Putting Words Around the Unfolding
The babbling brook that
is the stream of life, passes
before me,
its eternal and purposeful movement,
effortlessly dancing –
its whispers inviting me
into the water.
I sit on the shore,
afraid to get wet –
mistaken by the idea
that in staying dry,
I can somehow
avoid the discomfort and uncertainty
of change –
when in actuality,
I am delaying my
ongoing baptism into Life.
In this moment,
I dip my toe back in.
Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018
When a situation suddenly
and without expectation –
turns
in a healing direction,
your heart wants to sing.
For you had lost hope,
and could not see
what you could do to
help.
And here it is –
the needed change
on the way…
The joy of it is
bright.
Your gratitude starts to bubble
up.
It starts deep in your stomach,
then springs to your heart –
opens it wide,
and sets it on fire.
Next, it flies up through your vocal chords,
making sweet vibrations.
It is a song that
must be sung.
So, on the wings of a grateful
heart,
your song passes
through your lips and
dances off your tongue:
“I SEE YOU.”
Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018
Here I go again,
getting lost in the tangle of
outward motivations which
lead me away –
like an excited child
pulling on my arm –
Come this way!
But my wisdom within says,
Not so fast.
You have been here before, remember?
We play this game over and over
until finally,
we are done playing.
We are ready for change.
Like Jacob wrestling with the angel,
we finally get blessed with divine insight
into who we are,
and the exhaustion of repeated patterns
falls away.
Here is the truth of it all:
we come to God
through suffering or wisdom –
and sometimes both.
Most of the time,
we create our own suffering.
So, my child,
Learn to trust your
inner light.
You were born with it,
and it waits for you to listen
to its guidance.
Be patient with how it flickers
until you are ready
for its full shining.
Go gently on your path,
and keep your eyes open.
Forgive your missteps along the way.
Just keep moving forward.
And whatever you do,
do not close.
For your light cannot shine,
if your shades are drawn
and you will keep tripping in your darkness.
Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018
It comes in the quiet of the morning,
or sometimes on a walk among the trees.
Like a tender bud,
it germinates inside my heart,
until it must be born.
I write
because this process
brings me closer to God –
to the very spark of life
within me.
I write
because when I do,
I am blessed with the very Presence
I seek every moment.
I write
because my restless soul
comes alive when my words
enliven a page.
I write
because it touches you,
and in sharing my voice,
my purpose is born.
I write,
because I must.
Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018
Facing a blank page
waiting for inspiration
is akin to the early morning hours –
when no one else is up,
not even the sun.
Its newness and freshness
has a daunting yet hopeful quality.
I simply love the mornings.
And now I am learning to love
the empty page.
Just like each day,
there are times
when I falter,
filling the white space with nonsense
and disappointing myself.
But when creativity shows up,
when I am engaged in the flow
of divine connection,
nothing else matters.
I have found Presence
once again.
If only each moment
could be like this!
And then I remember,
yes.
Each moment can.
I just need to stay awake
and get out of my own way.
Copyright@ Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2017
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
It is the strangest thing
when a poem takes over.
Kidnapped by it,
sometimes it lifts me above
to broaden my view –
or it can
lean me forward
with such focus,
everything else falls away
except the nub of it all.
Expanding and contracting,
I breathe the poem
and it breathes me.
We are one,
locked in a gentle tussle
until it is time
for the poem to be born.
I never thought of myself
as a poet.
It feels like a gift
given to an infant –
like a mobile hanging above a crib,
like a toy
to keep me busy
and broaden my senses –
to show me who I am
and help me
find my words.
There is an awkwardness –
but also,
deep joy
and a radiance that
nourishes.
I have come to rely
on my poems.
They are a gift
akin to the blessing
of having a loving parent
whose embrace
shows me the way.
Copyright © Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2017
Not sure how it happened
whether it was gradual
or sudden.
I wish I could remember
the moment it all changed –
when my voice no longer matched
the person that I am.
Suddenly,
it hurt to speak –
not only physically,
but existentially.
It has been a painful five years.
Do you know what it is like
to hate the sound of your own voice?
To feel the inward disdain
and embarrassment?
To see the expressions of others change
when you dare to speak?
To bravely express yourself despite it all
and then to feel the pain of faulty speech patterns?
It has a way of shutting a person up,
holding you back.
But now I have hope again,
hope of a voice that sings effortlessly,
a voice that is a joy to listen to,
lilting and silky,
warm and welcoming –
powerful in its message and impact,
comforting and present.
I have hope of healing
the incongruence
of who I am and how I sound.
You see,
I have all this love in my heart
and a soul that needs expression.
Now that I am getting real help with my voice problem,
my whole life is opening up
to what I can be and do
as a beneficial presence for others.
Let the healing commence.
I am in!
Copyright © @ Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2017
Becoming and Beholding 