Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

Mosaic Moments

 

Transitions increase a felt wistfulness.

We look back

and long for

what worked before.

Those pieces of us that

like routine and

the comfort of the predictable –

well, those parts feel sharp

in such seasons –

the edges hurt.

And yet, there is the buzz –

the bubbling energy of the new,

of possibility.

There are new faces to greet,

new tasks to learn and

fresh ways to open the heart

and to be.

Life is

as life does-

and its mysteries inspire and instruct.

Its best when 

there is a mix of things

for the creative touch of God is genius

and multi-dimensional.

So, even when loss

is the larger piece at the time,

there will always be the sparkle

and felt presence

of grace, of love … even joy.

When awake,

we can wonder at and

give thanks for 

the whole design of it all.

We see our piece in the creation.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2019

Gratitude for Anne Lamott and her coining of the term, “mosaic moments” in her recent book, Almost Everything.

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Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

God’s Reach

 

Sometimes I feel as if

I am in a favorite pocket of yours.

Once and a while, 

you reach in and touch me –

and I am remembered again.

You may adjust me a bit,

smoothing my edges and

moving me about inside the pocket,

your touch comforting 

as you bring me to new places

for my learning.

 

When the moment is right,

you lift me up and out

and I feel the rush of freedom knitted with

the warmth of grace

as you hold me in your hand.

You look at me,

and I look at you.

And I remember again 

what home feels like.

Then you place me back

into your pocket

for easy reaching later.

 

I am your treasure

and in your keeping –

you keep me safe from harm.

One day, I know

your lift up

and into the light

will mean I get to stay.

My vision will be clear then

and so will my reflection

of you.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2019

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Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

Lighted From Within

 

Oh, the view that blesses

when the horizon glows

whether morning or evening.

The bright moon in the distance

also inspires

as it illuminates the soul.

Seeing light from a distance

is an invitation

that instructs…

For I can wander in the darkness

for days

or even months…

but when the light enters in

from afar,

a new energy

begins to germinate again

as its beams touch me.

I become sprouted and fed –

even if only for a bit.

These glimpses provide for me.

As I grow and heal

and new branches form –

stretching me beyond

all the ways and limits –

daring to ignore the broken places –

the glow given grows.

I know healing has arrived

when I have less need

of the horizon

and all its sparkling colors.

Sure, the hues and brilliance

still are a gift and reminder…

They show me what lies deep within me –

the colors that shine and beam

through me

in a never ending way.

I am lighted from within

and I know where to look

when I need the horizon.

 

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018

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Poem · Poetry

Entering the Dance

When the winds are shifting,

and change is here,

I sometimes shudder with

fear, which blankets my heart

in a covering so itchy…

the restlessness it brings

grows like a cancer,

consuming health.

I wonder out loud,

and through every pore –

my cells scream

            No!

The resistance builds a wall

around my soul,

and I begin to hide.

I grieve…

the tears wash over

all the tensions and aches,

bringing yet another baptism.

Eventually, I remember

that changes bring a

kind of birthing process…

and I know there is

something beautiful coming

after this pain.

I love how tears

release and inform

all at once – as if

we must break, deeply –

apart and before

we can be refashioned.

These very insights, eventually

bring gratitude.

I know,

it does’t make sense

to the logical mind…

but it is the dance of Spirit

within and beyond me.

When I learn to 

accept the invitation to 

the dance of life,

letting go of my need to 

lead it,

I get lighter on my feet,

and my being

finally hears the music

and is wrapped in comfort  

and delight.

I am set free.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018

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Poem · Poetry

Each One, A Mountain

Everyone has something

It is a mantra that is inwardly voiced

more and more

as I get older.

We each have our own brand of challenge.

As life progresses,

these challenges unfold

and introduce themselves.

Sometimes they swallow us up

with the force of a big ocean wave…

Or, they might creep upon us

like a spreading mold.

We get to choose 

how to respond

when our personal mountain

shows up.

For some,

the mountain may be too vast

to climb alone –

so we bring loving souls with us.

For others,

the mountain may be a series of hills

which warrants a solo journey –

each vista building strength within.

We may fool ourselves, thinking

that our mountain 

is bigger than anyone else’s –

that somehow,

our mountain warrants

special attention…

But as we mature,

and build our climbing muscles,

our compassionate heart opens,

our personal nature fades,

and our vision widens

to see what others endure.

Our climbing becomes

the road to awakening

to what this life 

is all about.

Yes, we each have a mountain –

especially designed for our own unfolding…

but as we meet it,

with grace and courage,

the vista that comes,

connects us to the 

suffering of others.

This is the stuff of

a life well-lived.

So, I bow to my mountain –

giving thanks for its lessons…

for without its presence,

I would walk with blinders on,

tripping on my own feet,

and all alone.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018

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