This past year has been (excuse me for lack of better metaphor) a roller coaster. And just as a roller coaster begins on the track at a certain spot, so it ends. I feel like this year has been the same. I have grown in many ways, yet here I stand at the coming of 2010 facing much the same questions and choices as 2009 presented and challenged me with. Who am I? Where am I going? Am I making the right choices? Am I making a difference? Am I doing my best? Am I positively affecting others? Am I living it right?
A close friend of mine once (actually, multiple times) told me that any choice I make is the right choice. It is not the choice or decision that is right or wrong, it is the act of actually making the choice, and committing to it, which then makes it right. Much like everything else, it is the path itself which is most important, not the outcome, answer, or solution.
I am finding trust in this each day. Along with many other things.
I have great hopes for this coming year, 2010, for myself and for us all.
I hope this year brings us all happiness, the kind the starts within and extends outward. I hope this year brings us laughter, the kind that keeps a smile's outline long and after. I hope this year brings us peace from our sufferings, small and large. I hope this year takes away our worries of tomorrow, and brings us the peace that can be found today. I hope this year brings us closer to our goals and aspirations, enchanting our dreams, our lives. I hope this year brings us from fear to love, freeing our minds, souls, spirits, hearts, and selves from everything and all.
I hope this year brings you beauty in all forms.
Om Shanti.
be.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Hide and Seek
I saw her today in the mirror.
Just for a second,
and then she was gone.
Playing her game of hide and seek,
coming and going.
Then coming, going.
And coming back again.
She always does return.
She is Girl.
No. She is Woman.
But she is built of more than flesh and skin, hair, eyes, lips, limbs.
She is more than Body.
She is the stuff we cannot see.
That stuff we call Soul and Spirit.
She just has a body that is ever-presently here.
And so she runs and hides away,
but always returning.
For she never really leaves at all.
Just finds good hiding so far within that she seems gone.
Just for a second,
and then she was gone.
Playing her game of hide and seek,
coming and going.
Then coming, going.
And coming back again.
She always does return.
She is Girl.
No. She is Woman.
But she is built of more than flesh and skin, hair, eyes, lips, limbs.
She is more than Body.
She is the stuff we cannot see.
That stuff we call Soul and Spirit.
She just has a body that is ever-presently here.
And so she runs and hides away,
but always returning.
For she never really leaves at all.
Just finds good hiding so far within that she seems gone.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
I see her after weeks, sometimes months, sometimes just a day
And yet she still takes a running jump into my arms
Hugging me.
I ask her, "Did you miss me?"
Because I still need to know, to hear.
She says as always, assuredly, "YESSSSSSSS!!!!!"
She asks me to play matching games
And we take turns flipping cards, finding matches of monkeys and frogs.
She asks me to teach her yoga,
So I get her a mat and we work on our downdogs.
She tells me when things are not funny.
And I tell her that I will protect her from Bella, my brother's German Shepard pup
who though loving in kissing and licks
can sometimes nip and scratch, but in love nonetheless.
I sit on the stairs with a look in my eyes,
A look that has become familiar to her.
And she sits beside me, eyes peering forward, not at me.
But sitting close enough for her to say without words,
"I don't know what is wrong. But it is ok. I am here. I love you."
She is just shy of 5 years, but has a knowing soul, a powerful intuition.
I give her a first round of hugs and goodbyes.
She comes back my way for me to zip up her puffy coat.
I don't want her to be cold.
She makes her way back again, into my arms, another goodbye.
She knows I hate goodbyes, but that I need them so.
Again she makes her way back to me.
Once more I hold her tight.
I tell her I love her.
I tell her that I will miss her.
She tells me she loves me too.
I say to her, "Goodbye, my Love."
She repeats, "Goodbye, my Love."
And that is how we part.
And yet she still takes a running jump into my arms
Hugging me.
I ask her, "Did you miss me?"
Because I still need to know, to hear.
She says as always, assuredly, "YESSSSSSSS!!!!!"
She asks me to play matching games
And we take turns flipping cards, finding matches of monkeys and frogs.
