Breathing Lessons 2

Posted on April 20, 2013 by Jennifer

Breathing
Lessons 2

Try
This:

Imagine
breathing in Light.

Imagine
the air

Being Light.

Imagine
drawing Light

Into you,

Into the
cells

Of your
cells,

Allowing
it to gradually

Illuminate
your mind,

Your heart,

Your whole
body,

Like the
dawn of a new day.

Let
each breath of Light

Bathe and
cleanse you.

Let the
Light breathe

Into the
shadows,

And let
it be

Like a
cool, summer wind.

Let
the Light

Breathe
into any tension

You may
be feeling,

Any darkness,
any worry.

Imbue them
all

With a
calm, gentle

Healing
breath

Of
Light.

Try
breathing this way

Every day,

All the
time.

Breathe
in Light

And radiate

Wisdom

Wherever

You go.

I Am a Star: A Creative Visualization for Children of All Ages

Posted on April 17, 2013 by Jennifer

I Am a
Star:

A
Creative Visualization

For Children

Of All
Ages

I originally
wrote this for my first graders but it can easily be applied to any age
children—even grown-ups. It was
originally written as a song, which you’ll see (hear) in a minute. I am presenting the visualization here as if you
are going to do it. That way, you can
get to know it before you share it with any children in your care. Once you have learned it and want to share it
with say, children aged 5-7, you can dovetail it with a little arithmetic study
and look at the number 5 as a living thing—it’s a star (pentagon),

and it lives
in the center of an apple cut in half width-wise,

and in the form of a human
being with their arms and legs outstretched.

That said,
the visualization is short yet profound, especially for those children already
carrying the idea that they aren’t good enough, or that they’re bad, stupid, or
dumb. This little visualization, when done
regularly, will help such children (and all children) touch their innate
goodness and light.

You can do
this visualization anywhere and anytime you need to feel yourself filled with
Light. J

OK, let’s
get started.

Watch this
video beginning at 4:13 so you can learn the song. Let yourself sing it and freely move the gestures
(or make up your own). Young children
especially learn with their whole body, so definitely encourage them to do the
gestures, and you can do that best by doing the gestures first and then with
the children.

The words to
the song are as follows:

I am
star with a Light in my body,

I am a
star with a Light in my mind,

I am a
star with a Light in my heart,

I shine
my Light all of the time.

I shine
for myself and I shine for you,

I
shine my Light in all that I think, say, and do.

Find
a comfy place to sit or stand.

Close
your eyes.

Breathe
in slowly and deeply

Filling
your belly.

Hold
that breath a second or two.

Then
slowly let that breath go.

Do
that 3 or 4 times.

Now
look inside your mind.

Find
your star.

Find
the star that lives in you.

Everyone
has a star living in them.

Find
your star. See your star.

See
your star shining within you.

It’s
there, just behind your eyes,

Right
there in your mind.

You
can feel it

Shining
in your heart.

Be
with your star.

Let
its Light shine in you.

And
today

Let
your star shine

In
your thoughts.

Let
your star shine

In
your deeds.

Let
your star shine

In
the words you speak.

Let
your star shine

In
all that you do.

Hold
that star.

It
is always with you.

Forever
more.

That
star IS you.

Now
be in silence for a few moments

Seeing
your star shining within you.

Now
open your eyes.

Know
that you shine.

Know
that YOU

Are
a star.

As you go
through the day with the young children (or yourself) you’ve shared this visualization
with, you can point out times when they share star-thoughts, star-actions, and star-words. Praise your children as they shine. Praise yourself as you shine.

Have fun,
and keep shining. J

“This
little light of mine….”

Breathing Lessons

Posted on April 15, 2013 by Jennifer

Breathing
Lessons 1

Try
this:

Imagine
breathing

With your
whole body.

Imagine
receiving your next breath

With every
cell and every muscle.

Imagine
them all

Inhaling
and relaxing.

As you
visualize this,

Focus
your attention

On inhaling
peace and light.

Keep
doing this and the image

Of your
whole body breathing

Will blossom
into reality.

You will
actually feel your body tingling,

You will
feel more alive,

More alert,
more awake,

More full
of praise.

So try
it,

Breathe,

Breathe
with your whole body.

Honeysuckle Wind: Some Inspirational Thoughts and Haiku On the Glorious Subject Of Spring + A Bonus EFT Video

Posted on April 4, 2013 by Jennifer

Honeysuckle
Wind:

Some
Inspirational Thoughts and Haiku

On the Glorious
Subject Of Spring

A Bonus EFT
Video

Dear Beautiful
Spring Morning,

Thank you for
showing us with your whole being

that hope and possibilities

are realities
blooming everywhere.

