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

adult-air-beautiful-321576

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

window

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

birds flocking in dark sky

Poem · Poetry

The Body Knows

Oh, the tattletale that lives within

that whispers all my secrets!

I wear my thoughts and habits

visibly

and in the sea of tension

that seems at constant

high tide

filling up all my spaces

and flexing my muscles

long after their work is done.

Reversing this tide

and harnessing my inner moon

is a daily task

that calls –

like music calls to my heart,

or insight calls to my pen.

I have to ask myself:

What is this inner grip, this tension

really all about?

I have a magic tool

which will help me to know.

I stop. I breathe. I listen.

The body knows.

With amazing patience,

it waits for me.

Copyright@ Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2017

body meditating on beach

Poem · Poetry

Taking the Bow

 

Like a flower,

I can take a bow at the end of the day

and rest when the sun rests.

Like a cat,

I can curl up on the couch

and tune out the world

until nourishment or play calls to me.

Like yeast,

stick me in a warm place for a spell

and cover me up

until my energy

rises again into beautiful form.

Even God took a day off.

The silliness of it all

makes me chuckle –

how I have bought into

constant striving

and pushing.

Humility is a gift

and a teacher.

I am finally learning

the wonder and intelligence

of rest.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2017

SUNFLOWERS AT SUNSET