Weather

March 23, 2020May 28, 2021 becomingandbeholding1 Comment

When fear is everywhere,

take a breath.

Remind yourself that

as real as the fear feels,

it is a passing storm.

You can see it but

you don’t belong to it.

Remember that you are not the weather.

You are the sky.

We can choose to be blown away

and knocked off our feet…

or we can choose

to have the compassionate and wise view from above.

We can be observant

while holding on to

who we really are.

Only by holding fast to the good in us –

our expansive being –

can we truly be helpful

or even present.

So, keep your eyes open

while patiently riding it out.

Don’t allow yourself to get knocked over

or sucked into the whirlwind.

Be ever-present and calm

just like the blue sky

which endures every storm.

“I am the sky. Everything else is just the weather.” – Pema Chodron

Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

Grace Shower

August 16, 2019September 10, 2019 becomingandbeholding1 Comment

Be watchful in the weather

of life,

for as your experiences show up,

their effect can either dampen and chill you,

or bless you with warm peace.

So much depends

on where you stand at the time

and if you are awake

or not.

Your life can be a challenge –

that is true.

And also the point.

For the challenges teach

and also preach

if we are present in the pew

and looking upward and inward

for understanding.

Be watchful for the weather of truth

which will come and go

like the wind which

gives us waves to ride

until we learn

how to balance on them.

And when we are ready to ride,

having built up our core,

the rain of grace

will shower down upon us,

gently cleansing us

with new realizations

of what is true.

And in this baptism of insight,

we are made new again

by the healing that

has finally arrived.

Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

In the Chill of Winter

January 19, 2019March 1, 2019 becomingandbeholding1 Comment

In the chill of winter,

build a fire big enough

to warm

your fingers and toes.

Allow the warmth

to travel to

your center –

let the grip of

cold and contraction

relax.

As you loosen and warm,

release your fear

of harsh winds

and insidious ice

which, in its blackness,

sneaks up on you

and threatens to knock you down.

In the chill of winter,

burn with awareness.

Let go of complaining

and resistance,

for they hasten the cold

to root in your being.

Instead, look to creation.

Honor the season.

What can the cold teach us?

The trees do not argue.

The squirrels settle in.

The birds accept the change

and move southward.

The plants rest.

All of nature flows with the seasons.

So, in the chill of winter,

build a fire,

rest and be warm,

discover wonder and joy

at the coating of the white –

a pure dusting

which baptizes in beauty,

reflecting the light.

Let this inspire you, and

when you are ready,

learn to play with the cold.

Build a snowman.

Poem · Poetry

Storms

March 2, 2018March 2, 2018 becomingandbeholdingLeave a comment

Rain on me,

get me wet!

Give me that helpful push with your

blustery force!

Wake me from slumber

with winds that push me forward.

Baptize me

once again –

help me remember

that I belong to you.

Remind me that storms are

necessary.

They come and they go.

Each one bringing something new

into my life.

Let me not brace against

or resist.

Get me wet.

Poem · Poetry

Impending Storm

January 3, 2018January 4, 2018 becomingandbeholding3 Comments

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.

Poem · Poetry

Winter Chill

December 10, 2017 becomingandbeholding2 Comments

As I crunch through

the remnants of the first snow fall,

careful to go slow

and not to slip –

As I feel the cold air

swallow me,

making me miserable inside –

the song of complaint

rises

raw and uncensored:

“I hate winter!”

Every ounce of my being

resists the cold.

Then a chuckle

rises within me

and passes over the

passionate resistance energy

consuming me.

I smile at my hubris

thinking I can resist weather

of all things.

And then I realize –

It is ALL weather.