Seeds recognize
light ~ for it lives within their heart ~ two lights become one

Inside the heart’s
mind ~ think thoughts infused with wonder ~ and become the spring

Stop a moment
and think of this:

the
ever-blossoming sky is moving through you right now.

We all live and
breathe as one

Sleeping spring
flowers ~ bow their heads in the moonlight ~ dreaming of morning

Honeysuckle
wind ~ finds its way into my heart ~ filling me with joy

Rise, open your
hands ~ lift them to the morning sky ~ then take and give light

The fresh warm
sunlight ~ is midwife to the newly born ~ flowers of spring

Blossom spring
morning ~ open your petals to the sun ~ and praise the light

Dear Creator,
Who thinks in flowers and birdsong,

may my thoughts
be so free and so fresh,

and so abundantly
generous as yours

The Choice, A Story for Anyone Who Has Ever Lost A Loved One

Posted on February 23, 2013 by Jennifer

I originally wrote this story almost two years ago for my friend Jean Raffa. For some reason I never published it. Recently I heard about a new friend who lost a beloved pet and is moving through her grief, and I remembered this story. So I decided now is a good time. This story isn’t just about the loss of a pet, but about anyone–human or animal that has passed to the other world. It is a story about choices. And while it doesn’t completely describe my spiritual beliefs about the afterlife, it is a story of possibilities. It gives a glimpse of a possible answer as to why certain tragic things happen. Perhaps it is naive, that’s OK. I don’t profess to have any answers. It is really meant to bring a little comfort for anyone grieving. It is also meant to stir the imagination and the heart and to help anyone struggling with loss to gradually blossom into healing.

The Choice

The child
walked through the field of light weeping, looking for his dog. He called its name as he brushed his hands
over the tops of the radiant wheat. Suddenly
he heard the soft beating of wings and when he turned towards the sound, an
angel had alighted at his side.

For a long
time they said nothing. She walked beside
him with her hands cupped at her belly, looking straight ahead. He swiped a stick at the ground.

“I miss
him,” he said.

“He is your
friend,” she said.

“But I
thought friends never left you. That’s what the other angel said.”

“They don’t leave
you. But they’re spirits, just like you
and I, and so sometimes–well, sometimes when the unexpected happens, they get
lost for awhile, just like us.”

The boy was
quiet a moment. He knew what she meant by unexpected, for here he was walking the
illuminated fields of heaven with an angel.

“So Bear’s
lost?” He asked.

“In a manner
of speaking. But he’s looking for
you. And he’ll find you, you can count
on that. He’s a clever dog.”

“Do I have
to just wait for him to find me? Couldn’t I look for him too?”

“Of course,”
said the angel, “in fact, your love for him acts as a beacon. Through the hazy distances of memory and
through the corridors of his love for you—he will find you. He will come.”

The angel
placed her hand around his shoulder and pulled him closer.

“Keep
calling him,” she said, “he’s listening.
And keep being yourself—for it is when you are being yourself the most that
you attract your beloved.”

“Do you
suppose he’s upset that I left him?” asked the boy, his voice catching in his
throat.

“Try to stop
thinking about it like that,” the angel answered. “You didn’t leave him. You made a choice. After the accident, when the Great Light
asked if you wanted to remain here, you said yes, that’s all.”

“But I
should have never said yes. I was being
selfish.”

“Selfish?”
said the angel, “So you had the opportunity to stay here, in heaven, away from
the sickness that surrounded you, and you call that selfish?”

“He’s there though. I left him there and you know how daddy
treated him.”

“Your daddy
is a different man after the accident.
Your choice to stay here has changed him. His heart broke in just the perfect way as to
let the Light in. He will never mistreat
anyone or anything again. He is a new
creation. And if you would have gone
back, he would still be steeped in his disease, so no more talk of being selfish.”

“But what
about mom?” said the boy.

“You don’t
think she’s been born again watching your father be born again? You don’t think she’s a better person
too? Your choice to stay here has
changed them both. There’s hope for them
now. They are helping thousands of
families with their project. Many, many
lives will be saved as a result of their
choice to build upon your choice.”

“OK, OK,” so
I’m not selfish, but I still want Bear.”

“Of course,”
said the angel.

“I won’t
stop calling for him until he finds me,” said the boy.

