Tag: presence
Then Sings My Soul
When wanting meets realization
and dis-ease catches a glimpse
of healing,
my eyes spring open –
and I can see, once again,
how You are right here,
right here.
Life is a beautiful dance.
The music always plays,
with You leading my steps,
and I, in faith, following,
sometimes tripping along-
crying or laughing my way forward –
humbled by my missteps,
and blessed when I move
with grace.
Nevertheless,
and more and more,
I realize,
when I look up
from my preoccupation with
my own feet,
You are here,
You are here.
The dance we share
is as reliable as Life itself.
and its music
floats my heart skyward
as my soul
breaks into song.
Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018
Pure Presence
You look at me with eyes of love
and complete attention.
You gracefully place your body
next to mine,
molding into me
for complete contact.
There is no space between us –
only pure presence.
As you relax and soften,
so do I.
Your purr
motors my heart to joy.
Your headbutts
nudge me firmly to awaken
to the affection in this moment.
Your eyes,
your eyes…
invite me to deepen
and embrace the music
hidden in my heart.
You bring God to me
and I am blessed.
I love you for that.
Eventually, you move away
to what is next for you.
Your work is done.
Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018
Finding the Poem
It comes in the quiet of the morning,
or sometimes on a walk among the trees.
Like a tender bud,
it germinates inside my heart,
until it must be born.
I write
because this process
brings me closer to God –
to the very spark of life
within me.
I write
because when I do,
I am blessed with the very Presence
I seek every moment.
I write
because my restless soul
comes alive when my words
enliven a page.
I write
because it touches you,
and in sharing my voice,
my purpose is born.
I write,
because I must.
Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018
Before Going In
You are not on stage
so there is no need to
put on a face –
to pretend, fluff
or get nervous.
You are not seeking applause.
Rather than putting anything on
or assuming a role,
you do the opposite.
Before going in,
you execute a
disappearing act.
None of this is about you.
This is your job:
be a light
be a vessel
be a mirror that
reflects Love.
Healing and presence
will show up
if you can get out of the way.
Step aside.
Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018
Begin With the Ending
You have already started your curtain call
and now we show up
with our unpunched tickets in hand.
Meeting you at this point
is like being presented with a gift
that has already been opened –
loved and appreciated for years –
and ready to be tucked away
for safe keeping.
All our hellos
have built in goodbyes to them.
The door to you opens
and begins closing
all at once.
We know this going in.
Time is short
and momentous.
It forces an instant connection
that is felt both ways.
We understand the courage it takes
for you at this point,
to drop your guard so quickly
for a bunch of strangers
who want to help.
And you do.
And we do.
In a way, it is kind of magical.
The delicate intimacy
that comes with sharing your ending
teaches us.
Teaches you to let go
in a meaningful way,
and teaches us what
letting go looks like.
We love this about
being with you.
Thank you for allowing us
to cut in
and share your final dance.
We promise to help you
finish it well.
Please take the lead
and show us your steps.
We will follow you
and share your curtain call.
Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018
Count It All Joy
He laid in his hospital bed
set up next to his wife’s bed –
his hands contracted
and useless,
his body dependent
on the help of others –
just to move at all,
or eat, or even
brush his teeth.
This bed has been his dwelling place
for over five years,
his disease shrinking and stiffening his body,
rendering his muscles
unworkable –
keeping him confined,
and stuck.
He is one of my favorite patients.
His eyes always sparkle,
his mind is unfailingly engaged,
his words ever generous.
“I am a lucky guy.”
This is the song he sings
no matter what pain may be present
or loss on the forefront.
“I have no complaints.”
Before him,
on his bookcase,
are about 50 journal books
he has filled
with reflections and illustrations
of his weekly walks in the woods
as he observed and gloried
in the wonders of nature.
“Nature used to be my religion.
And then I found God.”
This was life pre-diagnosis.
When I look at him,
a prisoner in his bed and so small,
I am grateful
he had a former life
of movement and joy
in Nature and beyond this room.
“I am a lucky guy,”
he states again and again,
and I marvel at
how he glows.
He has an understanding
that I hope is within reach for me.
He knows
that everyone has “something”
and this is his.
“The way I figure it,” he states,
“God put me here for a reason.
And when anyone comes to see me,
I hope I can be a light for them.
I hope I can make them happy.”
He radiates
effortlessly and profoundly
and I cannot help
but be changed.
He shows me the way
to what is real.
I begin to understand
the gift of joy
in all circumstances
and the suffering that comes
with resisting
what lies before us.
As I say goodbye,
He says,
“I hope I will see you again.”
I smile.
Oh, you will.
You will.
Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018
Eyes of Love
You look so put together
with everything in place
and sparkly.
You are a treat for tired eyes.
But I know better
than to be fooled by the surface of things.
Sometimes what appears on the outside
is the opposite
of what is on the inside.
We are crafty in our hiding ways.
So I open myself up
to the depths of you.
My eyes look past the veneer.
We could pretend –
play a game of make believe
and pretend the surface
is all there is.
It is, after all,
how most of us operate.
We barely even look at each other.
But who wants to live like that?
It makes my heart ache
at the thought
that what we see
is all there is.
No.
“Go deep!”
This is the call of the heart
and the work of Love
in our midst.
I will always be willing
to pull back the pretty curtain
and dare to see
what is true within.
Otherwise,
what is the point?
I am here for you,
ready to see
and to listen.
Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2017
Don’t Let Go
Like a warm blanket
takes the chill away
from my weighted shoulders,
your Presence is sweet comfort.
When alert,
I catch glimpses of you,
and they are just enough
to enliven
that inner pilot light
you so gracefully set
to burn within me.
Sometimes it burns fiercely
and then I know –
that is what flames are meant to do.
You are with me all the time.
You are my inner light,
waiting to flame up
every time I dare
to share its healing energy.
I surrender to the flame,
to its powerful glow,
trusting that
when the chill dares to set in
from time to time –
when I manage to turn away
for a minute
or a month,
you will wrap me up in your
inviting Presence,
hold me close,
and re-light the flame.
Don’t let go.
Copyright © Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2017
Singing a New Song
Not sure how it happened
whether it was gradual
or sudden.
I wish I could remember
the moment it all changed –
when my voice no longer matched
the person that I am.
Suddenly,
it hurt to speak –
not only physically,
but existentially.
It has been a painful five years.
Do you know what it is like
to hate the sound of your own voice?
To feel the inward disdain
and embarrassment?
To see the expressions of others change
when you dare to speak?
To bravely express yourself despite it all
and then to feel the pain of faulty speech patterns?
It has a way of shutting a person up,
holding you back.
But now I have hope again,
hope of a voice that sings effortlessly,
a voice that is a joy to listen to,
lilting and silky,
warm and welcoming –
powerful in its message and impact,
comforting and present.
I have hope of healing
the incongruence
of who I am and how I sound.
You see,
I have all this love in my heart
and a soul that needs expression.
Now that I am getting real help with my voice problem,
my whole life is opening up
to what I can be and do
as a beneficial presence for others.
Let the healing commence.
I am in!
Copyright © @ Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2017
Becoming and Beholding 