Mindful Poetry

(Ryan Kenny) #41

-Jennifer Welwood

Willing to experience aloneness,
I discover connection everywhere;
Turning to face my fear,
I meet the warrior who lives within;
Opening to my loss,
I gain the embrace of the universe;
Surrendering into emptiness,
I find fullness without end.

Each condition I flee from pursues me,
Each condition I welcome transforms me
And becomes itself transformed
Into its radiant jewel-like essence.
I bow to the one who has made it so,
Who has crafted this Master Game;
To play it is purest delight;
To honor its form – true devotion.

  • Jennifer Welwood

(Ryan Kenny) #42


Every day I see or hear something that more or less

kills me with delight, that leaves me like a needle

in the haystack of light. It was what I was born for - to look, to listen,

to lose myself inside this soft world - to instruct myself over and over

in joy, and acclamation. Nor am I talking about the exceptional,

the fearful, the dreadful, the very extravagant - but of the ordinary, the common, the very drab,

the daily presentations. Oh, good scholar, I say to myself, how can you help

but grow wise with such teachings as these - the untrimmable light

of the world, the ocean’s shine, the prayers that are made out of grass?

~Mary Oliver~

(Caroline De Vos) #43

“Your hand opens and closes, opens and closes. If it were always a fist or always stretched open, you would be paralysed. Your deepest presence is in every small contracting and expanding, the two as beautifully balanced and coordinated as birds’ wings.” - Rumi

(Caroline De Vos) #44


Tell me, what was love like?
Was it round or square,
Short or long or of a shape
One would be proud to wear?
I do not know. I only know
so far as its fold extends
That none who knows its shape can say
Where love begins or ends.

Anonymous (from Korea, 16th Century)

(Manolita Farolan Doise) #45

Loved this poem, thought it was something I could print out and give to participants with their certificates.


(Manolita Farolan Doise) #46

Ahhh, so satisfying…


(Gail Zinberg) #47

This the last poem Raymond Carver wrote, it is inscribed on his tombstone.

Late Fragment

And did you get what
you wanted from this life, even so?

I did.

And what did you want?

To call myself beloved, to feel myself
beloved on the earth.

(linda esrick) #48


The raw gritty depths of grief.

Forget all the spiritual books
you have ever read,
the greatest book
is written in flesh and blood,
you can feel it deep down
in the raw wounded places of your life,
Forget this poem
it can never be said.
Forget the piety and sweet safety
of a so-called spiritual life,
just look into the eyes
of everyone you meet,
and feel
the raw gritty depths
of their grief.

-Norah Tunney

Books of Poetry?
(Theresa Vincent) #49

This is one of my favorite poems to sit with, by Pat Schneider, founder of Amherst Writers & Artists –

The Patience of Ordinary Things by Pat Schneider

It is a kind of love, is it not?
How the cup holds the tea,
How the chair stands sturdy and foursquare,
How the floor receives the bottoms of shoes
Or toes. How soles of feet know
Where they’re supposed to be.
I’ve been thinking about the patience
Of ordinary things, how clothes
Wait respectfully in closets
And soap dries quietly in the dish,
And towels drink the wet
From the skin of the back.
And the lovely repetition of stairs.
And what is more generous than a window?

(Lynn Koerbel) #50

Dear Theresa,

Thank you for this. I am taking it into the morning practice here at the 9-day Practicum in Snowmass, CO. Thinking of you with gratitude.

Warmth, Lynn

(Theresa Vincent) #51

Lovely, Lynn. Thinking of you with warmth and smiles, Theresa.

(Gerri January) #52

My Class Eight is next week and as appropriate for beginning the series, this seems fitting for the last class as well!
Thank you so much for this, Lisa

(Jenifer Fraser) #53

I have this poem taped up above my kitchen sink, so that I can wake to it (early) every morning!

(Piero Falci) #54

Who Are You When You Are Not?

Who are you when you are not playing the character you have created? Who are you when you are not imitating, impersonating, or pretending to be someone that you are not? Who are you when you are not trying to please or impress someone else? Who are you when you are not obsessing with what to say, or with the right words to use? Who are you when you are not striving to be perfect, wanting to be someone that you are not?

