Monday Mindfulness

Cultivating Strength, Joy, Calm & Resilience


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Walking in the light

Feet to the earth,

Surrounded by air.

Sounds of rustling leaves, branches, and brush accompany every step.

The whispers and shadows of the forest

offer glimpses of light and dark,

solemn quiet and crashing thunder,

scents of decay and signs of new birth.

Never alone, the choice always exists.

To walk with the

doubting self,

the fearful heart,

the closed mind.

Or to soften into

the grace,

the power,

the love,

and

the joy

of choosing

to walk alone

through these woods.


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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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Under the Moon

What would happen if I unleashed my wild self?
The parts of me that move freely, wisely, and instinctively.

If I tore off the garments of social norms and constraints that subconsciously influence my thought patterns and actions?

What if I could be in control and uninhibited?

Harness my passions and balance discipline with fearlessness.

Could I harmoniously exist between the light of rationality and the darkness where my wild, latent parts reside?

Can I embrace and express the dual aspects within me of passion and wisdom, freedom and structure, consciousness and instinct?

In honing my adaptability, I find the courage to assert the authenticity of my multifaceted self,

To roam freely yet wisely under the moon,

To unleash the inner beast and utilize knowledge and intuition to fully experience life,

and for life to fully experience me.


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Song of Triumph

Embrace this new beginning.

You are protected and guided by love.

There is no need to pretend to be something you are not.

Lay down the sword you hold against your own heart.

Be who you are.

Allow your memories to sing like sweet songs of triumph and strength,

Of your courage and vitality everlasting.

Have faith that what is yet to come will nourish and comfort your soul.

Move forward with humbled confidence,

A vigilant warrior armed with a quiver of compassion and sensitivity.

Find power, stability, and strength in the quiet and stillness of the winter,

Knowing that you are never truly alone,

And will forever and always be loved.


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Hidden Treasures

Open the box.

Release the wounded,

dejected, and painful parts.

Be not afraid

that they will multiply

or grow bigger

if you let them out,

for as soon as

you hold them

on a platform

to be seen,

they become

fragile,

small,

sweet,

needing nothing

more than the space to dissolve,

into the open air,

into the rolling sea

of being,

where they become

nourishment

for our greatest

dreams,

successes,

and gifts.


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Seeds of Desire

Across the barren soil of imagination are strewn seeds of desire.

They float through the air like translucent orbs, barely noticeable.

Gradually, they land, softly burrowing into the jagged and uneven ground before them.

They are compelled to nestle in,

trusting that as they are swallowed up by the soil somehow this is what they need to grow.

And so they make themselves small, quiet and still,

compelled to sprout in time,

willing to grow slowly with care.

They will face the drought of unworthiness,

resistance as they break through and change the barren land,

impatience as they require much tending before they produce any flowers or fruit,

and fear that they may not survive at all.

The patient gardener knows this.

With an eye on the potential magnificence, beauty, and need for these seeds to flourish,

nurturing instead of forcing.

Waiting joyfully,

the gardener balances hope with knowing,

confident that with proper care, attention, consistency, and flexibility,

in due time these seeds will fully grow into their potential

and from them will come more translucent orbs ready to contribute to the wildest, most beautiful, richest landscape imaginable.


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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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Be Happy

Hold happy,

Tenderly like a baby bird,

Freely like a paintbrush,

Opening like the ocean.

Let in roll and splash.

Let it rock and sway.

Let it ripple and toss

With laughter and lightness.

But most of all

Let it be fully expressed

Without letting it go.

Let happy be

A natural extension

Of all that you do

Until all you are is happy.


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Waxing

As the moon waxes,

so does my confidence.

I boldly embrace the lessons of the past,

peeling away the darkness,

revealing with wisdom, grace, and humility,

the path of mistakes,

missteps, and injury,

owning them all as

valuable elements,

as every lesson

forms the substance of

what fills in

as the shadows step back

and the moon softly shines.


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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.