Monday Mindfulness

Cultivating Strength, Joy, Calm & Resilience


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Apart or whole

Gnarled or free flowing.

Grasping or outstretched.

From its center point,

form expands in two directions,

mirrored in the spread of itself confidently into the earth

and it’s expansion courageously into the air.

Nourishment flowing.

Survival impossible without the reflections

of grounding,

of stretching,

of growth,

of change.

One feeding the other,

feeding the other.

Separate in apparent function.

Symbiotic existence as one.


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Tidal Flow

Fresh water mixes with salt.

The gateway brackish,

murky,

churning.

Swimming against the angry currents of

struggle,

despair,

and loss.

Riding the tides with

flexibility

and fortitude,

trust

and patience.

Constantly changing conditions stir hope and determination.

Survival requires adaptability.

Leaving the familiar marshes of the small, quiet stream

to swim in the wide open playground of the ocean.

This choice

a devotion.

This river of tears

leads to an ocean of joy.


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Showing up

I can.

I will.

I am.

Because someone needs it.

My voice,

my intellect,

my pulchritude,

my courage,

my strength,

my kindness,

my grace,

deserve to be

seen,

heard,

felt,

held.

I will make a big, beautiful, bold, magnificent mark on the world…

Because I already have.

Flock to my greatness.

Celebrate me.

Show me pure,

authentic,

loyal,

sweet,

daring,

unconditional love,

the same way I am showing up for you in this world.


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Battle fatigue

The field is bloodied.

Swords scattered and strewn.

In the distance, flowers bloom and a river runs cool and deep.

Who are the victors and what have they gained?

What have the defeated truly lost?

Conflict is inevitable but the results are a choice.

To be a victor without gloating.

To be defeated without wallowing.

To receive and face all that comes without fear.

Each day I have the potential to find strength,

balance,

and humility,

regardless of which end of the sword I face.

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Regal Seagull

I fly out over the waves I call my home in search of nourishment.

In my seeking, I drift farther and farther from my nest.

Eventually, I am too tired to go on.

As I land, I find completely unfamiliar surroundings.

So unnerving, the experience of stepping out of the familiar, even when it’s for my own survival.

Do I retrace my steps and return to what was and where I came from, scavenging and settling for the scraps?

Do I settle into this new space and look ahead, embracing the unfamiliar and uncertain?

I can turn back or I can stand on these new shores.

I can forage and discover.

I pause and tuck under my wings where I find a consistent space of solace and reassurance,

to rest, to calm, and regain focus,

Here, I remember that to truly nourish myself,

I just may need to take flight and perch on new frontiers.

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Interpretations

The wind determines what I hear.

My eyes inform what I see.

The body interprets what I sense.

Thoughts form from what I hear, see, and feel as an experience.

Beliefs cling to these thoughts and this experience as truth,

setting emotions into action and reaction.

In reality, if there is such a thing, it is all just a choice, interpretation best when it comes not from my beliefs but in what I choose to believe.

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Little sips of ease

There is not one giant awakening.

There is no detachment from pain.

There is not one moment of clarity that instantly falls upon the eyes or mind. There is not one instant one experiences freedom.

It happens bit by bit.

Awakening in the darkness,

in the suffering,

in the discomfort,

and in the dis-ease.

We begin to know it, like a dear and cherished friend.

There is a gradual unclogging, unfogging, and unraveling – that is the mystery of change.

That is the beauty of opening oneself to the potentiality of growing into something different.

Bit by bit, moment by moment, like pieces of a puzzle, thoughts and feeling, sensation and experiences, twist and turn and gradually find their way to fit together.

In that coming together, there is a sense of harmony and ease, perhaps even joy, that surfaces on the horizon,

not in overcoming the obstacles,

not in seeing the finished product,

but in feeling the creative process and drinking it all in.


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Acceptance

Witnessing

the immediate state of

the breath,

the thoughts,

the body.

Melting

conditionality,

quality,

quantity,

purpose,

direction.

Recognizing

perceptions of

loss

challenge,

failure,

imperfection,

and resistance

as a readiness

to be

seen,

felt,

and expressed

otherwise.

The next moment,

a transition,

a transformation.

Loving

and cherishing

what shows up

rather than what comes next.


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Perfectly Molting

A bird flies overhead,

magnificent in its form and grace,

perfection in flight.

So present in its existence, movement, and being.

So seemingly joyful and at ease, even as it efforts to ride the currents of air, finding its own way.

A feather lies on the ground,

long, lush, and of complex substance and form,

once essential to the bird’s form and function.

Even the bird,

relying so heavily on its feathers for form, movement, and survival,

molts and looses critical parts of itself to maintain its dynamic essence and functional existence,

growing into its fullest capacity.

It does not wallow in the loss of its parts.

It revels in the new found strength and skill that comes from letting go

and reforming with integrity

and wholeness

over and over again.


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Swimming

I came into this world knowing only me.

Somewhere along the way,

As I grew to know there were others,

I let them define who I came to be.

I thought I should follow.

And as a child, like a duckling, I did.

For that was my only sure source of food, shelter, survival.

But along the way, I noticed

I could forage, swim, and tuck my beak into my own wings

in a way unique to me.

It didn’t mean the others were wrong…

I just didn’t seem to be an exact fit to how they did these things.

I wrestled with knowing that I could make it on my own.

I convinced myself that I still needed to follow and be how and what they dictated.

And then one day, I gave it a small try.

I wandered a little farther away.

I showed up last to the waters edge.

I sat a bit longer in the sun than the rest.

There I found ease and a new sense of knowing.

The aloneness still haunts me from time to time as I am now no longer part of that brood.

And yes swimming on my own takes a new kind of effort.

But I’ve noticed

The others haven’t gone away.

Just their influence over my choices has.

Now we search for food near each other but don’t have to fight for the same piece.

We gather closer together when we need warmth and give space as needed.

We swim in the same waters but no longer in each other’s wake.

It’s a new way of existing,

This coming back to knowing me,

And it seems to be just the way it is supposed to be.