Tag Archives: stream of consciousness

Made It Through


Spring was in the air,
so I threw open
all the windows,
rolled up my sleeves,
and got to work.
Load after load of laundry,
sorting through odd bits,
so much cleaning.
Kids got home
and we went out,
out to the forest.
We slogged through mud,
over streams
and fallen logs,
slippery stones,
yellow-green moss.
Back home, homework,
dinner, bath,
reading together,
then bed.
Then I write this
stream of consciousness poem,
and soon I’ll write in my
gratitude journal.
Ahh, I made it through another day.

Writing 101, Weekend Continuation: Free Writing


I was all excited to hop on over to the Daily Post and read the Writing 101 prompt for today.  Much to my surprise I saw no prompt at all, and I remembered this is Blogging U; I guess we don’t have any assignments over the weekend.  I decided to free write for fifteen minutes, because I love to take my fountain pen in hand and spill my thoughts across the pages of my journal.  So safe.  So easy.  Here it is, fifteen plus unedited minutes of stream of consciousness, from my mind to yours.


Dear Journal,

I turn to you again for a session of free writing so that I may see where my mind is, where my thoughts are, without the need to make sense or accomplish anything in particular.

What is alive in me?  I notice that after nearly three years of practicing meditation, I’ve only just begun to be aware of how many attachments are driving my decisions…deciding my perception, causing me to think and feel and move and breathe in ways that do not reflect my higher purpose.  I see how these attachments keep me wrapped up in the realm of the senses, this physical world, how many emotions I have tied into life turning out a certain way, my children and husband behaving a certain way, how getting what I want is my primary unconscious desire, how disappointed I am when I don’t get what I want.  There is movement everywhere…in the world around me, in my body, in the cheerful singing of the bird outside my window.  Why am I so stuck in these patterns of thought?  Will I ever be free of my attachments?  Will I ever experience the deep peace of a truly meditative state on a more consistent basis?  And what am I trying to prove?  Whenever I just pause for a moment, I see how my default mode of being is one of anxiety, tension, like I’m being chased by something and I daren’t slow down or else I may be caught.  What am I running from?  Why can’t I just stop and let whatever it is catch up with me?  Maybe I’m simply afraid of fear, and maybe there isn’t a monster chasing me, but a good friend, like peace, or happiness, or my authentic self.  Maybe my unconscious self drives me to all this running because it doesn’t want to give up the reins (the reign?) and risk losing its perception of itself, its familiarity, its paradoxical comfort with the constant discomfort, its illusion of identity, of control.

So how to stop now that I’ve gained so much momentum, now that I’ve run very deep grooves into my mind with all of these repetitive thoughst?  When I stop, every childish desire, every disappointment, ever hope and fear, every regret stand before me and put on a flashy display.  They tell me, “This is reality.  This is who you are.”  But the yogis say otherwise. They say that it’s possible to create some space between the thoughts so that you catch a glimpse of what lies beyond them.  Obscuring true reality like storm clouds obscure the sun, these habitual patterns of thought can be transcended so that the light of true awareness can shine.  Oh teachers, show me the way.

And now for a poem…because that’s what I do.


Dear Life,
How can I be good like you,
balanced like you,
flowing like you?
Can you teach me how to relax,
how to be free,
how to be present,
how to truly live?
I want to laugh without fear of sadness,
I want to enjoy my abundance without fear of scarcity,
I want to live without fear of death,
and love without fear of loss.
Dear Life,
can you teach me?
I see that in the natural world,
death is an essential part of life,
and the autumn leaves must fall
to create a fertile ground for the spring seedlings.
Can you help me to make peace with death?
Can you help me to die to all of my self-limiting beliefs?
can you help me to love what is,
so that I can be free in this moment to simply be?
Dear Life,
can you show me how to awaken, now,
regardless of my circumstances?
And Life, I thank you.