poet

Another Coffee Musing on a Monday Morning and a Poem

Standard

Another Coffee Musing on a Monday Morning and a Poem

This week I happened upon two outstanding cups of coffee, the sun cleaved breaks through days of rain, and the solstice declared it summertime, finally. Besides a good kiss and an intoxicating conversation—what else is there? Until that sweet spot in autumn—or the elusive golden hour of evening where everyone is cast in that enchanting movie glow—this is it. The now. I often write about being in the present because it’s something I have to practice. I close my eyes for the ohm, and a minute or two in I hear ohm-ma-God—I have to do this today and that today and it takes work to bring it back to center. I love the improvisational acting mantra of “Yes…and.”, where you accept what has been given to you—or what is—and then decide how to proceed from there. So I am gentle in acknowledging my laundry list of to-dos and telling myself I will get to them later—but first I need to free my mind. I know that I will never achieve perfect Zen (mostly because I have already decided that!)—but I am grateful for the quiet moments. I am after all, a Type A personality (notice the Bold and Capital “A”). I don’t love labels for anything—but I know who I am. I am strung tight and a mile-a-minute. I solve problems before they occur—thereby sometimes creating them! Ha! But I’m learning how to shut it down in lotus position and in 20-minute increments, and that has given me handfuls of peace here and there. On that, I’ll share a poem about being.

I am Not a Runner

I am not a runner.

There is nowhere I need to be

That quickly

I don’t need to twist my knees

and pound my sneakers on the asphalt

Keeping time in huffs and puffs

Watching the world in a smear in my peripheral

Engrossed with the noisy buds in my ears

instead of the bud in the garden—

the one with the circling bee

I like to take my time. Take it slow. Take it easy.

Flow.

I like to close my eyes when I move

and inhale silence

and exhale “peace”.

When I move…

I am the tree.

And all the things

I would see in a smear

from the corner of my eye

If I were a runner.