Sitting in the quiet
after everyone has fallen asleep
I give thanks for these simple blessings–
and a mind ready to let go of this day.
Softening into stillness
I let the silence rise up within me
until I can hear
what it has been saying all along.
The words don’t come.
I have no idea what to say.
What is important?
What is worth being said?
Sometimes, silence is better.
After so much spinning noise,
it’s so nice to sit and just be.
But as my body becomes still,
the noise in my head grows louder.
Where is the spinner of noise?
Does she weave a tapestry of many colors?
Does she cackle and croon
and delight in all the textures?
Even in silence there is noise.
Even when my mind is quiet,
the noise continues on,
in the beating of my heart,
in the sound of cars driving by,
the TV downstairs where my husband
is watching a show.
I thought once that I wanted the noise to stop,
but I know better now–
the noise cannot stop.
The day the spinner of noise stops spinning,
so will the great green globe we call home.
So here is to sitting in the center of the spinning noise
and remembering the stillness that hides in the movement
and the sound that is concealed by silence.
We seek out a conversation
because we are uncomfortable with the silence.
We want to bring more objects into our lives
because we are afraid of emptiness.
We seek companionship
because we are terrified of being alone.
Can you be the brave one
who stops this madness?
Can you listen instead of speak?
Can you sit in the fire of silence
and be burned completely
and then rise from the ashes
pure and clean and clear?
Can you give away
what you are attached to?
Can you sit with your open heart and mind
and enjoy the simplest of gifts–
this breath in, this breath out?
For one moment,
could you stop surrounding yourself
with so many faces and voices
could you sit quietly and be embraced
by the inner friend?
What if you were told
that the future of this planet
depends on you being okay
just as you are right now?
What would you do then?
In a sea of feeling
What to do
when feeling so alone
surrounded by people
with so many words to say
and no courage to speak?
I go inwards and take a breath.
Though the walls
are closing in on the outside,
I make space on the inside,
claiming the space that is rightfully mine,
the space to be,
the space to breathe,
the space to not have to speak.
silence and breathing.
Peace need not be spoken.
These hands have done a lot of work today.
assisting students in yoga postures,
The skin of these hands is irritated
from too much hand washing.
I want to help it somehow.
But it won’t be through lotions or potions
for tired, working hands
that I’ll remember my true self.
The greatest help I can offer is
the stillness and silence I find
When I just sit down.
I awoke tired and in a funk
mind swarmed with visions
of every horror that I have experienced
or was recounted to me this past week
Meditation was difficult
tired mind didn’t want to focus
I felt drowsy, I wanted to lie down
And then it was time to go to work.
I felt anxious,
mistrustful of the drivers on the road,
in light of recent experiences.
I was afraid I wouldn’t be calm enough
for my students,
calm enough to feel whole inside myself.
And then I taught yoga,
and all my personal stories melted away
in the presence of the Universal Teacher
who steps into my body
who speaks through my mouth
who reaches out with my hands
when it is time to welcome the Students.
No more Lorien,
just Teacher, ready for my beloved Students.
They came to me,
twenty-seven souls looking for union
twenty-seven body-minds finding
rhythm in their breath and movement
Today for some reason
I didn’t want to fill
all of the silence with the sound of my voice.
Today for some reason
I welcomed the silence,
saw it as a precious gift
that I wanted to offer to everyone.
I wanted to offer them space,
space for being
space for homecoming.
And because I left spaces
in between the sounds
and found stillness
in the midst of movement
I could hear
and I could see
and I could feel
this incredible connection
with the souls
who were there with me in the room
I thank God for the honor
of being present
to my fellow human beings in this way
the gift it is
to bear witness
to their tender unfolding
their delicate transformation
the trusting leaps they make
as they dance on the fine line of oneness
stretched across the abyss of duality.