Tag Archives: memoir

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

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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sighing

sighing

note to self

I sigh a lot these days
in the brief moment I allow
to check world news
war
sigh
autocrats
sigh
climate
sigh
drought
sigh
politics
sigh
fire threat
sigh
mass shootings
sigh

sighing to release grief
grief so deep
it almost swamps me
yet lives
a lump deep in my gut
stay with it, girl
this is important
feel it
and sigh
sighing is a prayer

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, Love, memoir, Musings, Non-duality, nonduality, Poetry, spirituality, Surrender, Truth, writing

blue gel caps

blue gel caps
note to self

white hot
knifes through my lumbar
spools around a hip
plans must change

no long car rides
attention to
the subtlest move
and pain meds

yes, blue gel caps
are your friend
your mind is not
remember that

a worm hole
into suffering
oh no! what if?
never-ending?

start with breath
slow and even
move with care
pace yourself

familiar territory
you’ve been
through this
before

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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the great unconformity

(yes, it’s a scientific thing)

the great unconformity

a vast internal
abrupt uprising and shift
fourteen years ago
from the outside
all seemed the same
but beliefs fell away
gone not to return

what looked out of
these eyes was
wholly impersonal
and not in time
experience ended
fragrance remains

continually
reoriented
and reorienting
paradox
lived and breathed
wonder thrives

a time gap in
cliff formations
almost a billion years
missing
what happened back then?
are my continents merging?

2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine

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afraid to live, afraid to die

vole from William

Within the past couple of weeks, I’ve discovered that one of the major patterns I carry is being afraid both to live and to die.

This has been true my whole life, but I’ve never allowed that core fear to rise up into knowing. It is so much better to be aware of the pattern rather than keeping it shoved down inside, where it leaks out in peculiar and unhelpful ways–profound anxiety, for one. Now I see how that fear ruled many aspects of my life. Like the tiny mouse in the picture, I’ve hidden myself, metaphorically speaking, in the corner, thinking that I can’t be seen, and hence am safer.

It’s not that the fear has left, it hasn’t. Perhaps it never will; it doesn’t matter any more. Now I can befriend the fear–in this moment–welcome it in, and get to know it. There is no need to discover the story of why or when it first developed; nothing to unravel or solve.

Simply to meet it, and greet it, now.

© Amrita Skye Blaine, 2013
photo: taken by William Collinge, who, after capturing the mouse in his office, lovingly deposited the small creature outside.

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starting from scratch

original fireplace croppedI’ve never designed a fireplace environment before. The current stone surround in our new-to-us home is not pleasing to either my husband or me. It’s dirty, but cleaning won’t be enough. It’s very dimensional, rough stone, and overpowers the wall. Next week, all but the fireplace itself will be torn out. Even the brass front is going.

But what do I like? What does B appreciate? How do we blend that? The good news is that we have twenty-four solid years making home decisions together. We’ve lived in seven different houses during this time. This will be our eighth–but the first where the fireplace setting was so displeasing that we felt the need to do more than simply paint. There are so many materials available–way too many, really, so it was hard to know where to start.

We found a website with tens of thousands of home ideas: http://www.houzz.com. We paged through hundreds of photos. It was a 21st century event: we sat next to each other in our comfortable living room recliners–each perusing the same website–and passed our iPads back and forth, responding to other people’s fireplace solutions–delightful fun, with quite a bit of chuckling involved. It’s fascinating to watch the sorting process. This is a task where the mind is very helpful–minds are so good at responding to this and that–judging, rejecting, or being drawn toward. I love inviting the mind into projects where its strengths are both useful and required. Over a couple of hours, we developed a feel for what we like in common in the realm of fireplace settings.

We have a precious friend–he married us–who works with wood with an elegant Buddhist eye. We called and left a message today, because it dawned on me that he might provide amazing mantlepiece ideas. I hope we can invite him to make one.

We also successfully replaced a toilet today! The renovation process has begun, one delicious moment at a time.

© Amrita Skye Blaine, 2013
The photo is of our current, soon-to-be-removed fireplace surround.

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unspeakable vacancy

Messier 77This unspeakable vacancy that we are, that holds all of manifestation–black holes, shooting stars, exploding suns, and the occasional planet with conditions that meet life as we know it–how could that possibly be seen as dull, boring, or flat?

In the most benign moments, while I’m sitting at the keyboard watching words form on the screen, millions of occurences unfold. Blood creates new cells, other formations eat what has died and needs recycling, nerves are firing, not to mention the words pouring out on the screen. How amazing is that! Words, little discrete shapes lumped together that form temporary meaning–a stunning occurence. One vast unspeakable, connected miracle forming out of no thing.

I’ve been watching a humming bird nest blog; this is the second clutch I’ve seen hatch and develop. The babes, in the last five days, have turned into little bright, aware winged things, practicing for taking flight by hanging on to the edge of the nest with one foot and flapping like mad. One will even stand on the other for purchase. Somehow they manage not to fall out of the tiny nest, about the size of two and a half joints on a man’s finger. Astounding! The cam is now on what is called “fledge watch.” Shelly, the elder fledgling by three days, could go at any time.

Glance around! This unspeakable vacancy–surely, not dull, boring or flat…

© Amrita Skye Blaine, 2013
photo credit: NASA archives
Phoebe’s cam

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to be a clearing

love-at-first-sight11Today I got to do what in the past I would have called “holding the energy” or “holding the space.” Now I think of it more as having the opportunity to be a clearing– open, loving, and empty.

For a few days, my son, R, has been very anxious as he awaited an experimental treatment for stroke. Somehow the every-moment-unknown seemed even more intensely unknown today–particularly after watching him sign release forms that suggest the possibility of death in sixteen different ways. His hand shook so badly as he signed, and yet he was fully ready to move forward with the treatment. There was no room for mama-anxiety this morning. I noticed some in private, of course. Mothers are deeply conditioned for concern.

The role my husband and I played once we met up with our son this morning was to be the calm, open presence for whatever might unfold. I made sure R had the opportunity to tell the doctor what his wishes were if the treatment went terribly wrong–since he had not thought of filling out advanced directives–and what he said was, “no resuscitation measures of any kind.” The doctor seemed shocked; I was not. My son has told me more than once that he doesn’t care to grow old–not with his body–that quality of life is everything. He’d rather have three fine months than fifteen miserable years.

The treatment proceeded, and then we drove the seven hours home. There may be subtle change already. During the next three months more changes may occur.

To be a clearing: to be open, transparent, lucid, and awake to/with/as whatever arises.

© Amrita Skye Blaine, 2013
photo credit (had to use this image again!)

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we do not multitask

multitasking womanHumans believe that they multitask–sometimes we take great pride in this, other times we feel depression and overwhelm, and just want to slink back to bed.

But the truth is–and there is science to back up our direct experience–we only attend to one detail at a time. We only have one thought or one feeling at a time. Life occurs one eternal moment at a time. There is no such thing as multitasking–other than the belief in it and the story we tell ourselves about it.

The past week, there hasn’t been much downtime. I’ve been with people almost every moment, and time alone has been rarely available. (Except the forty-five minutes when I write. Even my talkative son honors writing time.) One event, the following activity, the next meeting, boom-boom-boom–all lined up like the tennis balls popping endlessly out of the machine to practice forehand and backhand. Yet when I notice, there are timeless moments between events, activities, and meetings.

In fact, the timeless is everpresent to sip when we remember to do so.

© Amrita Skye Blaine, 2013
photo credit

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