In winter's grasp, we linger, longing for spring's embrace. Does the waiting make arrival all the more precious? A glowing light across the street reminds me of companionship. Within these cold days gathering, we are the light for each other. Together is our way forward toward blooming.
Often wintertide darkness can seem a season too long. I cradle reminders of past flowers, new growth of green wrapped in warm memories of meandering meadows wide. While frost edges my windows in delicate design. In winter's grasp, we linger, longing for spring's embrace.
“Because the heart dwells in unattended dark, we often forget its sublime sensitivity to everything that is happening to us. Without our ever noticing, the heart absorbs the joy of things and also their pain and care. Within us, therefore, a burdening can accrue. For this reason, it is wise now and again to tune in to your heart and listen for what it carries.
– Let Your Heart Speak, John O’Donohue
along the path of daily breathing to hear my heart’s needs saturation of all to be felt
(all muscles need rest to continue lifting)
I sit inside a song of silence listening for imaginings of the heart possibilities of becoming
Precious is the quiet morning when I sit to breathe, just breathe. The highway hum in the distance, accompanied by a faint unknown rumble, and the caws of a bird, are heard in this stillness. How often does the environment around me go unnoticed as I am going about my day? The box of my mind has me doing and going. The senses of my body are left behind. Every time I stop, and return to my breath throughout the day, I return to a conscious noticing. It is then that I return to my body. My arms, my legs, my heart, and my mind are one again. There is a relief in just breathing.
When I first tried meditation is was unaccessible. Stillness did not feel safe. Letting go was scary. I lived in protection mode and this surrender to motionless living was a foreign land. Bit by bit I have found peaceful connection and I am grateful for all the guides who have helped me along the way.
This poem was inspired by Laura's prompt - Last Year's First Eleven I chose one poem from each month and used the first line to make this new poem. All of these lines were from poems I posted in 2023. Writing this was like a word puzzle.
If you are like me, you have a lot to feel right now. This can be heartbreaking and sometimes even make you feel alone. I am offering these upcoming writing circles for you to pause and gather your words. It is the delight of my heart to hold space for you.
In these circles, we will be slowing down to listen for…
the gifts of this season
poetry that inspires and opens doors
ourselves and others in the circle
Saturday, January 27, 9:30 – 11:00 am PST $20 (two spots left)
Saturday, February 10, 9:30 – 11:00 am PST $20
Sunday, February 18, 1:30 – 3:00 pm PST $20
Circles are limited to six people. Each is a stand-alone offering. You can sign up for one or all. Your first session is free.
Dear readers, Just when I think, why in the world am I writing, blogging, and sending out poems, someone reflects back that it matters to them. I started sharing my poems to honor a friend’s request. It was uncomfortable and sometimes scary. What moved me forward is my belief that if my words connect with one person in a way that they feel less alone, then it is worth it. It is still uncomfortable to share my words and maybe that is part of the process of being seen by others and knowing you don’t have control of any readers’ interpretation.
Over the years I have experienced writing myself forward. I will continue to hold writing circles to support others on this journey. Because of all who have read this blog, I have this amazing learning adventure. Thank you for reading and reflecting back your thoughts. Thank you for sharing yourselves openly. May we heal the world with our loving listening of each other.
Don’t ever give up. Hands of love are reaching for you even when you can’t see them.
Happy New Year, Ali P.S. The photo is of my father’s hand and the hand of my oldest son. It represents healing across the generations.
flashlight batteries - Ali Grimshaw 