Putting Words Around the Unfolding
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Cynthia Stanton
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
I take it in,
all the goodness
I can wrap myself around.
I take it in,
and I hold it dear.
I let it crowd and smother
the junk that remains
from all past hurts and loss.
I push these out and out.
There is no time for clinging to old hurts.
There is only room
for the good things.
So I sweep and dust,
sort and toss.
I keep a tidy home
in this heart of mine.
No matter the weather outside,
despite all storms and struggle
which rattle the windows,
no matter any darkness looming,
nothing is glued to me
but that which nurtures and lightens.
Whatever is not worth keeping
passes through me
as if through a window.
Of course I see it as it passes…
I do notice the unpleasant winds
and the damage they can produce –
but I don’t let them blow me over.
There is plenty else to own,
to cherish,
to foster.
These things are knit to the bone
so I can remain steady on my feet.
Growing older grants this
wisdom of discernment.
I finally know
how to welcome the light that shows up –
even if it is just a flicker.
This is what I take in and cradle with tenderness.
This is how I shine from within
and build resilience.
Copyright@Cynthia Cady Stanton, June 2022
Examine everything carefully; hold fast to that which is good.
1 Thessalonians 5: 21
I realize there’s something incredibly honest about trees in winter, how they’re experts at letting things go.
Jeffrey McDaniel
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
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
With an abundance of time,
I can get a bit lost.
I am used to being driven
by duty,
with all its necessary tasks
keeping me busy.
But I am not so needed
right now –
or so it seems.
Reluctantly, I learn to be grateful
for the quiet,
the stillness that is always underneath.
I sit and open to it.
Once rested and
pretty soon,
my eyes begin to catch a vision
while my heart bubbles forth
with an effervescent song.
Its music is an invitation to grow –
to gather all the pieces
and moments
of wisdom, pain, and insight that
have been stacking in the corners –
to sit with them
and to honor their sacredness.
As I look back to review them,
the melody of their song
begins to weave together.
It travels in and through me,
bringing lightness and energy
to my searching heart.
The music floats up into my awareness
and sings to me:
You know how to knit all this together.
Trust what has been given to you.
The words form into a melody
only I can hear.
I can see now that
there is a song to be born, and
I have been invited
to sing it.
My feet become light
as I learn dance
to a new tune.
Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, May 2020
“To love someone is to learn the song in their heart and to sing it to them when they have forgotten.” – Arne Garbing
Becoming and Beholding 