First poem at Yasodhara

Sacred, holy mountain; powerful and dangerous.

Beside you I feel inadequate and insecure.

Let me embody your unmovable essence. Let me also stand statuesque and serene.

Is it some sign that I find myself in the mountain, staring straight at manipura on the wall?

And asking, ’What do I need to know about myself?’

This vulnerable, little human is still arriving.

Everything’s new. Settling in, searching out roots and balance.

I’m reacting in old ways and observing ancient patterns.

But they’re weaker than they’ve ever been.

Awareness illuminates them and steals their strength.

Slowly, like the sunshine illumines parts of a mountain,

First on one side, then on a hidden valley, then over a peak,

I can let the hidden parts of myself be revealed where the light is ready to be.

Being gently in the foundation of my faith and knowledge,

While emotions blow over like an ever-changing weather system.

Shadows and light never stay for long,

But the mountain doesn’t need other mountains to tell it its name.

It just is: Bridging the light and dark; feminine and masculine;

Past and present; real and symbolic;

Cultures and geographies; left and right

Moving from edge to edge, I find I enjoy the extremes.

Somewhere in the further most doing, there is resting.

Paradox.

Where just enough tension gives the hold bite- pushing the limits.

Struggling to hold onto kindness.

And yet there is always a refuge.

A safe place in nature and in light:

In attempting to embody love, while balancing in the tree, I crack a smile.

Reminds me of playfulness and of laughter;

That trees speak to me, that we exchange affections.

An important reminder to keep lightness in the practice.

Without light, we and our sister trees would die, inside and out.

Imagining it was always dark, that the sun never came again,

Is the most fearful of thoughts.

And yet, just as a tree’s roots grow in darkness,

Is not a vital part of us born in darkness, nourished by darkness?

Without darkness there could be no light.

Not where I stand today on this bridge, by this tree,

In this mountain.

A couple of poems inspired by my yoga course

 

In playfulness,

The turtle stares up at me with his one eye.

It looks like the facet of a diamond,

Winking and twinkling and laughing at my efforts,

In the gentlest and kindest of ways.

But I’m too shy to come out yet.

‘Carry your temple with you wherever you go,’ he says-

‘A bodily temple of sensations,

And find retreat in the blue sacred spaces:’

“The depths of the ocean where dreams arise.”

My feet are in Namaste,

Slowly learning to bow.

 

African fish eagle, black and white

Waits long time on a burnt out tree

Head turns watching watching.

Emotionless, balanced, secure in stillness,

Setting her sights before she moves,

Not quite ready to soar.

Twists in life, transitions.

A useful tension rings out long-held stuff.

Blessed release opens up revelations:

A broken heart is an open heart;

There’s lightening in stormy skies.

Fear of death explodes into a love of life;

Eyes and lack of eyes.

From purple water monsters, ghosts and prisons

Arrows point to metamorphosis:

A giant blue insect bird soars over a golden sailboat,

Silver vibrations of gratefulness and

Orangepinkyellow joy.

Surrender to savasana:

Sacred space, silence, a place to grieve

Trust, cease the trying and the struggle,

RELAX to reveal ‘that sweet spot’:

A candle of enlightenment,

Faith, devotion and acceptance

Salutations to Surya, God the Sun,

I bow and prostrate like a pilgrim in Tibet,

Move with the flow of the breath, remember grace.

Opening the chest, I embody Spirit:

Every part of me celebrating life and

Using my ox’s heart to pull me through and up

Into light.

Now floating in the pond of pure, shining whiteness,

I hear the movements of fish and the mysterious sounds of the deep

Warm and ever so peaceful, totally weightless and held.

Occasionally I open an eye or both

And see the vast expanse of blue sky and sunlight

Or catch a glimpse of the corner of a waxy leaf or petal,

White with an edge of yellow or pink,

Or my hand gently nudges up against something firm

And I feel the perfection of the Blue Lotus