Tag Archives: chanting

anger / poem 69

tonight I actually felt how wars start.
the boys across the road were shouting in their swimming pool
while I was seething on my garden bench trying to chant OM

reflections & poem 46

It happened for the second time: I missed a day writing a poem a day. I woke up on my couch, a cat on one side, a dog on the other. Went to bed. So two today.

What to write? The Global Audio Satsang for Baba’s Birthday yesterday? How nine of us celebrated with glorious chanting? How I experienced a great meditation? What does a great meditation consist of anyway? For me, the voices are quieted at least for a little time. I relax and float into Oneness. After all, I was internally chanting OM, the primordial sound. And what a great amrit afterward! I had worked up a hunger and it was satisfied so delightfully.

Later I mowed. Back yard, the partially wild preserve — I used the push mower. Now when I say push mower, I don’t mean gasoline I mean just manually push. Evidently the blades need sharpened. Still the yard is starting to look as if there’s a plan. I have the stone circle, the bench, the little vegetable garden, the compost bin, the wood pile. I have a winding path carved from dog routes and reinforced with mulch. Now I have some low lying grass instead of high growing weeds. My plan is to have more wildflowers by next spring. The backyard is really my place of refuge.

I also mowed some front and side yard. This is with the John Deere riding mower. The third summer and I am still stymied by this piece of machinery. It took several tries to start it (and it’s automatic!). Finally I thought, OK, when I turn the key I’ll wait five seconds like the manual says. Success! What took me so long? For an automatic, it’s more complicated than you might think. But if I start my car without anguish, surely by the end of this summer the mower and I will come to peace. Once I’m in the rhythm of it, I love seeing the instant feedback of mowed rows and the smell of grass. Yes, I even feel powerful riding that horsepower.

Sitting on the deck. Birds are happy. My dogs and cats are, too. I drink homemade lemonade and lazily watch the world.

poem

homemade lemonade & a beautiful day
is this really all I need
to find contentment?

Poetry Mala: a poem a day for 108 days

First, I want to credit Puerhan for this abundant idea! (He is a poet and architect from the UK. His website: >http://puerhan.blogspot.com/search/label/108P).

For those who don’t know, a mala is a Hindu or Buddhist rosary with 108 beads used for focusing when chanting a mantra. As you touch each bead, the practice (japa) helps to center you and it becomes a kinesthetic experience. Suffice it to say, 108 is an auspicious number in both religions (& there are nearly that many reasons why!)

“Poetry Mala”: a spiritual practice to write a 3 line poem a day for 108 days. As soon as I discovered this idea–this morning via Twitter–I knew it was for me. All quarter in the class I’m taking at Women Writing for (a) Change, I have written few poems. I thought this practice would spark poetry–my biggest love–again. And, after all, it’s only 3 lines, very haiku-ish but with no set rhythm or pattern.

So I shall begin!

108 Poems, #1

Back yard, morning sun shining.
Japa in front of stone circle,
vegetables will be growing soon.mala