Who are you when you are not thinking about what you like and what you dislike, what you want and what you don’t want? Who are you when you are not wanting life to match your expectations, wishing the world and people in it to be as you would like them to be? Who are you when you are not daydreaming pleasant fantasies, or daymaring scary dramas? Who are you when you are not plotting how to satisfy your cravings?

Who are you when you are not who you think you are? Who are you, really?

~ Piero Falci

(Andrew Czuchwicki) #55

I have heard a poem about “allowing” at the recent MBSR in mind-body medicine and the 9 day Fundamentals Training but did not get it in any of the poetry packages. Anyone able to help with either posting it or pointing me towards the poet? Kindly Andrew

(Gus Castellanos) #56

Here is the one I am familiar with:
By Danna Faulds
There is no controlling life.
Try corralling a lightning bolt,
containing a tornado. Dam a
stream and it will create a new
channel. Resist, and the tide
will sweep you off your feet.
Allow, and grace will carry
you to higher ground. The only
safety lies in letting it all in –
the wild and the weak; fear,
fantasies, failures and success.
When loss rips off the doors of
the heart, or sadness veils your
vision with despair, practice
becomes simply bearing the truth.
In the choice to let go of your
known way of being, the whole
world is revealed to your new eyes

(Andrew Czuchwicki) #57

Thank you, much appreciated

(Marie Rudzinsky) #58

Simple gratitude !

Be Thankful

Be thankful that you don’t already have everything you desire,
If you did, what would there be to look forward to?

Be thankful when you don’t know something
For it gives you the opportunity to learn.

Be thankful for the difficult times.
During those times you grow.

Be thankful for your limitations
Because they give you opportunities for improvement.

Be thankful for each new challenge
Because it will build your strength and character.

Be thankful for your mistakes
They will teach you valuable lessons.

Be thankful when you’re tired and weary
Because it means you’ve made a difference.

It is easy to be thankful for the good things.
A life of rich fulfillment comes to those who are
also thankful for the setbacks.

GRATITUDE can turn a negative into a positive.
Find a way to be thankful for your troubles
and they can become your blessings.

Author Unknown

(linda esrick) #59

I love this poem…Thank you !!!

(Kristina Pinto) #60

A poem I wrote for our MBSR course…

Dawn All Day

Our neighbors get a rooster,
an orange-faced thug at the new farm nextdoor.
The rooster crows each day at 6 a.m.
5 a.m.
3 a.m.
11 pm.
And any other random hour and minute I might seek quiet.
We lose sleep and patience, each of us.
My children want to start a coyote farm,
or to change the direction in which they practice archery.
We cannot put the rooster on ‘vibrate,’
an alarm no one set in this Right to Farm town.

I learn to breathe.
Mindfully, I notice the sensations
in my pinky toe and earlobe.
I watch my thoughts drifting
from my resume to the laundry to the itch in my earlobe,
which was imperceptible
two minutes ago when I tried to notice it.
Lying down, I scan each nerve,
sometimes without falling asleep.
I stand up and the cat is missing,
escaped to prowl the yard.
We search under every bush, finding him
under a bed, startled by a door slammed by the wind.
I was not practicing cat mindfulness, I tell my husband.
“It’s ok,” he says. “You were just being mindful of something else.”
My earlobe.
I haven’t noticed the rooster in weeks,
his crowing just another wavelength.

I learn to sit in stillness.
With awareness, I listen to sounds
of the dog’s jingling collar,
the cat’s claws on our carpet,
the hawk that lives atop the dead tree out front.
I listen to the jingling thoughts that send my mind down tangents,
clawing at the fragile threads of my best microsecond of mindfulness
and I try to watch these thoughts like that hawk
But watching thoughts is like trying to towel off
while you’re swimming
In this quandary, the rooster crows.
bringing me back
To this moment,
my breath,
my body.
Without judgment, he crows.
Without judgment, I am present,
listening closely, seeking his next call for my awareness.