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Poetry Podcast – Seeking Light: Mindful Presence

Hello, everyone,

I have a new memoir up on my poetry podcast called Seeking Light: Mindful Presence. This memoir reveals how poets seek light, the mindful presence, in their poetry.  Being present to the NOW fosters insights and promotes healing.

https://meelosmom.podbean.com/e/seeking-light-mindful-presence/

“Poetry: The Memoir of the Soul”     https://meelosmom.podbean.com/

(If you have the Podbean app, you can see the featured images on my podcasts. Also, I am using the same image in this post.)

My gratitude for the original digital art, Seeking Light, by my sister, Martha Harris (See the featured image for this post.)….. You can find her works of art on Martha’s Artistic Flarings. https://artisticflarings.blog….

My gratitude to my sister Cynthia Cady Stanton, who is an ordained Presbyterian minister and hospice chaplain, for her poems, “Grace Shower” and “We are Needed.” You can find her services for spiritual care, weddings, funerals, and spiritual counseling online at her website https://cynthiacadystanton.com. And her poetry can be found at https://becomingandbeholding.com

My gratitude to Stephen Fuller for his poem, “Silent on Chauncey Creek”. His work can be found on https://FullbeardLit.org. He is Managing Editor of Go Dog Go Café: Where Writers Gather. https://godoggocafe.com. Check out both sites! You can promote your work every Monday and promote other writers’ work every Thursday.

I  also read a poem by The Buddha. “Thought”. You can find more examples of poetry by The Buddha and other Poet-Seers on https://poetseer.org

If you would like to contribute poetry to this podcast, you may submit it to me in a Word document attached in an email to me at meelosmom@gmail.com. On the subject line, indicate it is a submission to this podcast. I can fit it into a theme. In the email, include any pertinent information on yourself and publications you want me to promote, especially for the work submitted.

©Barbara Leonhard, https://extraordinarysunshineweaver.blog and https://meelosmom.podbean.com/

Image “Seeking Light” ©Martha Harris, Martha’s Artistic Flarings, https://artisticflarings.blog

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Poem · Poetry

The Timeless Now

The Timeless Now

May you trust and be

In the present moment, but

When is the Now?

Each second shades to the past.

Each second greets the next!

When is the Now?

Now is the space between

Then and Next.

The stillness between each breath.

Elusive, and yet, luminous.

Not Today.

Not This Week.

Not This Year.

It’s Now,

This very moment

In a space of time,

The minute space between

Then and Next,

Just a bit of time that spans

The space between suns,

So vast it takes millennia to explore.

The space of no breath between

Time expanding and contracting,

Pulling universes together

And apart as

The tides of time,

The space where heart resides

Now and Forever, for

Ever is a vast space of time.

May you find that space

Of abundant stillness

Between Then and Next,

The Timeless Now,

And be reborn to breath.

Copyright©2018/03/28 Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.wordpress.com

Image: “Time Flies” digital art ©Martha Harris See Martha’s Artistic Flarings @artisticflarings.blog

2EE7FF37-F182-4C8A-B5B7-013CBE5D1131

Audio · My Mother · Poem · Poetry

New Audio: I Sometimes Feel Her

I sometimes feel her pressing on my right side.

Why the right? She lingers there.

She leaves me pennies

That appear out of nowhere

When I’ve earned an angel wing.

 

I dreaded her birthday, the first

Since she left.

No cake or cards, no gifts.

Coming up… memories of her end of days.

That call.

 

Her body fighting her,

We watched.

We rallied for her,

Held her close,

Fed her,

Combed her hair.

 

Gregorian chants

Took her in and out of her life.

She spoke the language of angels.

How they argued,

Divine negotiation with intonation

And syllables.

Her voice wasn’t hers at all.

Is this how it goes?

 

And terror gripped her as she faced

The indescribable,

Pushing it away with such force,

We thought

This is it.

Debate and battle gave way more ultimately

To stillness and surrender.

 

Copyright © 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard

Image: My Mother

IMG_0752

 

 

Audio · My Mother · Poem · Poetry

I Sometimes Feel Her

I sometimes feel her pressing on my right side.

Why the right? She lingers there.

She leaves me pennies

That appear out of nowhere

When I’ve earned an angel wing.

 

I dreaded her birthday, the first

Since she left.

No cake or cards, no gifts.

Coming up… memories of her end of days.

That call.

 

Her body fighting her,

We watched.

We rallied for her,

Held her close,

Fed her,

Combed her hair.

 

Gregorian chants

Took her in and out of her life.

She spoke the language of angels.

How they argued,

Divine negotiation with intonation

And syllables.

Her voice wasn’t hers at all.

Is this how it goes?

 

And terror gripped her as she faced

The indescribable,

Pushing it away with such force,

We thought

This is it.

Debate and battle gave way more ultimately

To stillness and surrender.

 

Copyright © 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard

Image: My Mother

IMG_0752

 

 

Audio · Micropoetry · Poem · Poetry · Prose

My Chair: My Stillness

 

My chair

by the daffodils –

a sacred throne.

 

My stillness

fights off two souls

wanting my garden.

 

Sun blankets the snow –

daffodils slowly

raise their heads.

 

These three haiku are related. One Spring, I bundled up in a hoodie since it was a bit chilly and settled in a chair next to the daffodils that I wrote about in the haiku. The snow had melted, and the daffodils had perked up. I was delighted they had survived being snow bound. The two souls were my husband and a music student wanting to play music in the garden. However, they turned away when they saw my quiet repose as I was firmly planted on my throne with no intention of surrendering my place.

I think finding quiet time in nature is very enlightening. That day, I wrote several Haiku since I was able to find the silent space between thoughts. Thoughts are distracting and can hide truth. If I just follow my thoughts, I go nowhere, but if I can meditate in a peaceful setting, I can travel to many places, mainly inward to the source of all poetry. Poems are like dreams – full of symbols open to interpretation. The picture of the chair transformed into a throne by the resurrected daffodils raising their heads from under the blanket of snow was a transforming moment. Despite any obstacle, the soul can rise above the turmoil and danger it faces. Everyone can find these sacred moments and places; everyone can write poetry.

Stillness is the key and stillness is the mountain. If we find stillness, we can hear the chorus of poetry and songs of our hidden potential. Stillness makes us strong and grounded and all knowing, like mountains. Mountains symbolize our core strength and inner wisdom, for they know the secrets of the ages and so are ever lasting symbols of truth. Many ascended masters, like Jesus and Moses, were enlightened on mountains, making mountains a significant source of inner knowing.

Stillness is paradoxical because who would guess that stillness could be so rich with the sound of rhyme and lyrics. We are so busy everyday that we don’t hear these songs which intend to enlighten us. In fact, we are so used to the noise of daily life that we can’t stand to be alone. However, it is necessary to seek out a time and place every day to just listen as well as watch. By observing the symbols of silence, we can write poetry. In my case, pondering the circumstances of the daffodils smothered in snow gave rise to poetry about the human condition. One could trample the daffodils, not seeing how they were suffocating, but one could also observe them and listen to what their message is. This communication gives rise to poetry.

This process of mediating on the silent spaces between thoughts is healing, and if I can’t go to that place for a period of time, it is unnerving. Maybe that is why I do not oblige anyone by surrendering my sacred throne.

(I originally published this blog on another site I had.)

© 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard; poetry and image (my garden) @extrordinarysunshineweaver.blog