Category Archives: Musings

collateral beauty

collateral beauty

note to self

I look for it everywhere
only way to stay sane
today, it’s apricot aloe vera
the pompous blooms
dot our garden
my friend the squirrel
sleek and springtime fat
keeps me company
dances on the fence
while I write
jasmine! saturating the air
eager children on tiptoe
search books in the
little free library my
husband built
it matches our home
what a playful surprise
it takes daily tending
remove extra books
sometimes it’s stuffed to
overflow
fill empty slots
the neatening grounds me
in collateral beauty
delight erupts
take note
drink it in
let it nourish you

share

thank you Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer for the title

2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—they may never turn into anything more or they might flower.

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the weight of impotence

the weight of impotence

note to self

stopped watching
TV world news
clicked off NPR
but on the iPad
catch myself roving
through BBC, CNN
and The Guardian
impelled to know

crushed by agony
in our world, I ponder
my own actions,
minuscule movements
of love, one in 7.9 billion
7.9 billion!
impotence weighs me down

and yet,
the eye of the heart flames—
see, over there,
the mare licks her foal
still amniotic wet
long, slow strokes to
ground him into life

with tender fierceness
watch the red-tailed hawk
feed snake to
squawking fluff balls
or the hospice nurse plump
pillows for the failing elder,
offering gentle words

oh please! dear self
faced with global turmoil
even though you
lie awake and quail,
remember—
thought is ineffectual
it holds no other sway

2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—they may never turn into anything more or they might flower.

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broken and beautiful

broken and beautiful

note to self

oh my God, we are
broken and beautiful
every one of us
admit it or not
“we” includes
bright California poppies
filled with sunshine,
thief in broad daylight,
a knee-shaking kiss,
the rooster shagging
hens in the field,
incessant barking dog

how can it be like this?

how can it not?

our world is
kintsugi, broken—
a cobalt bowl
lovingly repaired with
rivers of gold
again
again
and again

thank you Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer for the title.

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koan

koan

note to self
“This that we speak of can never be found by seeking, yet only seekers find it.”—Al Bastami, born 804 CE

it haunted
lived inside my chest—
for two years I
leaned into it
reckoned with
the felt meaning
I knew it spoke truth
but couldn’t tell you why
a patient excavation,
I breathed it
pondered,
but not with thought
lobbed it into
the big field
light splintered
the kernel inside
it opened
tight bud to flower
released its perfume,
the aching aroma of love

2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—they may never turn into anything more or they might flower.

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the grace path

the grace path*

he suffers
I cannot turn away
but truly see him
just as he is
lying on the carpet
always aching
self-medicating
fragrance
tinging the air

he does not complain
tends to his pain
as best he can
smiles, shows me
puppy livecams
my heart yearns to
enfold him in
mother love
he’s almost forty-eight
it’s not my place anymore

instead
he offers me a toke
maybe I accept
soft music and waterfalls
play on YouTube
we talk quietly of the big field
and the atmosphere
of that conversation
soaks the room in, yes, love
it’s taken care of
we lean into the grace path

*thank you Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer for the title.

2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—they may never turn into anything more or they might flower.

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stubborn heart

I posted the same poem twice last night. Sorry!

stubborn heart

note to self

I suffer a stubborn heart
hard wood grows slowly
this hickory didn’t flower
until leaning into old
but it’s nice here
if I overlook aches and
pains, insomnia and such

and take a risk
give myself a chilla
—a challenge—
at this phase in life
just do it
meet that urge
no room for reticence
commit my stubborn heart
think of it as steadfast
abiding and resolute
nourish it with time
respect
courage
I hear my mother’s voice
use your words

2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—they may never turn into anything more or they might flower.

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dust and divinity

dust and divinity

note to self

I am both
dust and divinity
made of exploding stars
and light, bright
consciousness
paradox at best

I’m shaped to
live this earthly
mucky messy life—
given a circumstance
not of my choosing
taken who knows when

divinity births dust
forges a form
breathes life
planets and star clusters
amoebas and bacteria
centipedes and spiders
maples and passionflowers
hawks and songbirds
four-leggeds and us

we live in form awhile
taste blessings
bear grief
smell jasmine
and kiss soft lips
all holy
all part of that mire

remember, dear one—
muck nourishes lotuses

thank you to Rebecca Evert for two prompts that birthed this poem

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don’t go to battle with reality

don’t go to battle with reality

note to self

oh, sweetheart—just don’t!
don’t go to battle with
what is, a war
you cannot win
whatever has ensued
is already here
resistance won’t make
it go away

you can choose your
response—be kind?
helpful? generous, even?

when you’re overwhelmed
watch your buddy
the red squirrel sprint
along the fence
outside your office
no cares,
a speedy-rodent agenda
you’re not privileged to know

smile
breathe
remember
start again

2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
disclaimer: I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—they may never turn into anything more or they might flower.

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Filed under Awakening, Daily reminders, feelings, Kashmiri Shaivism, memoir, Musings, Non-duality, nonduality, Poetry, simple pleasures, spirituality, Surrender, Truth

memory’s wavering echo*

memory’s wavering echo*

note to self

now is the eternal when—
nod to memory’s wavering
echo echo echo
it merits quiet notice

what happened then
is not now
set it down with care
here is what is happening

rejoin the present
(you cannot leave it anyway)
memories occur now
back then doesn’t exist
not any more

oh yes, that happened
and cannot be denied
it flavored who you are
the backstory to now

stand tall
in this moment
rise up open wide
trust if you can
most of all—love

*phrase from Jon Jackson’s second presentation, from Rilke’s 3rd Letter To A Young Poet (Stephen Mitchell’s translation)

2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
disclaimer: I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—they may never turn into anything more or they might flower.

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wonder

wonder

note to self

wonder thrives here
its comfortable home
inward, noticing
the movement
of consciousness

wonder in the midst of
the ten thousand things
is tougher these days
if I pay close attention,
even there I find
small blazes of kindness

fan those! bring
forbearance, goodwill
courtesy, too
shimmer with love
everyone suffers

then dive back inside
rest in the big field
attend fear, the feeling itself
it actually won’t eat you
can resistance soften?
who notices?
bring wonder to that

disclaimer: I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—they may never turn into anything more or they might flower.
I write “notes to self” to jolt myself awake. Simple reminders, again and again.

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Filed under Awakening, Daily reminders, feelings, Kashmiri Shaivism, Love, memoir, Musings, Non-duality, nonduality, Poetry, spirituality