Breathing
has brought you here,
where you are now.
Breathing
will keep you here,
in the present moment.
Breathing
will push you forward,
to where you want to go.
Tag: ground
the heat and the coolness
If I stand here,
still enough for long enough
and breathe,
I can feel the heat of the sun
penetrating my skin
warming me from the inside out,
I can feel the coolness
of the soft wind brushing
and sliding over me,
I can feel the solid, firm ground
unwavering beneath my feet.
I feel the heat and the coolness
at the same time,
inside and outside
my body.
Open my eyes to be blinded
by the sun
dancing across the water
and a new gust of wind
tousling my hair.
Heartbreakingly beautiful.
the grass and the dirt
Threading the blades of grass
between my fingers
and toes
picking up small particles of dirt
from the soil beneath
reconnects me to the Earth
grounding
calming me back to centre.
This, right here,
is all I have.
Everything I see and think in my mind
are not here with me.
Only the grass and the dirt
are.
remember the slow walk
Footsteps slow down
heel to toe motion
toes connect one by one with the ground
sensations traveling back to my brain
this is how it feels to walk slow
walk with intention and grace
tension releases
calm expands.
Remember.
the clouds come back
Just as soon as I am laughing and smiling,
basking in the warm afternoon sun,
the clouds come back
and the fog settles in,
pushing me back down, down to the ground again.
In an instant everything changes.
How can it happen so fast?
I scarcely had time to enjoy being happy
before my mind took it away again.
Leaves remaining
Leaves remaining from last year,
maybe longer,
collect and accumulate in a pile
littering the ground with browns and dull greys.
How many layers are there?
All I see are the new ones on top,
hiding the older ones underneath
likely in varying stages of decomposition.
There they lie.
Rustling ever so slightly in the breeze
are the light, new ones,
settling motionless, heavy with age and water
are the the old ones,
the foundation.
Up through the middle though
lives a tree
growing new bright and green leaves
and blossoms of dark fuschia and cotton white.
So odd it seems
how life can flourish from the base
of death, of decay,
but my eyes do not deceive me.
Perhaps, the leaves offer comfort.
Perhaps, the leaves provide warmth.
Perhaps, the leaves supply nourishment.
But perhaps, the leaves are a hindrance,
keeping the tree in the past,
preventing growth.
Despite the offered comfort,
go the leaves must.
I gathered mine,
will keep gathering as new ones fall,
growing through and beyond
the past.
Dawning Words 