The Guest House (poem by Rumi)

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice.
meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.

Be grateful for whatever comes.
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

-- Jelaluddin Rumi,
translation by Coleman Barks

Nosebleed in Snow

once upon a time
ink color of dried blood
not enough ink
dried out leaves

bully pushing my head into
cold cold snowbank
tasting crystals of snowflake
crunchy
cold
crushed

warm wet face chin drip drop
blood on snow beautiful bright
rainbow in my tears
i will never fit in

not enough paper to write
ink running out
can't fit into box

pages torn, cramming self into bud vase
how to pronounce "vase" without offending anyone
how to fit in
how to get enough space to breathe

nose keeps bleeding
snow falling silences cries
numbs the pain
covers up everything dirty and brown

Broccoli Dialogues

Eating broccoli with a three-year-old friend.

K: I like broccoli.
Me: it looks like a small tree. I'm eating the leaves first, and the trunk last.
K: I'm eating broccoli the same way you're eating broccoli.
Me: When a broccoli is too big, we can break it to get two smaller trees. Easier to eat.
K(pointing up through the glass atrium windows to a huge tree overhanging the restaurant): That looks like a big broccoli tree.
Me: you're right. I never thought of it that way.
K: With something in the middle.
Me: what is in the middle of the broccoli tree?
K: it's cheese!

I enjoy eating with 3 year old friends.  Conversations take interesting turns when one least expects it.

Me: You have a very good imagination.
K: Yup.  I have THREE imaginations.
Me: Wow!

Beautiful poem

*, in the silence of this day which is now beginning,
I come to ask you for peace, wisdom, and strength.

Today I want to look upon the world with eyes full of love;
to be patient, understanding, humble, calm, and good.

Today I want to see beyond the appearances of your children,
to see them as you yourself see them and so to be able
to appreciate the goodness of each person.

Close my ears to all murmuring; guard my tongue from all evil
speech, so that only those thoughts that bless may remain in me.

Today I want to be so well-intentioned and just that all those
who approach me may feel your presence.

Clothe me with your goodness, *, and grant that,
during this day I may reflect you.

Mmmm.

Note from Slowly Blossoming: In the prayer above, I substituted an asterisk for the words "O Lord" and typed "Mmmm" for the word "Amen".

The rest of the text is a morning prayer written by Fr. Ignacio Larrañaga, S.J. and translated from the Spanish by Fr. Mark Stengel, O.S.B. 

 According to the author or translator, the word “murmuring” in the prayer reflects St. Benedict’s condemnation of the practice of complaining and gossiping by his monks. He calls this “the vice of murmuring.”

Ancient Chinese perspective on despair

A dear friend sent me this poem in honor of the year of the horse. It's by Billy Collins. I love it.

Despair

So much gloom and doubt in our poetry -
flowers wilting on the table,
the self regarding itself in a watery mirror.

Dead leaves cover the ground,
the wind moans in the chimney,
and the tendrils of the yew tree inch toward the coffin.

I wonder what the ancient Chinese poets
would make of all this,
these shadows and empty cupboards?

Today, with the sun blazing in the trees,
my thoughts turn to the great
tenth-century celebrators of experience,

Wa-Hoo, whose delight in the smallest things
could hardly be restrained,
and to his joyous counterpart in the western provinces,
Ye-Hah.

~ Billy Collins ~

Break from that which no longer serves (poem)

Flexibility
 is s  p  a  c  e - making.

           Break from that which no longer serves.


Break to rest.


                     Drop 

resistance and let go 

into the deep

s t i l l ness of Y O U...

Poem: a new day

*

Today is a new day.

Exhaling fatigue

inhaling a fresh moment.

I am a human with flaws and weaknesses

 who needs to rest.

It's okay if I only take a few turtle steps today.

*

*

Tortoise Brother

wincing, I watched you struggle to walk
thinking I ran too fast

as you stumbled on the path
I dimmed my light to make yours shine brighter

you took your sweet time
pausing to sniff crayons
singing with the snails

I rushed ahead
harebrained
striving to win
races invented on paper

collapsing breathless
depleted

meanwhile
you crawl ahead, steady and sure
cheeks full of meaty lasagna
your words slow, widely spaced  between  silences
carrying your messages
placidly, simply

exuberant paintings
of joyful afternoons

at every family meal
contorting myself to entertain
while you munched
quietly enjoying the biggest piece

belabored words
make nobody laugh

I trained myself to take less of everything
thinking I had received too much

we were both born abundantly gifted
surrounded by love
there was no lion's share

you bathed in abundant love from the beginning
born a tortoise
moving through life slowly
resting when tired

today I'll stop running in circles
give up reproducing past races

crawl closer to you
into the cool shade

in a frog's voice
you sing to me while I sleep