“Or you find
him,” said the angel.

“I’ll keep
praying too,” said the boy.

“You are
praying,” she said, “with every step and tear and word you are praying; by just
being yourself—living the way you are living here in this world of Light and
Use—you are praying. Don’t ever worry
about not praying. Everything you do is
a prayer, Dear Brave Heart.”

And with an unfurling
of wings she was gone.

He stood in
the river of white shining grass and started calling again for Bear. All day he called and walked in the bright field–calling,
calling for his beloved Bear. He walked
past ponds and fields of wild flowers dappled with bees and butterflies. He walked past palaces and through forests of
redwoods that towered into the sky of heaven.

And just as
he was going to give up for the day, he heard angels singing. He spun around. When the angels sing that song—the welcoming song—there is a new arrival. The last time he heard it his great Aunt Ivy
appeared. He ran towards the sound, for
when heaven rejoices at a homecoming, the sound is indescribably wonderful, and
everyone drops what they’re doing and comes running to be a part of the
welcoming of another soul home. As he
ran he forgot about Bear and instead thought about how happy whoever it is will
be to have returned to their dearest, truest loves.

When he reached
the center of heaven he stopped. He
shook his head. He was stunned. The hosts of heaven, the Great Light, and every
soul from every part of the celestial world had gathered around something
sitting in their midst.

It was a
black and white shaggy dog.

“Bear!” He shouted. And at the sound of his name, Bear took off
running–fairly galloping over the snowy white grass. He leapt into the boy’s embrace knocking them
both into a tumble of fur and laughter.

The boy held
him, weeping on his neck. Bear panted
happily, licking the boy’s face with big, sloppy kisses.

His angel
moved towards them, smiling, singing.

“I didn’t
know they sang the welcoming song for animals too,” laughed the boy with his
arms still around Bear.

“All souls,”
she said, “we sing for all souls.”

“When will I
learn the welcoming song?” He asked, sniffling and rubbing Bear behind the
ears.

“Now that
Bear’s with you,” she said, “you are complete. The welcoming song is within you
now—part of your own voice.”

And that’s
when he felt his shoulder blades change their shape. They extended out and upwards, back and open;
and a certain, splendid heaviness sprouted painlessly in two directions. He
opened and closed his newly sprouted wings as he stood, keeping his hand on
Bear’s head. He smiled at Bear and at the angel and began laughing the laugh of
eternal joy.

****

Kneeling by
the side of the road, the police officer put his hand on the side of the dog’s bleeding
head. “He’s gone,” he said. “There was nothing you could do. Don’t blame yourself. It’s dark.
Hard to see.”

“He just
jumped across the road,” the woman said, sniffling and throwing her hands up in
despair. “He was running like he was looking
for something. I didn’t see him until it was too late.”

“I
understand,” said the policeman, “are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes,” she
said, and then she slowly tilted her head and looked up at the stars.

“Do you hear
that?” she asked.

“What?”
asked the policeman.

“Singing,”
she said, “I hear singing.

Thoughts From the Heart, a Collection of Random Musings and Inspirations

Posted on February 18, 2013 by Jennifer

Thoughts
From the Heart

A
Collection of Random Musings

And
Inspirations

Sure, the razor’s edge exists. So does the edge of praise, of openness, of breathing freely,
and laughter. We choose the path we walk.

People say to trust yourself, just meditate, go inside.
What if inside is a mess? We all need mentors to help us sort things out
sometimes.

Transforming black and white thinking into the rainbow palette
of reality means opening the heart to the many shades of now–the many shades
of living an alive life.

Crying is for the soul as rain is for the flowers…Water
the garden of the heart with tears, tears of sorrow, tears of laughter.

There is so much light in the darkness. One spark from
your imagination, one note from the song of your heart is enough to create the
dawn.

Soul calls come every moment, every second; from the
Beloved, from your dreams, from the world. Answer with your whole life.

I used to believe as one
progressed on the spiritual path that it got narrower. Now I know it broadens, opens, blossoms into
more; more possibilities to praise, more opportunities for gratitude, more
discoveries of healing, more variations of expressing eternal truths, more tolerance
of others, more compassion for both myself and those around me. This is the
Yoga of the Christ, the Buddha, the Divine Mother, the One Light Shining Within
Us All. This is the Yoga of Praise. This is the Yoga of Song. This is the Yoga
of Joy.

Move in the direction of your dreams. They are the
compass rose emblazoned on your heart, and they will always lead to verdant
shores.

Let the poem write you.

