Poem · Poetry

This Golden Crack

Like a canvas

before the artist’s brush,

we get our markings.

Our unique hues

and textures

create the picture 

of what seems to be true

about us.

But sometimes life is lived

more like a ceramic pot –

one that gets cracked

along the way…

shattered, even –

the mending of which

is complicated work.

It takes the artist’s hands

and keen attention to detail

to put the pieces together,

beautifully.

It is a necessary process.

This breaking,

followed by the recognition of the mess,

enables us to be held

and mended.

When we submit to the

Master’s hands,

and allow for the

hard work to be done,

we are fashioned anew.

Our cracks become golden

and essential. 

We are forever changed, and

we shine with humble strength

from our broken places.

Like the Velveteen Rabbit,

we have been loved into

becoming more real.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018

Tea bowl Tea bowl
; Japan; 17th century; Stoneware with clear, crackled glaze, stained by ink; gold lacquer repairs.; H x W: 10.5 x 12.2 cm (4 1/8 x 4 13/16 in); Gift of Charles Lang Freer
Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

When Praying

It starts with stopping

and then a deep breath –

the kind that really fills you,

and reaches to the bottom of things.

When you begin to settle

and peace starts to bloom,

you wait.

There is nothing to say.

It is a time to listen.

The longings will arise

and you simply hold them.

With grace and acceptance,

you lift them –

first to your heart,

and then up in surrender.

It is this gesture,

this gathering of yourself

which connects you to

who you are.

For there is no separation

between you and God.

You are a drop of water

in God’s ocean.

You belong –

and all it takes 

is listening and bowing

to remember this

and be healed

of want and need.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018

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Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

Message Received

My love went for a walk yesterday.

It was a sunny day and

the trees were singing.

Each step was an affirmation

of a beautiful day.

Walking is a wonderful way to connect

to the divine,

to our higher purpose.

The rhythm of movement

works like a physical mantra:

             I move forward from my center.  I connect to the ground.

As our muscles propel us,

our heart is lifted,

and we breathe in life,

like a hungry balloon.

Walking gives us the perfect visual

of the spiritual journey…

Sometimes there are bumps to avoid

and hills to climb

or descend.

We are careful not to trip.

Along the way, 

we notice things –

the beauty of the trees,

the dogs being walked,

the smiles of our neighbors.

Walking gives our minds a chance

to wander, too –

to ponder the deep things

while our legs do their work.

On this particular journey,

my love, in a pensive moment,

content with his journey,

and the thoughts nourishing,

looked down.

On the ground was a paper,

and like a message from the beyond,

it spoke these words:

I am Love.”

And just like that,

everything connected.

His heart soared skyward and

the message was received

deeply blessing his soul.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018

I Am Love

Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

Acquainted With Grief

Somewhere between meeting the new

and releasing the comfortable

there will always be grief.

It is that separation thing

that is oh, so inevitable –

and as predictable as 

melting ice cream.

It is the tug along the way 

that pulls at the heart,

sometimes tearing it painfully –

leaving scars that 

mark the spot.

Nothing lasts –

or so it seems.

It takes a lifetime to figure this out.

Eventually, we learn

that grief is the price of love –

given and received.

I bump into grief every day.

When I see it in another,

its embers are sparked in me 

and the familiar ache of it all

shows up,

reminding me of its 

ready presence,

pouncing on me,

like a mugger on a morning walk.

Grief has an I get it quality

when witnessed in another…

Our earthly existence

comes with loss

woven deeply into its tapestry.

We can see it in each other’s faces –

when we dare to look up.

Loss is the glue 

that connects us

and joins us together. 

Some think God causes this sadness

as if to manipulate us

to devotion

by bringing us to our knees

with heartache.

I disagree.

To me, God is all trust and love

with an unimaginable capacity

for wisdom and compassion –

and is not the cause

of our suffering.

If anything, God gets it –

suffers and grieves with us ,

weeping as we weep.

God knows that the answer

to grief

is the loving embrace –

the one we share with one another,

and the one 

God gives with

Everlasting Arms –

through us.

We are not alone,

ever.

This must be realized.

When it comes to grief,

and life (as it turns out)…

well, we are in it together –

and once we get off the floor,

after extreme loss has arrived,

we can move forward,

side by side,

learning a deepening resilience

together.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018

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Poem · Poetry

Be Still And Know

Everyone has their special brand

of distraction and

dis-ease – that state of mind

that disguises and deters from

all the goodness

right in front of us.

Sometimes,

just stop yourself.

Tell that wrangling mind

Enough already!”

And then,

do the shift.

Laugh a little, and

forgive yourself for being

quite human.

And then trust that

you can heal yourself

with right thinking…

for your suffering –

no matter what it is,

comes from all the stories

you have made up

in your mind.

That stuff is not real –

but the pain that comes,

is.

Focus, instead,

on what is true.

Your job is to open yourself to

the things that last –

and to hold onto 

those principles

with your whole being.

When you learn this,

the problems disappear

and you are 

whole again.

Stop living the fiction

and arise to become

who you really are.

This is where your freedom is.

Be well –

with all your heart,

and your mind, too.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, June 2018

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