The sound of breathing calms me:
Years of meditation practice
come down to a chant, In, out.
When thoughts interrupt each other
on their way to keep me awake,
I ask, What can I do about it now?
The answer is Rest. So breathe,
In, out. I need only two words. In. Out.
The act of rocking calms me,
Years of Qi Gong practice taught me:
What is breathing but rocking
air in and out of the lungs?
My breath follows each motion
whether I am calming the waters,
fanning the wind, or brushing my knee.
This morning I was a crane greeting the day.
Paying attention to the light calms me:
Years of mindfulness practice
remind me to Be Here Now,
even if the winter light insists on gray
as a top note. Light is so much more than
electromagnetic radiation detected
by my eye. What is sight but letting
the world flow in and out of the eye?
The starting point of one Poets in Practice meeting was Caliban’s soliloquy from The Tempest. The thousand twangling instruments set my teeth on edge. So many things do: Radios played loudly on public transit, a dvd so damaged that the player freezes, newspaper articles about Donald Trump. . . . Sometimes I think we live in a twangling world. For Caliban this was home, the isle is full of noises, sounds and sweet airs, that give delight.
Among the suggestions for a response to his speech: Write about sounds that please or calm you.
This reminded me that I have many tools for addressing the stress caused by noises and unpleasant situations. In California I registered for classes in yoga, Qi Gong/Tai Chi, meditation, and mindfulness. Qi Gong and meditation became daily practices that quiet the noises in my head. These are practices that let me light my way home, no matter where I am.
Even the names of Qi Gong/Tai Chi moves can soothe. But don't be fooled. The same movement may have multiple names. I've heard Separating heaven and earth called Connecting heaven and earth.
Favorite Qi Gong move to open a set: Calming the waters of the heart
Another move I like to incorporate into a set: Separating heaven and earth
Hardest move to learn: Snake’s tongue
Favorite set: Eight Brocades
I’d rather fan the wind than part the clouds.
When thinking about a poem for the blog this week, I remembered that I hadn’t finished [The sound of breathing calms me:]. The third stanza ended mid-line with the words top note. In the same way I feel myself embattled by sound, I spend a significant part of winter fending off apathy. My first impression of winter is tied to what I perceive to be a lack of color in the landscape. If I approach it with my senses dulled, I name it gray. The challenge for me is to let go of that top or head note, enjoy the heart or middle notes when they reach me, then the base notes. With my senses dulled, I also miss the textures of gray. Names of paint colors remind me: Cashmere gray, Chantilly lace, evergreen fog, dovetail, owl feather, dragon’s breath, Revere pewter, slate, icicle and iceberg. . . .
One guru of color, Jacob Olesen, at https://www.color-meanings.com/gray-color-meaning-the-color-gray/ , identifies it as a color of both compromise and control. Gray is complexly personified. The conclusion is: It melds dark with light and sorrow with hope to give it the perfect middle ground. While it’s prudent to proceed with caution when approaching the color gray, this inviting hue does more good than harm.
The draft of the piece I sat down to work with had no title. I’m not sure it ever will. It may be part of a much longer poem or a state of being that doesn’t need a title.
Though it can be difficult, stop. Breathe.
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