Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

Catching Myself

 

There you are.

I see you now in the burst of the flower,

the color yellow blessing my eyes

with new and fresh joy.

Instantly, the lift is back

and I rest in the wonder of Presence.

My heart quickens with the reminder that

you are everywhere…

ready to be seen with

a never-ending invitation to

wakefulness.

I am finally learning how

the one who leaves

is never you.

You are as close as my in breath –

that breath that gets neglected

in the constant pant

of unnecessary busyness.

When I catch my breath,

I catch you. 

 

Life is always instructing me.

Just yesterday, I read these words:

              Worry is a misuse of imagination.

It was just the right message at

just the right time.

I am glad I noticed it.

It could have just slipped past me…

and it made me question

what else I might have missed

along the way…

I thank you for these reminders.

So simple they are

once grasped.

I realize once again,

and repeatedly,

that you are never far away

and that the barriers

to my learning and freedom

are of my own creation.

There is no blame for this –

I do understand.

As blame is just another unhelpful distraction –

another layer blocking me from you.

 

To live this precious life,

I must stop piling on the layers

so I can unfold into the naked beauty

of a fully bloomed flower

basking in the glow of the sun.

And where you are,

so will I be.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2019

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Poem · Poetry

Between

Between my hand

and your hand –

between doing

and being –

between yes

and no –

between the beat of the heart

and what the eyes see…

there is space.

Its gift is as big 

or as small

as is our ability to be awake

to the quiet that reveals it.

One knows when they have encountered

a soul who is 

acquainted with this space.

For to be in their presence,

is to be

showered with unconditional Love,

grace and attention.

Souls who have done the work,

know deeply that

our travels in life

are best navigated when

there is no rush

between this

and that.

Life is best lived with joy

when our inner brake

is awake

and effective

and we are watchful

of the spaces.

So, be alert to the openings.

Honor them.

The dance of life awaits.

Ask yourself this –

             what lies between each breath taken?

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018

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Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

I Can See Who You Are

We hustle.

We bustle.

We cover up.

We avoid.

In the constant press forward,

the moments are lost.

When able to still ourselves,

we can catch glimpses of 

what is real.

I sat with a patient,

one of the sweet ones

with dementia.

Her eyes alive

with love and openness…

Her speech cute and senseless

most of the time.

I am present to her

and focus on being –

instead of doing.

When the time for goodbye comes,

I touch her shoulder

and lean in.

Her eyes widen

as these words spill forth

in clarity and affection:

           “I can see who you are!”

Grace finds me

and I am blessed by her glimpse.

I am reminded…

I am Love.

Copyright@ Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018

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Poem · Poetry

In the Right Light

My Love points the camera

towards me

and I playfully resist…

“Take my picture outside

and from that preferred angle, my dear.

It makes a more flattering picture.”

I look in the mirror

and the bathroom light is on dimmer…

All I can see are wrinkles!

I change the brightness in the room

and my image improves.

I find my smile.

My Love, the Artist, 

paints a lovely picture.

He uses reflective paints that

need the right angle and intensity

of illumination.

He tilts his creation my way –

in the right light –

its beauty deepens.

All these are glimpses

of an important lesson:

How we see things

is shaped by 

the type of light we shine on 

what is before us.

To see clearly,

be aware of your beam.

For life is dimmed

and perception is affected

by gloom.

To brighten,

simply flick the switch

and tilt towards it.

Observe the changes.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018

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Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

The Gray

 

It seems easier

when what feels clear and true

is always right, too.

It is a comfort

when the ground on which

we stand and build upon

has the strength

of generations

or habit.

We like our side of the street.

The other side

is far away, and

difficult to see.

It is not important to us.

For all is clear where we are.

It feels safe and protected.

In between these sharp edges

of clarity

is the territory

of the gray.

It is a fuzzier place.

The ground seems shakier.

We are repelled by it –

but, at times,

a bit curious, too.

Mostly,

we prefer familiar ground.

Thankfully, life ends up instructing us

along the way,

through hardship and insight,

to be more open to the gray.

Our edges get worn down

and are revealed to us

as false structures.

In the middle,

is the place of softening

and opening up.

It is the place of meeting –

of healing.

Life is less

black and white

in the gray.

There are new choices to explore,

colors to adore.

When we can learn

to embrace

this middle place,

wisdom is born,

along with a letting go

which liberates

and brings us together.

When we enter the gray,

we have learned the value

of dropping

what does not matter.

Copyright@ Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018

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Poem · Poetry

Each One, A Mountain

Everyone has something

It is a mantra that is inwardly voiced

more and more

as I get older.

We each have our own brand of challenge.

As life progresses,

these challenges unfold

and introduce themselves.

Sometimes they swallow us up

with the force of a big ocean wave…

Or, they might creep upon us

like a spreading mold.

We get to choose 

how to respond

when our personal mountain

shows up.

For some,

the mountain may be too vast

to climb alone –

so we bring loving souls with us.

For others,

the mountain may be a series of hills

which warrants a solo journey –

each vista building strength within.

We may fool ourselves, thinking

that our mountain 

is bigger than anyone else’s –

that somehow,

our mountain warrants

special attention…

But as we mature,

and build our climbing muscles,

our compassionate heart opens,

our personal nature fades,

and our vision widens

to see what others endure.

Our climbing becomes

the road to awakening

to what this life 

is all about.

Yes, we each have a mountain –

especially designed for our own unfolding…

but as we meet it,

with grace and courage,

the vista that comes,

connects us to the 

suffering of others.

This is the stuff of

a life well-lived.

So, I bow to my mountain –

giving thanks for its lessons…

for without its presence,

I would walk with blinders on,

tripping on my own feet,

and all alone.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018

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