Zen Mamas

The world is filled with Zen masters who live outside monastery walls.

We color mandalas with sidewalk chalk.

We ring meditation bells of rainbow-colored xylophones.

Our mantras are the stories we read with ego-melting repetition.

We hold asanas with babies in and on our bodies, going about our day as if our muscles are not on fire, not letting on how our bones beg for rest.

After enlightenment, we cook dinner and fold the laundry.

We pull energy from the depths of our fatigue.

Our life is one continuous act of service.

We practice breath work by blowing bubbles, exhaling with artful control to get the most out of each dip of the wand.

Our ascetic practices include eating the food scraps offered by our toddlers and what our babies throw on the ground, making meals out of bread crusts and apple peels.

We nourish young lives with our bodies.

With discernment, we are creators, preservers, and destroyers.

Embodying eternal love, we are One with the universal life force.

Though we may not wear saffron robes or have the luxury of sitting in quiet contemplation, we are here, humbly filling the world with Zen Master Mamas.

Bouncy Ball

Resilient sphere of color

I throw you down but you only bounce back higher

Dancing down the stream

You get caught on rocks and fallen leaves

I free you and follow you down the babbling brook

Your journey is again halted by forest debris

I dislodge you with a stick and you bound onward

Carried effortlessly by the water

I was told that all rivers flow to the ocean

I am determined to travel there with you, to see this through

Then I learn that water sometimes moves underground

Branch still in hand, we are both stuck on land

I didn’t account for this

Years later, I am an adult in a high-pressure profession

Just now pausing after years of running

As if I’ve been chasing a ball down a stream

Bouncing from one goal to the next

I am bewildered by the restless movement which only distanced me from my heart’s desires

In exchange for passing tests, I received more tests

No one ever asked me if I want to be tested

I value serenity and peace, meditation in nature

I was already where I wanted to be

When I was a girl with a rubber ball

Bring me back to that forest stream

I will stand in it

Let the cool water wash over my feet

Bouncy ball by my side

In stillness and simple satisfaction

We will stay

Pockets of Bliss

Pockets of Bliss

Hard-scrabble
Uphill battle
Stoically strong
All my life long

That was my marching song

Yet if I let myself unwind a bit
I find myself basking in pockets of bliss
Soaking in satisfaction, abundance, gratitude
It feels like the ultimate kiss
As I both receive and radiate
The generous glow of the sun

My mind usually tells myself that I don’t have time
For such indulgent, frivolous nonsense
That I’ve got to push push push
And forever rush rush rush

I fooled myself into believing
That I didn’t deserve the luxury of deep breathing
That rest and relaxation were only for the privileged rich
Such was my justification for prioritizing everything else                                                       Before my own needs

For too long I wrongly bought into the ideology
That my life was not to be enjoyed
That I should run hungry all my days
As if pursued by a ravenous wolf in all kinds of ways

But today I re-realized that I am the wolf
And also the prey
Only I have the power to say,
‘Enough of being tough.
I am ready for ease!’

If only in pockets to start
Because old habits are hard to break,
Just ask my heart

So it is with patience and persistence,
Guided by gentle wisdom
That I fill my pockets to overflowing
With bliss bliss bliss