Dear Sun, as you filter through the curtains, please do
the same in my mind. Don’t let the dusty
doubts and fears block your way.

Be the one who dances with their dreams. Be the one who spreads the wings of their creativity
and soars above fear and shame.

Be the one who embraces their divinity and lives the life of being called to shine. Be the one
who accepts and shares their given glory.

Be the one who rings the bells of freedom and rises to meet the horizon. Be the one who walks
hand in hand with gratitude and praise.

The Breath of the Creator: A Poetic Meditation on the Nature of Creativity

Posted on February 8, 2013 by Jennifer

The Breath of the Creator:

A Poetic Meditation on the Nature

of Creativity

By Joseph Anthony

The breath of the
Creator

rises from the heart of
the soul.

It rises and expands,
sending stars and planets

spinning into sweeping,
pirouetting orbits.

Upon its current, flows
a song.

As the song blossoms
into an infinite variety

of tones and timbers,
it leaves whale-filled oceans

and bear-filled forests
in its unfurling wake.

Entire continents erupt
on the anthem of its chorus

and spreads around the galaxy
like a majestic spiraling storm—

a storm of exaltation
and wonder,

a storm of unending
praise

thrumming with the
pulsations of creation.

It lifts tired faces,
dries solitary tears, and soothes hearts

that ache to be seen.

As it rises it is sung
from the throats of millions of singers

that rejoice in such
moments

of transcendence.

It blends through all
languages

and drips from the lips
of poets and shamans,

healers and nuns whispering
prayers in solitude

and in gatherings, as
tapestries roll

from the looms of their
longing.

It is the song of all
songs.

It is the music behind
all things.

It shines from the
colors and textures

of every flower and
feather, every snail shell

and curve of the eagle’s
talon.

It rings from the
laughter of children and resonates

upon the walls of the
minds of writers

formulating sentences
filled with syllables

of devotion and the utter
need to share the truths

of their experiences
and images from the wellspring

of their imaginations.

And as this song rises,
it touches your heart,

your lips, your ears,
and leaps from your fingertips

as embrace those you love,

including yourself.

It becomes your
becoming.

It threads your every
word and breath.

It lifts your dreams on
waves of energy,

smoothing them out over
the landscape

of satisfied fulfillment.

And you are part and parcel
of that song,

that music of the
spheres ringing

through all things.

It is your blood, the
breath of your breath,

the voice of your voice,

the melody of your
heart’s desire.

Run with it, dance with
it, sing along with it

in full consciousness,

and live,

truly live.

Spread the harmony
through your own body,

family, community, and places
of worship and work.

Let the world hear the
voice of the Creator

resounding through the
living of your dreams

and in the sharing of
the unending gift

that is you.

Haiku From the Heart, Part II, A New Collection of Inspirational Haiku

Posted on January 28, 2013 by Jennifer

Haiku
From the Heart II

A New
Collection of Inspirational Haiku

by Joseph Anthony

The winter moon sleep ∞ dreaming silver light below ∞ shining
into prayers

Silent winter trees ∞ silver shoulders holding hope ∞ waiting
for the spring

Insomnia sings ∞ softly within my breathing ∞ of moonlit
winters

When seeking the soul ∞ search the mirror of your loves ∞
and where your dreams fly

January freeze ∞ makes me dream of fireflies ∞ rising
from the grass

With a touch of grace ∞ the heart bursts into blossom ∞
praising the sunlight

The world enlightened ∞ by the wonder of each child ∞
shining from their eyes

So much pain exists ∞ in every heart and spirit ∞ speak
gently today

Reading life’s fine print ∞ I notice a smiley face ∞
hidden at the end

Souls blossom slowly ∞ petal by petal they bloom ∞
sharing fragrant light

A circle is born ∞ dancing with the Beloved ∞ deep into
the night

Praising is the way ∞ that blooms the way to heaven ∞
that draws angels near

The Shadow, the Tree, and the Heart of Darkness, A Story of Hope

Posted on January 24, 2013 by Jennifer

Good Day, Dear Wonder Child Blog
Readers,

Today’s entry is a story inspired by
Dr. Jean Raffa and her wonderful blog, Matrignosis. Her last few posts have been about shadow
work, and this story, “The Shadow, The Tree, and the Heart of Darkness,” came
tumbling out in about 20 minutes after reading her latest and beautiful entry,
The Light Shadow. Jeanie is gracious enough
to allow me to submit my stories to her blog as comments. Imagine that, someone who welcomes four-page
comments (I welcome them too, by the way)!
Anywho, this story is about a shadow, a girl playing the recorder, a tree, the Heart of Darkness, and yes, hope.

