Palms Open

Today I splayed palms open before burnt sage

Offering heart again to open faith

Calling for lessons recently nudged away

For thrills of flattery and heart elation.

 

Adrenaline is not my favorite drug

I prefer to be close to the earth,

Ground heavy pulled toward her core

And my own,

Slowed, humbled, quiet

 

Anticipating awareness of what I’ve tried to hide,

Is here now—

Desire not for thrill over substance

Rather still over flutter,

Sweet surrender in trust that I’ll always have, and do now, exactly what I need.

Enough.

Everything, for thriving as me.

 

Sure, as a Montana summer day is long,

Is my deep heartbeat for lifelong connection,

Ease of silence and words and touch…

While today’s the kind of day I’d lie belly down on earth

Tears flowing into her

Caressing dry Montana soil with my love —

Alone,

Perhaps dog resting at my side, heavy blanket over thighs when I roll to face the sky,

A silent, tender palm across my sternum.

 

“Imagine what you want to feel, she said, and you will.” (Tara Brach)

 

I picture a hand on my chest, a second, back of heart.

My breath deepening to fill a space seemingly larger with imaginary contact of another.

Gratitude pours over as watery eyes threaten safe driving

And I know I am loved beyond belief, eternally.

 

The cedar forest shadows blink over me heaven’s midday light,

And I only wish to be here

Getting lost on this Swan Mountain road

 

Oh Lord you know….

Be still and know that I am God…

 

Praise flows in waves of lyrics landing on quiet tongue and back of throat,

Memories from days of youthful soul-seeking and spirit still fills me up

As if her presence is brand new right now

 

Thank you, thank you, thank you,

 

For courage to sit while others hike away,

To see beauty in the humbling of revelation of true desire,

In the settling reminder of who I am today,

Accepting, watching, letting.

I’ll stay.

 

“Darling, I am here for you.” (Tara again)

 

These are words of self-love and compassion.

This is encouragement of self-companionship and companionship with the earth.

 

A fly buzzing doesn’t flinch me. A bird calling, calls me

Home, within, curious of my own ways

Of calling for what I need,

Often in thoughtless false starts

Not feeling, either, but rote nervous systematic movement toward the unknown

 

It seems soothing simply because I tell myself it’s forward.

If forward equals success, I won’t ever rest.

 

An exhausted life is less adventurous than a soul-turned-inward climb.

 

May I climb as deep within as I do high without.

Clamber as many inward brambles as outward brush,

Endure as deep awareness as surface sensitivities to outside threats

And learn as infinitely the inner working of God’s perfect creation in my soul

As hers in yours

And in the mountains

And in the trees

And in the sky.