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
Poem · Poetry

Between

Between my hand

and your hand –

between doing

and being –

between yes

and no –

between the beat of the heart

and what the eyes see…

there is space.

Its gift is as big 

or as small

as is our ability to be awake

to the quiet that reveals it.

One knows when they have encountered

a soul who is 

acquainted with this space.

For to be in their presence,

is to be

showered with unconditional Love,

grace and attention.

Souls who have done the work,

know deeply that

our travels in life

are best navigated when

there is no rush

between this

and that.

Life is best lived with joy

when our inner brake

is awake

and effective

and we are watchful

of the spaces.

So, be alert to the openings.

Honor them.

The dance of life awaits.

Ask yourself this –

             what lies between each breath taken?

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018

black-and-white-black-and-white-hand-1496146

Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

Word Provider

 

Often when I sit to write,

the decision is spontaneous.

I may be in my usual routine,

and then the urge bubbles up.

A thought comes…

        Maybe I will write.

Then I simply position my fingers on the keyboard

and out it flows.

My head, heart, and fingers

are connected to that larger reality

that usually slips through the fingers.

It is an act of faith –

to put myself in the position

to be available

and receive.

I trust the words will come.

And when they do,

I am one with Inspiration

and being 

me.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018

kaitlyn-baker-422999-unsplash

Poem · Poetry

Inspiration

Trying to coax you

feels dishonest – and yet,

I do not know how to proceed

without you with me.

I love our usual rhythm

when you bubble up like a fountain

or surprise me with a flash.

The light you bring leads the way.

It is as if, like an eager child,

you grab me by the wrist,

pulling me with all your might,

to see what your wide eyes see,

to open to what is being born right before me.

 

This is our ritual,

our occasional awkward dance.

 

I long to know you better,

to deepen the intimacy between us

with more regular meetings.

I get jazzed when we can be together –

You, the lightening bug-

Me, the catcher.

But you are an unpredictable one,

mysterious in your ways

and sneaky.

I never know when you will appear.

You are always in the driver’s seat

while I ride shotgun,

trying to trust in the route you put me on.

You show up,

and I am knocked out of my usual rhythm,

suddenly consumed by your presence.

I love those moments.

They are like electricity lighting me up

on all circuits.

It is as if

you give birth to me all over again,

but in little flashes of light

to direct my unfolding.

I dare not ignore your brilliance.

Copyright © Cynthia Cady Stanton 2017

Tree_Of_Light_by_lowapproach

Poem · Poetry

Noticing

 

The way it feels

when I dare to step away from patterns

long held onto

with a tight knuckle grip

as a way to hold me up,

glue me together.

 

The look in your eyes

when I am really paying attention,

allowing my heart to open to you.

 

The soaring freedom that sends me

to new depths and heights

all at the same time

when I get out of my own way.

 

How pain disappears

when my attention turns in a divine direction

instead of towards my navel,

so clogged with repetitive angst.

 

How a long walk by the sea washes me

of all the garbage

I have allowed to enter my soul –

a baptism of surf and sound,

wind and grace.

The thunder of the surf rocking me,

holding me with an eternal embrace.

Oh, how healing that is!

 

How the voice of a great singer

sends my spirit soaring

and beckons me to use my voice

with full expression and power,

freeing it

and healing me from the multitude of ways

I have held it back.

 

How Love is present,

when I am present

whether with the dying,

my love,

or my cat.

Turning away from the moment

robs me,

robs us –

of God’s company.

 

Waking up is a beautiful thing –

a peeling of the layers –

that so strangle and constrict.

We think these layers are important

but they are all false construction.

I love the release as they fall away

allowing a deeper joy

to be found.

 

I am noticing

two openings:

my eyes with inspired vision,

my heart with a tender softening.

Both are wrapped up in deep peace.

 

Copyright © Cynthia Cady Stanton 2017

20170825_195535

Poem · Poetry

The Opening

It is the space between
what I hear
and how I receive it.

It is the time between
what I think
and what I do.

It is the moment of rest
I sometimes allow
before the next thing.

This is the place that needs enlarging.
But I tend to keep it small,
even though it beckons me
with sweet whispers
and gentle nudges.

I hear it in the rhythm of the waves
and the rustle of the dancing leaves.
I see it in the glide of the seagulls
and the ballet of the small shorebirds
as they float across the shoreline.
Be like us,
they seem to say.
Float through your day.
It is easy
if you let go
and feel the flow.

The invitation is always there,
expansive and inviting –
a huge place of calm and beauty
waiting to hold me
with a comforting embrace.
Waiting to lead me
to the unimaginable.

But I am distracted.

I know I am not alone in this.

Thankfully,
Grace is a beautiful and patient teacher.
She has taught me many things.
I finally know that
You are in the space that calls.
You are in each breath –
especially the deep ones.
You are in me.
You are around me.
You work through me.
You need me as much as
I need you.

I have learned that turning away from you
and ignoring your sweet beaconing
is akin to a slow and lonely death.

Opening to You –
and the spaces between,
is like coming home
to who I am.

plovers in flight

Copyright© 2017 Cynthia Cady Stanton