Tag: reflection
Under the Weather
Nothing like a virus
to help you appreciate
normal breathing.
Wheeze, sputter
blow, cough.
Normal comes to a stop.
Voice exercises?
Ha!
Good luck with that.
My pipes are clogged –
making my voice
sound like a cat about
to hurl a hairball.
Hydrate, hydrate.
Rest and sleep –
Being sick sucks.
I am not good
at slowing down –
interrupting my patterns.
I prefer to stay on track
to be in my well-crafted groove.
Huh.
Damn.
Maybe that is the point.
More tea, Honey?
Copyright © Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2017
Morning Walk
We are built to move
the way a bird is built to fly
or a flower is built to bloom.
Sleep has a way of stiffening us –
setting us in our ways and patterns
long in place –
like a mold we conform to.
Heck,
the couch can do the same
as it swallows us.
But a morning walk
can loosen
broaden,
unfold and inspire.
I literally start my day
by moving forward.
I spring out of bed
for this.
Copyright © Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2017
What If?
You know that time
when you put your phone down
so you could attend to me instead?
Or that moment when I was starving,
and about to eat my 20 gram protein bar in the car
but saw a homeless man in the intersection,
and chose to go hungry –
handing him the bar through my open window
with a smile
and no regrets.
Or, how about
that day when I was terribly hurt and angry
and simply let it all go,
suddenly, and with faith and forgiveness
so I could refocus
on something larger than me,
beyond the anger
and the suffocating hurt.
Both just disappeared into a peaceful feeling.
There is a thread –
powerful in its connection
through these moments.
It seems to show
that when we step aside –
dare another way,
beautiful things can happen.
It makes me wonder…
What if?
What if God is the thread?
And the thread connects us to Love
And, well, everything that matters?
And what if God needs us?
Needs us to get out of our own way
and notice the thread?
What if
WE MAKE GOD HAPPEN?
Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2017
Blessed Assurance
No more a need
to solve, cling, or do.
I am done with all that.
Breathe.
Just be.
I turn my attention outward
trusting that inwardly,
I am whole.
This is an important shift
and not one that is
familiar –
a down shift,
into trust –
rather than constant acceleration.
True freedom comes in
letting go of the wheel,
not needing to see the road ahead.
Gradually, I am learning to be
more of a passenger.
It is strange how unfamiliar it feels.
I have learned so deeply
to be on my own,
driving solo.
But I repeatedly follow the wrong directions
being the simple human
I have learned to be,
confused by which GPS to heed.
Now I call upon my divine nature.
It has taken decades to
own it.
Such a beautiful feeling…
to know it is not all
up to me –
that no map is needed.
A look back
in the rear view mirror
confirms.
All is well –
and has been all along the way.
Blessed be.
Copyright © @Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2017
She Kept to Her Schedule
I remember a time
when time was not just another consumable,
and moments were embraced
instead of thrown away by distraction
and the addiction to over-doing.
A time when moments were moments
and clocks were wall decorations,
their faces barely noticed.
There was no inward push
or unrelenting need to get from here to there,
to check off this list or that.
I remember a time
when moments unfolded
with youthful joy and presence.
That was eons ago.
When did keeping time morph into losing it?
We schedule, we plan, we run around getting things done
and in a flash, another day is done.
Do the morning routine,
get the workout in,
clean up and put on the public face and accessories,
suffer the commute,
work long hours,
scrape together some nutrition,
eat fast and mindlessly,
catch up with social media,
the news,
go to bed.
Then try to sleep with a restless mind in full gear,
still ticking through your list.
Get up.
Do it all over again.
Time is spent.
But not wisely.
Life is short.
We all say it,
but few of us get it
until we get to be fifty something
and our friends start getting sick and dying.
Life is really short!
What if we get to the end of our life,
and this is what our tombstone says:
“Loving mother and wife. She kept to her schedule.”
Ouch.
We must learn the art of The Stop.
Stop the inner push that moves us forward
into the next thing
when we have not even experienced
what is before us
right now.
How many times have I been so busy planning
that I forget to notice
what is in my current vision?
How many times have I missed the colors, the beauty, the scents
the loved one next to me
because I am in my head
instead of my moment?
How many times have I pretended to listen
while I get something else accomplished simultaneously?
How often did I forget to look into your eyes
to see the longing
or the love there?
We are taught to do
instead of to be.
We are deceived into believing
that filling up our days with busyness
means we are doing well in life.
It is not true.
We must stop.
Push the pause button as often as possible.
Notice. Relish. Honor. Appreciate.
Embrace fully
as if our life depended on it,
because it does.
Otherwise, we spend our life
like we are on a credit card binge
which leaves us empty and bankrupt
in the end.
Life is short.
Copyright © Cynthia Cady Stanton 2017
Structure
Limping again
with another broken bone.
A repeat injury
only this time
on the other side
as if it had to happen
for a symmetry in the lesson.
I am feeling a little picked on.
Feet are important
for grounding and balance.
Standing is now clumsy and awkward
with one foot in a walking cast.
Walking is even worse.
I am forced to slow down.
Is God toying with me?
Forcing me to look at what I am made of
and what kind of condition I am in?
Now there is talk of potential disease
a thinning of my bones,
a weakness that clearly has been hidden
until this year.
All this makes me feel old
and envious of all those effortless walkers
out there.
I have heard that healing
can make us stronger in our weak spots.
I hope this is true.
And now that I have run out of feet,
perhaps I can get grounded again.
Copyright © Cynthia Cady Stanton 2017
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
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
New Ground
The pull of patterns weighs me down
and sucks me in
to that space that agitates
and darkens the room
keeping me from the lightness
that beckons deeply.
Even with you,
though I longed to be next to you
after seasons apart,
what is new and better and different
struggles to shine.
We settle for old and familiar,
the constrictions
set long ago.
I want you to know me.
Not the me you think you know,
but the evolving me
that dares to bloom
even at my age,
when most settle for being set.
I’m not.
I am a dynamic canvas.
Copyright © 2017 Cynthia Cady Stanton
Becoming and Beholding 