Rewriting Poems, Rewriting Life

It’s 3 am and I am watching my thoughts.

'Should I buy things for my daughter’s birthday party early or just wait till the weekend?'

'Now that I am up and will probably not fall back asleep, should I go to work with this sore throat and potential upcoming nasal congestion, go into work later, or should I just stay home?'

I decide to mentally rewrite a poem I had originally written in April.


Standstill


the water’s edge
no where to go
but watch the waves
turning
one wave breaks
i am the line
yielding, accepting
one wave at a time


The planning thoughts become waves in the distance.

The Three M's

I have been thinking about what occupies my time and space lately. I have come up with the three M’s: mindfulness meditation, mothering, and medicine. The nice thing is, each M feeds and learns from the other two.

Just yesterday, my almost 2 year old daughter challenged my ability to stay present in every possible way. While we were eating breakfast, lunch, and dinner, she was playing with her food and utensils. When I tried to get her to eat (with or without a fork or spoon), she just cried and made gagging threats as if she really would throw up. To complicate matters, she was sick with a cold, had just gotten the flu shot, was constipated, and was just learning to really get used to the idea of self-feeding.

Sometimes my patients also challenge me. They remind me of my own prejudices and how fear can magnify any acute or chronic illness into a formidable demon. Mindfulness helps me to feel their fear with them, give it space to be. If we can acknowledge fear together, we can then breathe into it and discover the true source of discomfort. This is where true healing begins. At times I am grateful for my intuition and my ability to help patients; at other times I am frustrated when asked to just fill a prescription to cover the source of pain.

As my 3 M’s hold hands together in meditation, a 4th M, Mara also wants to hold hands. Mara is the demon who tempted the Buddha, but is also described as a primarily psychological force - a metaphor for various processes of doubt and temptation that obstruct religious practice. I accept Mara, not as an external creation, but an internal decision to choose one path over another.

I believe we always have a choice.

Being with Anger and Fear

I am angry that I am angry. My midback is a stone, the weight of it pulling my heart in. My muscles are as tense as steel sheets guarding against fear. My scalp is tense, hair falling out in spears to kill approaching fear.

Despite my best efforts, anger and fear are here. They are misbehaving. Perhaps they want me to ask them questions. Perhaps they have something to say.

Talking to Sky

“Blue, gray, or white?” she asks.

Do I want sun or rain?

“I want it all,” I reply.

If I can accept her, all that she has to offer, then I can accept myself.

Seasons

Two years ago, I was in a very different place. Today, I am here.

Seasons (original by Heart)

For our world The circle turns again Throughout the year We've seen the seasons change It's meant alot For me to start anew Oh the winter's cold But I'm so warm with you Out there there's not a sound to be heard And the seasons to sleep upon their words As the waters freeze up with the summer's end It's funny how young lovers Start as friends Oh it's funny how young lovers Start as friends Out there there's not a sound to be heard And the seasons to sleep upon their words As the waters freeze up with the summer's end As the waters freeze up with the summer's end It's funny how young lovers Start as friends Yeah it's funny how young lovers Start as friends

Do you have it?

“Do you have it?” he asked.

I looked at him, way down to the center of his soul. The beginning of life. The beginning of consciousness.

I knew I didn’t. Unlike other healing remedies, I could not buy it. I would have to grow this one myself.

I woke up from the dream with a headache. Who was he? Was he The Enlightened One?

I’m not sure if it was the rain tapping against the side of the house, or the slowing of my own breath that lulled me back to sleep.

When I awoke again, the headache was gone.

I didn’t know I carried the seeds to cultivate trust so quickly overnight.