She asks me to teach her yoga,
So I get her a mat and we work on our downdogs.
She tells me when things are not funny.
And I tell her that I will protect her from Bella, my brother's German Shepard pup
who though loving in kissing and licks
can sometimes nip and scratch, but in love nonetheless.
I sit on the stairs with a look in my eyes,
A look that has become familiar to her.
And she sits beside me, eyes peering forward, not at me.
But sitting close enough for her to say without words,
"I don't know what is wrong. But it is ok. I am here. I love you."
She is just shy of 5 years, but has a knowing soul, a powerful intuition.
I give her a first round of hugs and goodbyes.
She comes back my way for me to zip up her puffy coat.
I don't want her to be cold.
She makes her way back again, into my arms, another goodbye.
She knows I hate goodbyes, but that I need them so.
Again she makes her way back to me.
Once more I hold her tight.
I tell her I love her.
I tell her that I will miss her.
She tells me she loves me too.
I say to her, "Goodbye, my Love."
She repeats, "Goodbye, my Love."
And that is how we part.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Monday, December 21, 2009
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
New Blog
Hey Peeps
Prefer to read/learn about health and wellness and addiction ? Google it!
Or check out my newbie blog strictly dedicated to the above. That's right. No poems or silliness on this one. Maybe a few lame jokes here and there, but you get the point.
http://shafaspace.blogspot.com
wishbones&wheaties,
be.
Prefer to read/learn about health and wellness and addiction ? Google it!
Or check out my newbie blog strictly dedicated to the above. That's right. No poems or silliness on this one. Maybe a few lame jokes here and there, but you get the point.
http://shafaspace.blogspot.com
wishbones&wheaties,
be.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
If you carry crystals in your pocket long enough...
I've carried in my pocket, and put under my pillow, two crystals for the last few weeks.
One a lapis:
"Lapis Lazuli is a powerful stone for those who seek spiritual development...helps us contact our spirit guardians...."
One an amethyst:
"Amethyst is the stone of spirituality and sobriety...It is also the stone of transformation..."
And alas here I am. Where I am. And perhaps they are in fact powerful little gems. Perhaps I undermined the two...
What am I saying? Be careful of what you put in your pocket and under your pillow...
One a lapis:
"Lapis Lazuli is a powerful stone for those who seek spiritual development...helps us contact our spirit guardians...."
One an amethyst:
"Amethyst is the stone of spirituality and sobriety...It is also the stone of transformation..."
And alas here I am. Where I am. And perhaps they are in fact powerful little gems. Perhaps I undermined the two...
What am I saying? Be careful of what you put in your pocket and under your pillow...
Saturday, December 5, 2009
i never thought that i would leave this city
i thought for sure it had earned recognition as my home
and i still believe
that it has.
it's made me misty with aspirations
for myself
for others
for us all.
it's also struck me with the pain that comes along
with wanting nothing more
than to heal.
and believe me,
healing is not all comforting.
like a wound scabbing over,
it too itches and and hardens
til one day it is sealed with a shiny pink layer
of new skin.
much like my knee,
but even that too still aches
on the occasion.
i am attached to many a thing a place a people
this city
and all who reside within my close comforts.
i am essentially holding hands with this city
and everything i deem it to be.
by leaving,
i will be letting go
not one finger at a time
as two individuals parting ways with the final light touch of the tips of the fingers
but more so
like two who hold closely for some time
before finally releasing the close grip
knowing
that though the goodbye is not forever
it is still a lapse in the vague realm of time.
i will return
to this home of mine.
to this city of subways with trains that have taken me everywhere
with one single swipe of that Metro Card.
that same Metro Card that I will use
to take the train to the station
to catch that faithful Bieber bus.
it's not goodbye, New York.
it's just til the next swipe
of that Metro Card.
i thought for sure it had earned recognition as my home
and i still believe
that it has.
it's made me misty with aspirations
for myself
for others
for us all.
it's also struck me with the pain that comes along
with wanting nothing more
than to heal.