The Shadow, the
Tree, and the Heart of Darkness

For Jeanie, the wisest
snowy owl I know.

“So,” said
the Shadow, born in the woods, “this is it.
This is where I grow.” She looked
behind her at the sun just beginning to set and she smiled a delicious smile. “Excellent,” she grinned, and as she spoke
she elongated, spidering out, touching everything around her, and everything
around her crumpled just a little bit as her fingers passed over them. Not that it hurt. Her touch was simply cold.

The tree
whose base she was connected to swayed a little as she moved out over the
forest floor. She swayed with him. He leaned just far enough for the squirrel in
a neighboring tree to be able to land in his boughs. The shadow leaned too. When the tree caught the song of the wind in
his highest branches he had to sing. As
he sang he swayed even more than before, and as he did the squirrels and the
birds in his arms closed their eyes, enjoying the ride.

“Ah, excuse
me, tree?” the shadow interrupted.

For a long,
annoying moment, the tree just kept singing and swaying, ignoring her, or
simply not hearing her, she didn’t know which.

“Yo! Tree!” she shouted.

Slowly, in
his own time, the tree swayed to a stop and his voice trailed off over the
hillside like a whispered secret.

“Yes,” he
said softly.

“Would you
mind not moving so much? I’m trying to
spread out here and it’s hard to grab things when you’re dancing.”

“I see,” he
said, “and why are you trying to grab things?”

“That’s what
I do, I’m a shadow. Shadow’s grab
things, take them under their wings, tuck them in the folds of their coats,
stuff them into their pockets, smother them with affection.”

“I see,” the
tree said again, “and why do you do these things?”

“It’s just
what I do. Now would you stand still for
a few minutes, please? You see that girl
over there, the one playing the recorder on that rock? I want to reach her next before the sun gets much
lower.”

“What will
happen to her when you reach her?” asked the tree.

“She’ll stop
playing. Doubts will creep in. She’ll think I mean more than I do. She’ll bring to mind her parent’s displeasure
of her music.”

“And then?”

“She’ll stop
playing for years. And a little piece of
my soul will graft onto her and when she gets up to walk home I will go with
her. And the next time she thinks about playing the recorder, she’ll stop and
think about displeasing her parents and she won’t play. She’ll stay nice and cozy in me.”

“I see,”
said the tree, “I think I am going to sing again.”

“No! Wait!”
Damn!” yelled the shadow, but it was too late. The tree was singing, swaying; only this time
his swaying was more of a swirl. This
time his singing was more of a chant.
This time he threw his voice across the path to where the girl sat
playing recorder. He joined her melody,
joined her breath, joined her fingering, and she looked up, felt his presence,
rose and began to dance. She danced
towards him. She bowed with all the
grace of the dawn and he bowed in return.

“Ah, thank
you,” said the shadow, “you have brought her closer.” And as the shadow began climbing the girl’s
leg, the tree bent down and lifted the girl onto his shoulders.

“Damn you,”
yelled the shadow. And before she knew
what was happening, the tree bent down and hoisted her up as well.

“Wait a minute! What are you doing?” the shadow screamed.

But the tree
he just kept singing. The tree he just
kept dancing. And the girl sensed the
shadow’s presence and saw her there on the branch next to her. And in a moment that froze time; in a moment
that stopped the turning of the earth; in a moment where the forest and all of
the trees, and all living things—the hills and the water—the birds and the
planets—all of them paused, stopped, for the girl had reached out and touched
the shadow’s hand. The shadow trembled
like water and instantly burst into tears.
The girl leaned over and embraced her, and the tree threw leaves and
sobs to the wind. He swayed and he
danced, and the sky broke open in waves of silken purples and crimsons; the sun
smiled, winked his eye, and bowed in deference to the moon. The moon appeared, saw the embrace and
instantly sent down a silver shawl to cover them both, and there they sat in
each other’s arms as the world began to turn and dance again.

After a long
while, the girl let go and wiped the shadow’s tears, looking at her dark,
mysterious face.

“I was
playing for you,” she said.

“What?” said
the shadow, “What did you say?”

“I knew you
were there. I saw you coming. I have spent time in many a shadow. I know what’s inside you—the voices of doubt,
self-criticism, shame. I know the fear
you carry. I also know that your desire
to surround me isn’t purely selfish.
There is comfort in your wings, there is silence in the hallways of your
heart, there are theatres in your mind where I can act out the scenes of my
life, and you know very well all that would give me a safe place to hide from
my parents.”

