Poem · Poetry

Calming the Outer Storm

It is a slow creep –

the way the stress of life builds.

We live bombarded

by the need to rush,

bending over backwards

to meet the demands.

The expectations given

feed our perfectionistic patterns

and we get lost

by the constant doing.

That is what living from the outside

is like.

It exhausts and

makes us into fools

who think we are being productive.

To live from within,

one must commit to

slowing the pace, and

nix the needy drive

that cares too much

what others think and believe –

that invests in having

and holding

all the things

that make us look good.

True peace resides

where inner knowing lives –

blanketed by what is true,

and by the power

of the unseen.

Living from the inside

means listening to

the whispers underneath –

the voice that beckons

and seeks to heal us –

Take a walk on the beach.

Let your feet crunch a wooden path.

Allow a cat to rest in your lap.

Bow your head and offer a prayer.

Observe and honor a compassionate moment.

These are places where the whispers await…

To live from the outside

is to get lost

in the whirlwind of

the superficial.

But to live from the inside

is to be fueled by

purpose and

to be connected to

a larger dimension –

a place that 

too few find.

Love is the main thing, of course.

It is the thread that connects us

at the soul

to God’s heart.

The only way to find peace

on this weary planet of ours

is to realize

that each one of us

is born to be free.

Our job and journey

is to discover that.

When we do,

the peace within

which passes all understanding

will bless us 

and enable us to be a blessing

for others.

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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Poem · Poetry

Big Girl Pants

I noticed her struggle.

It was one of those days when

the burden of work, life, and

responsibility 

made her bow low,

even as she quickly moved about.

She was weary –

maybe even in pain,

her eyes with the dark circles below which

appear regularly now,

despite daily application

of concealer.

She kept going,

kept producing,

despite her burden.

                  I’ve got my big girl pants on, she said.

I could empathize

because I get tired, too.

I understand how hard it is to stop

and just be –

to observe the blessings

along the way.

Perhaps one of the perks 

of getting old

is that as responsibilities

and requirements

fall away,

we can finally 

rest.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018

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Poem · Poetry

The Turn

Today when I drove to work,

a window opened.

Instead of racing in my thoughts

about the day

and all the angst about

getting things done,

I took a breath.

Not a mindless one,

but a deep, conscious,

life-giving one.

And then I took another,

and a few more after that.

Then I could see again.

I could see how much tension

lived in me.

I could feel the tightness

loosen.

I looked out around me,

and I noticed the trees,

the smiles of others,

the beauty of the day.

All this,

from remembering to breathe!

Oh, I grieve the patterns and traps

of the mind

and its constant power

to distract from the good of life-

its endless power

to keep us busy and off track.

Grant me breath, O God,

and gleaming windows.

Help me to turn my attention

and see!

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018

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Poem · Poetry

Impending Storm

A cloud of geese fly

overhead and in circles

and it mirrors

the dis-ease inside of me

as I wait.

I know it is coming –

the discomfort and pain,

the lack of ease.

The impact.

The busyness of preparations

somehow comforts.

But the inside grip

tightens.

Some people enjoy

a storm.

Its drama enlivens.

I am learning to be

separate from it.

So I imagine

that I am the sky.

I expand to embrace

and observe…

the storm happens

but I am separate from it.

This way,

storms can be more

a wonder to behold

and I am not in them.

I am in

but not of

the weather.

I can be the sky.

Copyright @ Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2017

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