and believe me,
healing is not all comforting.
like a wound scabbing over,
it too itches and and hardens
til one day it is sealed with a shiny pink layer
of new skin.
much like my knee,
but even that too still aches
on the occasion.
i am attached to many a thing a place a people
this city
and all who reside within my close comforts.
i am essentially holding hands with this city
and everything i deem it to be.
by leaving,
i will be letting go
not one finger at a time
as two individuals parting ways with the final light touch of the tips of the fingers
but more so
like two who hold closely for some time
before finally releasing the close grip
knowing
that though the goodbye is not forever
it is still a lapse in the vague realm of time.
i will return
to this home of mine.
to this city of subways with trains that have taken me everywhere
with one single swipe of that Metro Card.
that same Metro Card that I will use
to take the train to the station
to catch that faithful Bieber bus.
it's not goodbye, New York.
it's just til the next swipe
of that Metro Card.
Friday, December 4, 2009
12.04.09.155
i am told that he walks beside me
and that he is here with me now
and comes around often.
yet this emptiness and aloneness i feel
is so present
and gripping
that it strangles.
and makes me hold on
to everything around me
like
the crystals i grip in my pocket
or
the lump i fight with to swallow
in my throat
and
the people
like you.
12.04.09.200
If what is happening
is in fact not my fault
or choosing
but everything around me's
underlining, undiscovered weight
then really
my chains are not my own.
But if
these struggles
I have chosen on my own
to carry and to bear
are mine
then who to break the locks
but me?
12.04.09.206
Have you ever found yourself locked out
of a room or building to which you have the key
just not with you, or cannot be found
at the moment.
Have you rummaged through your purse,
fingers scraping and digging to find the key
but without luck
you tear your bag apart and into pieces.
Its contents spilled out and everywhere.
Misplaced objects
like pens
or chapstick
or notebooks
or pieces of scratch paper
with words and phrases and to-dos.
When really none of it matters
because all you want and need
is the key you have
but cannot find
to open the door
and go back inside.
i am told that he walks beside me
and that he is here with me now
and comes around often.
yet this emptiness and aloneness i feel
is so present
and gripping
that it strangles.
and makes me hold on
to everything around me
like
the crystals i grip in my pocket
or
the lump i fight with to swallow
in my throat
and
the people
like you.
12.04.09.200
If what is happening
is in fact not my fault
or choosing
but everything around me's
underlining, undiscovered weight
then really
my chains are not my own.
But if
these struggles
I have chosen on my own
to carry and to bear
are mine
then who to break the locks
but me?
12.04.09.206
Have you ever found yourself locked out
of a room or building to which you have the key
just not with you, or cannot be found
at the moment.
Have you rummaged through your purse,
fingers scraping and digging to find the key
but without luck
you tear your bag apart and into pieces.
Its contents spilled out and everywhere.
Misplaced objects
like pens
or chapstick
or notebooks
or pieces of scratch paper
with words and phrases and to-dos.
When really none of it matters
because all you want and need
is the key you have
but cannot find
to open the door
and go back inside.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
I'm like Gumby. I keep on bending and bending, never breaking completely. Just like 87%.
can't stop/won't stop
oh my. hold up. who be I kidding? this is going to be crazy.
am I ready and strong enough to hear everything? well. I guess I will find out. I am really testing limits lately-mine and others'.
what T has to tell me may be healing, may help, may start me afresh. or it may just give me the heeby jeebys.
The good thing about clay, though, is that it totally molds back together if it does break. It's indestructible really.
oh my. metaphors are killing me lately.
bear with me.
can't stop/won't stop
oh my. hold up. who be I kidding? this is going to be crazy.
am I ready and strong enough to hear everything? well. I guess I will find out. I am really testing limits lately-mine and others'.
what T has to tell me may be healing, may help, may start me afresh. or it may just give me the heeby jeebys.
The good thing about clay, though, is that it totally molds back together if it does break. It's indestructible really.
oh my. metaphors are killing me lately.
bear with me.
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