“I did not
mean to harm you,” said the shadow.

“I know,”
said the girl.

“The truth
is I wanted to collect you into my folds with the hope you would one day find
the courage to face your family and just be yourself. You couldn’t do that without me.”

“I know,”
said the girl.

“How do you
know these things?” asked the shadow.

“The tree
tells me,” she said, “he sings to me, so do the birds and the streams, and the
roots and rocks. My dreams tell me, my
music tells me, the caterpillar becoming a butterfly tells me. They tell me that everything shadow-dappled
is beautiful. That shadows are part of
the way of light. In fact, without
shadows there would be no light. On my
long walks in nature I have come to terms with my parent’s disapproval. I have come to terms with my sadness and
pain. I have come to terms with the fact that I will have to strike out on my
own in order to live my dreams.”

“Not alone,”
interjected the tree.

“Yes,”
blushed the girl, “You’re right, not alone.
I carry the tree’s love in my heart, his beauty and steadfastness, his
desire to shelter and…”

“To shade,”
laughed the tree.

“Wait a
minute,” said the shadow sitting up, “you’re a part of all of the work I do, of
course! Why didn’t I see it before?”

“You weren’t
looking,” laughed the tree, “but the fact is without objects, real or imagined,
to block the light, you wouldn’t exist.
I know your coldness can be refreshing.
Your shade can help the weary traveler.
It’s all in how you desire to be used.”

At that
moment the sun went down completely and the woods went entirely black, black as
coal.

“Oh my,”
said the girl, leaping down from the tree, “I’m late. Oh goodness, how am I going to get home? It’s pitch black!”

Then the
shadow leapt down, opened her wings, and said, “Let me take you through the
darkness. I know the heart of the
darkness, we are part and parcel of one another. You may have spent time in a shadow before,
but what I carry deep within me, only those who have eyes that can pierce the
darkness know what I carry deep inside. I
promise to bring you home safely. You
have helped me see my own light, let me share with you the heart of darkness.” The shadow opened her arms and invited the girl
in. The girl turned, embraced the tree
and then walked slowly into the shadow’s arms.
Darkness engulfed her like black water.
She held her breath until she opened her eyes and when she did, in the
heart of the heart of the shadow, was a cathedral lit by a thousand candles,
the moon was there delivering homilies on the alchemy of grieving, the sun was there
smiling, listening from the first row, tears steaming from his face. She felt herself being lifted, the entire
cathedral of the night lifted with her and spun gently, like a giant ship in an
ocean of ink, and turned in the direction of her house. She laughed and sat down next to the sun and
listened far into the night about images, and wonder, about hope and the power
of praise, about how laughter and tears walk hand in hand, about how light and
shadow live and breathe and dance as one.

And the
tree? The tree leaned into the darkness,
and held a place for the sleeping birds and squirrels. He also held a place, high up in his highest
branches, for that winged, piece of the moon—the snowy white owl, who can see
into the shadows and find sustenance where no one else would ever think to
look.

Haiku From the Heart, a Collection of Inspirational Haiku

Posted on January 20, 2013 by Jennifer

Haiku
From the Heart

A
Collection of Inspirational Haiku

Dear Wonder
Child Blog Readers,

Thank you
for stopping by. Today I am going to
share some inspirational haiku poems I wrote on twitter recently. They are not traditional haiku in that they
don’t always “cut,” (the root in haiku
means “to cut”) in the sense of having a surprise ending, or an ending that
jolts (gently or not so gently), or an
ending that wakes you up. I am simply
using the 5/7/5 syllable form to couch some images and spiritual ideas. I enjoy the challenge of using a set structure
to fit words into. It’s like a puzzle or
a game that yields satisfying results (for me, that is, and hopefully for you,
Dear Reader). In traditional haiku
nature is almost always mentioned in some way and the season of the year is
often implied or explicitly stated.
Sometimes I follow this tradition, sometimes I don’t. Mostly, I am just having fun sharing poetically
wrought insights and images that might inspire you to keep moving towards your
heart’s desire, or to rise up and sing, to love yourself and the world around
you, to forgive and be forgiven, or to be filled with hope and wonder. These are some of the goals of my haiku. Of course, there are some written just to be
silly. I’ll sprinkle in a couple of
those in another entry. Let me know what
you think if you would please and feel free to add some of your own.