copyright@Cynthia Cady Stanton, July 2022

Photo by Vlada Karpovich on Pexels.com

Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

On The Wing of The Breath

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

Uncategorized

In The Space of Silence

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

Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

In The Right Light

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.”

The light can change everything.
Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.com

If light is in your heart, you will find your way home.

Rumi

Copyright@CynthiaCadyStanton.com, Feb. 2022

Uncategorized

A Deeper Listening

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

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
Uncategorized

Beyond Solitude

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

Uncategorized

Just Me, the Stars, and Hope

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
Photo by Matheus Bertelli on Pexels.com

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Out of the Weeds

Photo by Vitaliy Mitrofanenko from Pexels

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

Uncategorized

On The Rocks

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

Uncategorized

The Small Things

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
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