heart of sunlight

heart of sunlight
note to self

stand in the brilliance
allow it
drink it in—
now leap out of your mind
let it do what minds do—
rattle on

drop behind or prior
soak in toasty warmth
your animal self
craves this—
simply be

2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

soaked in awe

soaked in awe
note to self

look around right now
if you pause and notice
there’s a miracle nearby
the green-throated hummer
hovers, sipping nectar
a long, thirsty slurp—
clouds form and dissolve
—where do they go?
the doe and twin fawns
still sporting spots
bound over the fence then
stand, hooves raised, and stare—
closer in, you type words
they appear on the screen
a marvel of human ingenuity—
be soaked in awe

2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

polestar

polestar

note to self

since young, I’ve
heeded it, although I
didn’t know its name
nur—sacred light
it’s inside everything
shimmering radiant
not quite evident yet
wholly there and aware
a generous wealth
the wealth that matters

this manifest world—
a ripe Fuji, juicy and ecstatic
begging to be devoured
that’s fine—crunch it!
quench your hunger
a temporary satisfaction
recognize what it’s made of
remember your polestar
and above all
share the nourishing light

nur is Arabic for divine light. My first teacher, who died twenty years ago, always described it as unmanifest light.

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.

snow peas

snow peas

oh, ode to warm weather!
for a couple of weeks,
we’re awash in pea pods
their sweet, crisp selves
play hide and seek
amidst the vines
do I see one? is it there?
the appraisal:
big enough to pick?
or wait a day?
good grief, that one’s
forming actual peas—
grab it quick.
before they’re washed,
their hides are tacky
maybe insects resist
the sensation, an instinct
they’d be trapped on landing.
we prefer them lightly
steamed—the snow peas,
not the insects—
three minutes max
toss them on salad
or add a smidge of butter
savor as vegetable
late spring perfection

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.

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.

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.

I have a plan

planHow many times have we said, “I have a plan” over our lifetime?

When we approach life with a plan, there is always some part of us to improve, to correct, to change.

I remember that I always had an idea of what events, relationships, or even my hair styles would look like, but they never turned out the way the mind envisioned. I had self-improvement schemes, too. For example, if I were kind enough, other people would be kind in return. Not necessarily so…

I no longer live with a plan. However it is, is how it is. This makes this wild experience we call life much simpler and easier. Much less stress, resistance, and drama.

Not having a plan makes life interesting right now, because I’m taking a year-long real estate course where I’m required to make a business plan. Which, of course, I will–because I’ve committed to completing this course. I will put close attention to what they ask of us, and attend to the details. But do I “believe” in it? Do I really believe I have individual control over my life? No longer–because this is so obviously not “my” life. I’ve spent hundreds of hours noticing, and I cannot find a “doer.” And yet doing happens, and life continues to unfold. Occasionally events even turn out in a pleasing way. Just as often, they do not.

I soaked in the hot tub tonight. Abruptly, the body-mind stood, and stepping out of the tub, wrapped up in a towel. There was no plan–or even the premonition of a thought–of leaving the warmth of the tub at that moment. And yet it occurred. I slipped into bed, looking forward to deep rest before an apparently very busy day tomorrow. Forty-five minutes later, I found myself sliding my feet into slippers, wrapping up in a hoodie, and returning to the computer.

Do I have any sense of when writing will stop, and I’ll return to bed? No idea at all. Perhaps writing will go on all night. Perhaps, a couple of minutes from now, the body will put itself back in bed. Whichever occurs, or something else completely unforeseen–I’m sure to be surprised by whatever shows up. That’s part of the delight of living now–it’s all so surprising.

© Amrita Skye Blaine, 2013
image credit

desire

rocks like a waterfall smallerYesterday’s post didn’t satisfy me. I rewrote it, and it’s still kind of… unrewarding. Onward–now is now!

Desire is a harsh taskmistress– we both want and don’t want the object of our desire. For example, Breyer’s mint chocolate chip ice-cream tugs at me in the evening, but I don’t want to put on extra weight. I yearn to find a home in a community close by and move, but sigh deeply, pondering all of the heavy lifting involved. Easily, tens of additional examples are available.

That’s the mind’s game: desiring. Another name for it is seeking–seeking other than what is here, right now: warm cup of coffee, Phoebe-the-hummingbird sitting on her fresh clutch of eggs on the monitor to my right, the small, burbling fountain in the background. All perfect, when the mind rests in the present. If I rest here and notice the stream of desires that arise, I can also take note of what is aware of the desires.

That-which-is-aware has no preferences. Desires can roll on by like waves on the beach; they simply show up and fade away–if we don’t grab on to them. It has become rather playful to watch them come and go.

© Amrita Skye Blaine, 2013
photo credit: I took this photo in December, 2000, on the Oregon coast

not enough

its_not_enough_buttonMost people live in a world of “not enough.” Not enough love, not enough money, not enough of the right kind of food, not enough time.

How many thoughts do I have a day wanting to change something in my life?

Honestly? Quite a few.

But I believe them less and less–because this moment, this moment right now, is precious, just as it is.

© Amrita Skye Blaine, 2013
photo credit

breath

breathe out the worldA little experiment to play with:

Breathe in, first noticing what is known (the world), then the knower (awareness) and then knowing alone–no longer any division between the knower and the known.

Then with the light of knowing, breathe out the world.

I would love to attribute this because I heard it from someone, but the memory of who shared it has flown… deep thanks to that person.

© Amrita Skye Blaine, 2013
photo credit