Tag Archives: Poetry

Everything is waiting for you

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“Everything is waiting for you” by David Whyte

Your great mistake is to act the drama as if you were alone. As if life were a progressive and cunning crime with no witness to the tiny hidden transgressions. To feel abandoned is to deny the intimacy of your surroundings. Surely, even you, at times have felt the grand array; the swelling presence, and the chorus, crowding out your solo voice.

You must note the way the soap dish enables you, or the window latch grants you freedom.

Alertness is the hidden discipline of familiarity. The stairs are your mentor of things to come, the doors have always been there to frighten you and invite you, and the tiny speaker in the phone is your dream ladder to divinity.

Put down the weight of your aloneness and ease into the conversation. The kettle is singing even as it pours you a drink, the cooking pots have left their arrogant aloofness and seen the good in you at last. All the birds and creatures of the world are unutterably themselves.

Everything, everything, everything is waiting for you.

To hear David Whyte‘s deep TedTalk   about how to be  in conversation with yourself and the world (and some more of his poetry), see below:

First Coming by Madeleine L’Engle

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For those of you celebrating Christmas, here is a poem for you. For those of you not celebrating Christmas, here is a poem for you.(Courtesy of J. Tammen who shared it with me via a Christmas Letter she received in the mail.)

First Coming

By Madeleine L’Engle

He did not wait till the world was ready,
till men and nations were at peace
He came when the Heavens were unsteady
and prisoners cried out for release.

He did not wait for the perfect time.
He came when the need was deep and great.
He died with sinners in all their grime,
turned water into wine. He did not wait

till hearts were pure. In joy he came
to a tarnished world of sin and doubt.
To a world like ours, of anguished shame
He came, and his Light would not go out.

He came to a world which did not mesh,
to heal its tangles, shield its scorn.
In the mystery of the Word made Flesh
the Maker of the stars was born.

We cannot wait till the world is sane
to raise our songs with joyful voice,
for to share our grief, to touch our pain,
He came with Love: Rejoice! Rejoice!

Mandala Reflections hopes regardless of your religious background that you can find something to rejoice in, today and every day. Now is not a time for waiting, the world needs you, and if you are waiting to tell someone you love them, don’t wait.  Seize the day and your life!

Thanks always for reading along, we wish you love and light today and hope to see more of you in the New Year! May you be happy and healthy and an active participant in the world inside you and around you.

Peace be with you!

Coming Home to Myself

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Fall is in full-swing and it feels like winter is just around the corner! Every year I get excited for this slow-down period. As the natural environment edges toward a scene of sparseness and simplicity, so does the calendar of events. However, I cannot say the same for what may be stirring within our household.

This autumn, my husband and I took on a 25 day whole foods detox led by a fellow holistic health studies classmate of mine, Katie Jasper. More on that to come. We are only 7 days in, but so far, the results have been wonderful. As we are home cooking and eating in community, we both feel more energized, clear-headed, and grounded. With this new excitement and clarity, we feel like we started trekking down a path together that is so important and truly rejuvenating. What really is happening is we are simply making the commitment to live a healthier, holistic life. While I can go on and on making it sound all flowery and unicorn-like, I would rather point out that plenty of the purgative experience is dealing with the “mess in the basement” that is not related to the foods we are eating.

The “mess in the basement” is the not-so-pleasant or hip or happy parts of what makes me…me. It’s the parts of myself that I know can be destructive if not handled appropriately or acknowledged. From a big picture standpoint, it’s the greater reason why people get sidetracked on the road coming home to themselves.

The detox has acted as a catalyst and plunged me right into a ritual that happens every year at this time – the practice of going inward, self-reflecting, accepting, and letting go. It is different and yet it is the same – and as the days shorten and the darkness surrounds me all over again, I continue to look forward to what I will encounter this year.

Below is an excerpt from a wonderful book, written by Marion Woodman that pairs well with this time of year and with this post. Her work is appropriately named, Coming Home to Myself: Reflections for Nurturing a Woman’s Body and SoulI think all people can relate to it, so I hope that this snippet inspires you to take some time to experience what it means to come home to yourself and to explore the “mess in your basement.”

Happy Fall!    

In my dream,

I was a priestess

and had prepared

the altar for great celebration.

The flowers were almost in place,

the roses almost in the center

of the sunlit altar.

(I could not make the roses fit

within the light.)

A shadow the shape of a cross came through a window.

 

An old man came to me and said,

Your hymns will never rise to heaven

until you clean up your mess in the basement.

 

But there’s no basement in this temple, I said.

That’s the problem: there is, he replied.

 

Down the rotting old steps we went

and found a slimy lagoon.

A water wheel,

joining basement to temple, lay still.

 

A huge serpent writhed,

trying and failing and trying again

to center its head on the wheel.

It knew its task was to turn the wheel–

quiet, rhythmic–with its head.

 

I tried to move the wheel towards the serpent

and it struck.

The old man pulled me out of danger,

You can’t move so fast

She doesn’t trust you.

Hasten slowly;

you will make her your friend.

 

For twenty years,

the wheel has creaked but turned;

The lagoon, fresh; 

the serpent, Sophia;

the roses, not yet in place.