Asana in the woods
hot summer day
reaching for strength
diving deep to find my breath
I remember how simple it all is.
Just this moment,
This little puff of wind,
the chorus of bullfrogs,
clouds drifting by,
everything constantly changing.
I remember the impermanence,
how I am,
how existence is
like a dewdrop in a blade of grass.*
*Still loving the Tokmé Zongpo quote featured in my last post.
I’ve been enjoying reading Reflections on Silver River, Ken McLeod’s translation of Tokmé Zongpo’s Thirty-Seven Practices of the Bodhisattva. This quote touched me so deeply I felt inspired to take a picture of dewdrops on grass and find an app that would let me add text to the photo. It ended up being a therapeutic photo editing session. Win-win!
When the redbud, radiant in her new pink gown
places her arms around the forlorn forsythia and asks
Friend, stay awhile yet,
When the saucer magnolia
cries soft pink tears that pool in the grass
and spill overflowing into the road,
When the chilly wind stirs the wisteria
and frees the cherry blossoms
from their distant perch
When winter’s icy fingers still clutch
at the robes of the Goddess Spring
who longs to break free of the chains
and dance in the warmth of awakening–
When the green mist of rebirth
splashes the forest with promises
of incalculable abundance
then let us go by the river
and listen to this life that is ours.