“Poetry is a life-cherishing force. For poems are not words, after all, but fires for the cold, ropes let down to the lost, something as necessary as bread in the pockets of the hungry.”
― Mary Oliver, A Poetry Handbook
“There is nothing at all that can be talked about adequately, and the whole art of poetry is to say what can't be said.”
― Alan Watts
Dancing with duality in an empty house.
Be moved & be still - together.
Discovering & uncovering, time dissolves into presence.
A minute is a moment and an eternity.
No goal, simply arriving into the mystery of morning time.
Outside the window,
a new day begins.
Clouds float, dance and breathe with me,
winter tree skeletons stand quietly & flowers begin to bloom.
- As It Is -
Simplicity is real.
So, hold onto all that is elemental:
sky, earth, moon.
Hold yesterday's sun,
tomorrow's calm mystic morning light.
Hold flowers blooming and spiders spinning webs.
Hold the clarity of simple observation,
& the pure fire of attention.
Embrace each as an act of honesty.
As It Is.
- Full Moon Sunshine -
My body, your body, her body, his body is made of all things earth.
Ocean magic, animal medicine, plant wisdom & the pure heat of fire.
And so, each one of us is tonight's full moon, embodied.
Each organ holds the secrets of an old growth cedar; intimate & wise beyond the brain's comprehension.
Each bellybutton is a snowflake, wildly ordinary & perfectly unique.
Each foot is a raindrop, simply landing & becoming earth.
Each full body laugh is a wildflower, who's true colour is just about to explode.
And, each embodied shape is a miracle, a still point & a possibility.
My body, your body, her body, his body, Awakened & felt.is a celebration.
a gift. a remembering.a bright sun. a full moon.
- By The Sea -
A rare quiet morning walk with my dog,
We meander through a lifting fog.
Inhale full moon air and swallow a sky of impossible beauty.
Lost amidst a chorus of red-winged blackbirds, who are our ancestors.
Found in the company of an ephemeral chief.
Free inside a sea of unanswerable questions -
perhaps you know?
how many hearts do you have?
- That Owl -
Sometimes, one foot in front of the next - I disappear.
become a tree
a snowflake, a cloud
Owl on a rock, gone so soon, a reminder to keep eyes open.
Tell me, please, what is the language of listening?
and, can you hear the mountains whisper magic prayers?
Cast beneath their spell,
my soul flies briefly with that owl
crystals grow out of sunlight
the moon smiles.
Nothing (everything) matters
anything seems possible.
today i swam in a lake,
and I ran beside the river,
and I was moved
by the warm sun on my skin
to fold inward towards
the dimensions of myself
that are cleansed
by coastal raindrops,
hours of studio time to read poetry and
move these 42 year old bones,
and quiet moments to sit and be still.
summer yoga in my world
has become so boundless and free.
it’s solitude in the mountains
it’s beside a campfire with no bedtime and lots of kids roasting marshmallows,
it’s the smell of dirt on my hands after a full day of gardening,
it’s wandering uphill for hours and
paddling into a foggy abyss of islands
towards a beach I may call home
for the night with my family.
the formality of practice
is such a gift in this life,
so much so,
that as years pass
I can see how my love affair with my mat
has, at times, actually limited
my own capacity for spontaneity and freedom
all of it is so beautiful
all of you are so beautiful
mountains for breakfast
Another year with you gone.
I love you
The last bloom unfolds
Savouring this moment, now
Soon, gone forever.
Simple lakeside days
welcome deciduous shade
And acorns, thank you.
While breathing a green palate
After the first real rain in months
Good morning estuary
A calm window between storms
then, the rain returns.
Riverside rock things
Building joy beside the river
Staying for a while.
Letting the light in,
Briefly, debris from last weeks
Storm shades today’s trail
True story, no filter
Proof that magic is real
What do you see?
With the moon above the clouds
In good company
Happy place is here,
Amidst green, sheltered from the rain,
Finding our way home.
Feels like springtime
Bulbs and bare ski emerging
Less grey and more green
What is the sutra of this space?
Opening to the treasure of breathing here.
Celebrating community - now.
March 9, 2022
Here, a cool breeze touches warm skin.
A raven’s wings soar and land close by.
I am between so many beginnings and endings.
Aren’t we all? I suppose that’s the liminal space of real life.
I am sad for the heartbreak, unnecessary pain and confusion in our world.
And, I’m pondering peace, as a concept, a parenting philosophy, a relationship practice, and a possibility?
So many questions.
The wisdom of embodied play & the commitment to explore new trails are presently my pathways to freedom.
Moving downhill, back to my family and my home, one footprint at a time, the Thich Nhat Hanh’s walking meditation cue dances in my mind as a mantra.
‘kiss the earth with your feet and breathe peace in every step.’
Sept 3, 2021
Today I am lingering somewhere
between here and there,
there and here.
This morning is cool and cloudy
and I am roasting garden tomatoes
in a cozy sweater
and making notes on my calendar
that resemble the routines of autumn.
I am also daydreaming about
the satisfaction of really full days
(and when I say full I don’t mean busy).
The full days I am referring to
are one’s that ensure an undeniable
type of uncluttered
attention & presence
so clear and
simple and free.
I am talking about adventures
that ask my eyes to listen to the mountains,
that open my ears to the touch of the clouds,
that remind my skin to smell the air,
my nose to taste a glacier melting &
my mouth to water with the sight of it all.
there is no destination and yet we arrive.
There are boundaries, limits and real risk
and also the deepest trust
in our collective capacity
to do what needs to be done
to love ourselves
and this heartbroken world.
Thank you mountains.
Thank you friend.
Thank you love.
Life is helical.
Once you begin to tune into nature’s endless spirals, you will see them everywhere.
Some are more easily seen, like the shape of a conch shell, the birds eye view of a storm or the sequencing of a sunflower. Others are more subtle and unseen, like the helix of our DNA, the helical way blood flows through our veins and the miraculous spiral embryology of your beating heart.
Spirals emerge naturally when the shapes of nature meet each other. And, when we begin to observe from this lens, it becomes logical to move like a spiral. When we move like a spiral we get a visceral understanding of their wisdom, their dimensions of possibility & presence and the helical strength within us.
Jan 12, 2022
Be the Moment Itself
there is no recipe beyond showing up,
there is no map beyond the next breath,
Amidst this wave, I am yet again reminded that there is simply no yoga that unfolds beyond this moment.
Truly, what is happening right now?
Inside these cells,
today’s truth whispers,
move in ways that don’t follow a plan,
break free of boundaries & absolutes.
And, instead of following the forms,
be the formless form,
landing again and again,
inside of the pulsing stillness of now.
be the moment itself
be the moment itself.