#sacred-ordinary — Public Fediverse posts

Stumbling Block

It seems I have always been stumbling, tripping over the unintended in a fog of wandering wonder.

The mist has been ever around me, my cloud by day. I am enveloped by mystery.

You do indeed love to surprise me, O God;

two girls find shiny stones in a fountain and their joy chases away the despair at not finding a loved one,

the hospitality of friends lightens the weight upon a heavy chest from a returning to what was and the traveler can breathe again into what will be,

a mother’s words and the night breeze dries a daughter’s tears and she can smile at the deep thrum of a bullfrog,

lovers lie for a moment in the morning and the frustrations of yesterday fade into the quiet beginnings of another day.

It is time then.

I rise up into the bone crackling morning, my body protesting, my spirit already stretching out along the places I will see.

Inside, I find I am ready for more stumbling.

July 29, 2022

Coffee isn't caffeine. It's ceremony.

Grinding beans. First sip at the window, 4:15 AM, Gothenburg still sleeping.

What small ritual makes your morning sacred?

#morningcoffee #presence
#slowliving #simplepleasures
#coffeeceremony #mindfulcoffee #sacredordinary #journaling #mindfulnessjournal

What if the most sacred moments of your day have nothing to do with your meditation cushion?

The same ceramic mug. Luna at the door. Three pages before sleep. These are also practice.

What's sacred in your ordinary day?

#sadhana #sacred #ritual
#yogaphilosophy #morningpractice #presence
#sacredordinary #mindfulritual #dailyroutine

5:30 AM. Winter dark in Gothenburg, Luna unimpressed on the pillow, cold air outside. This was the only constant I had.

Everything else was uncertain, the mat stayed.

What practice held you steady when everything else shifted?

Read the full essay

https://medium.com/@clarainsweden/the-practice-that-holds-me-together-45e595c501d2

#sadhana #dailypractice #grounded
#morningpractice #yogaphilosophy #consistency
#sacredordinary #spiritualdiscipline #morningroutine

Two Windows

A Tanka Sequence

I

In the still morning
you open the window wide
beside the table.
A cool breeze stirs the orchid,
cooling my cup of coffee.

II

Across from your light,
I open the other pane.
The air grows stronger.
Leaves whisper into the room
like all the things left unsaid.

III

Below the hillside,
a woodpecker drums the trees,
red crest among leaves.
A car passes on the road,
then fades into the morning.

IV

The wind kisses me.
I think of you and of us:
two windows open,
facing different landscapes,
yet filled with a single breeze.

Wet Prayer (A Tanka Poem)

Author’s Note: I have written haiku for many years. Heiwa Haiku has often been a spiritual practice for me. Recently I discovered tanka, another form of Japanese poetry, which, put simply, is haiku plus two additional lines. Haiku is generally written as three lines of 5-7-5 syllables respectively. Tanka uses the same format at the beginning and then adds two additional line of 7 syllables each. The following is my first attempt at tanka. I am looking forward to further exploration and sharing my tanka poetry.

The morning is gray,
a soft rain is falling down.
I walk with head bowed, 
watching the mist of my breath,
listening to the wet prayer.

WildWords – Trembling Leaves

It begins in obscurity,
in the graying of the light,
when the lilac leaves tremble
one by one,
like tiny green drums
kissed by wet hands.

I watch them
and know something of prayer:
not certainty,
not brightness,
not the approaching thunder of answer,
but this—
the dimming light,
the damp touch,
the fragile rhythm 
of what remains alive
even when the whole world
seems to fade
at the edges.

And I,
quiet as the darkening earth,
learn again
that creation often prays
before it weeps,

that the body trembles
before the sorrow comes,
that even fear
can be a kind of listening

when the world wans
and the leaves begin
their soft percussion
under the subtle caress of rain.

5:30 AM. Winter dark in Gothenburg, Luna unimpressed on the pillow, cold air outside. This was the only constant I had.

Everything else was uncertain, the mat stayed.

What practice held you steady when everything else shifted?

Read the full essay

https://medium.com/@clarainsweden/the-practice-that-holds-me-together-45e595c501d2

#sadhana #dailypractice #grounded
#morningpractice #yogaphilosophy #consistency
#sacredordinary #spiritualdiscipline #morningroutine

What if the most sacred moments of your day have nothing to do with your meditation cushion?

The same ceramic mug. Luna at the door. Three pages before sleep. These are also practice.

What's sacred in your ordinary day?

#sadhana #sacred #ritual
#yogaphilosophy #morningpractice #presence
#sacredordinary #mindfulritual #dailyroutine

Coffee isn't caffeine. It's ceremony.
Grinding beans. First sip at the window, 4:15 AM, Gothenburg still sleeping.What small ritual makes your morning sacred?#morningcoffee #presence#slowliving #simplepleasures#coffeeceremony #mindfulcoffee #sacredordinary #journaling #mindfulnessjournal

Just a gentle note today:
If you're tired, you're not alone.
If you're quiet, it's not emptiness.
If you don't have answers, you might be closer than you think.

Not everything needs effort.
Not everything needs meaning right now.

Sometimes, just being…
is sacred.

#QuietPresence
#GentleReminder
#SacredOrdinary
#InnerCompassion
#JustBeing
#TenderMoments
#SoftAwakening
#NoNeedToRush
#StillnessSpeaks
#HumanTogether

Continuance

Down these corridors 
have trod the soles of many;
the tramping boots 
of the soldier,
the flapping sandals 
of the campesino,
and now, 
I in bare feet, 
walk this dusty floor,
where shadows run 
and these walls echo
with the voices 
of the past,
the laughter 
and the tears,
silent conversations
whispered to me 
as I pass them,
old and worn,
to my room 
and the mattress 
where
another 
slept.

October 29, 1988
Managua, Nicaragua

Part of the continuing Respectful American series, a selection of writings from my travel journals from Central America in 1988