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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Poem · Poetry

All The Ways

All the ways,

I hide from You…

All the ways,

I run.

The wisdom within

continues to wait, to instruct, but –

all the ways

stay stuck.

I fool myself daily, thinking

all the ways 

work for me.

They seem to make sense

on the surface, but

living with them

and holding onto them,

trips me up.

I long for 

all Your ways…

all Your ways of freedom

of grace,

of truth,

of Love.

I catch glimpses of these.

Sometimes, I am actually 

held by their vision,

warmed by their touch,

inspired and lifted

by their presence.

In those moments,

I remember

all the ways

You are present, and

then I know

all the ways

to be.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018

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Poem · Poetry

The Gift of Understanding

I had a desire,

a prayer, really –

of how it should go.

My doubting heart considered it wishful thinking.

But the courage within won 

and I expressed it, anyway –

not caring if I looked,

or sounded, foolish.

And then,

when the moment arrived,

my prayer was answered,

            just like that, 

exactly as imagined.

It seemed an effortless occurrence

and had the quality of

           of course this is how it should go…

I was blown away, warmed up, lit up, and loved –

completely – and all at once

in that moment.

This is what a sudden dawning feels like.

I wondered at how

it wasn’t even a formal prayer –

with head bowed low,

spoken in desperation or

pious humility.

But I did speak it from my heart

and out loud

               to You –

and I shared it with others.

It must have counted…

because it was realized.

I know now,

ever more deeply, that

You are here,

with me,

and in this life of mine.

And when I look back,

I see your traces –

your hand,

your heart,

molding, leading, comforting,

ever more clearly.

I am like a baby playing peek-a-boo…

the joy of discovery

brings me intense happiness.

You are here.

I can see you!

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018

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