Building perfect pyramids
As a collective
Sacred and divine,
And we the evolved
Now call ruins.
We have revolved,
Struggling to rebuild our own temple,
On our own
What was sacred and divine.
We’ve stared into each of our eyes so intently that we’ve seen God.
We do this for minutes and he doesn’t turn away.
I don’t turn away.
We just stare until our hairs rise and we giggle
Because I helped create him and he helped resurrect me.
When I hum and he hums we breathe in the same things and we mmmmmmmmmmmmm
Until we smile because it feels good to be one sound.
And when he’s tired he curls up like a little bean, legs and arms tucked right on my lap with his ear by my chest,
I wrap my arms around him until our heart beats the same again and we return home,
Both of us a whisper who haunts gods dreams and lure him to play king of the forest,
Until we open our eyes and forget
Morning light and sweet treats,
Expanding wings in clear dreams
Deep breath into floating feet,
Water flowing through my soul with ease.
Moving to my birds songs
Soul at ease
Flight in feet.
@balancedlifecenters Saturday gentle yoga at 9:00 am
@oliveyogalb Subbing Sunday 8:00 am yin yang yoga and 10:00 am prana flow
“Why you hurting mama?”
“I’m bleeding son.”
“Where’s the blood,”
“Where I’d pee.” I speak bluntly.
Boy eyes wide I explain.
“You know our chickens lay eggs each day?
Mama lays eggs each month, but it’s just a speck a dust.
It’s cuz I can make babies.
You were the size of a pea when I first saw you,”
Eyes even wider with amazement.
“That’s crazy! And baby brother was a pea too?”
“And I was once a pea too.”
We both smile probably pondering the same thing.
He tosses and turns.
“Go to bed son.”
He huffs and sighs.
“I am much like you little boo.”
“Uh huh” he says annoyed.
“Yeah I was afraid of the dark, monsters,
Ghosts, shadows, lights….
I used to bundle up inside my blanket where they couldn’t get me until my hands and feet got hot and convinced the monsters they were covered with invisible shields just like my head.”
Excited. “I count to 10 to jump on couches before they can get me.”
“I used to dream of flying and wake up the next day trying to fly.
I felt safe in my mamas bed too.
Mornings I pretended to be sick because I was tired from staying up all night thinking about traveling to other planets and wondered if there was someone exactly like me somewhere else.”
He hugs me tight.
We both smile excited to find someone like me
probably pondering the same thing.
Ripples rewinding into one defined point as Goddess conceived me into existence whispering my name,
“Hannah, Hannah, Hannah, Hannah…..”
I am born again and again and again from that dark open space where thoughts form words to be spoken into vibration then into being as she plucks a string again and again whispering my name as a song made of pure sound and the reverberations sliding through the tight particles of each invisible filter of worlds back into that single point of light at the center of my universe.
“Hannah, Hannah, Hannah, Hannah…”
I did not see, but hear myself born into being,
The sage priestess sweeping gold dust and broken glass from the remnants of a shattered hour glass onto a dustpan while guiding me to float in between the panes of universes to experience my creation.
And each time I hear my name called,
“Hannah, Hannah, Hannah, Hannah….”
“What do you mean?”
“Like move things with your mind.” He puts his hands by his temples and looks at me inquisitively. “Because my dad says if you start moving things with your mind, he wants to see it.”
I laugh, “why? Did you tell your dad that meditating will teach you to move things with your mind?” I’m having an aha moment because I wondered why Elijah is more open to meditating and chanting than asana.
“Yeah! And he says he wants to see it if you do. But can you? If you meditate a lot?”
“Well that is one belief and I think anything is possible.” And right at the moment, a huge container truck was slowly turning into a shopping plaza. Elijah was so occupied he didn’t see it and I raise both hands and say, “watch!” And he looks up at the road to see this huge container turning to block the road with the driver cab on the other side of the truck so it looked as if it was floating. His mouth drops and then laughs as the driver becomes visible.
“Ha. You didn’t do that. It’s a truck!” And he’s still laughing for being fooled for a moment.
“Yeah, but I wasn’t really trying to move the truck. I was trying to move you to laugh. We can move the heart, and we can move the energy. Are you feeling happier already?”
He laughs a different kind of laugh. “Yes.” He says smiling and content with that.
Instinctively we want to draw in and close up into a tight ball as if our body’s a fist to protect the softness within.
Yet if we open up and let the whole body soften so that whatever tramples upon us moves right over us and we become unbreakable rather than impenetrable.
Take a deep breath,
Relax and sink,
And experience the strength of softness
“Yes we can!”
It’s the first book my dad bought me. I remember staying home sick from school one day because I wanted to go to work with him. Back then my dad had like 5 jobs to support my family and one was cleaning homes. I begged and begged to wash the windows because the squeegee looked like fun. He let me do a window and I read “The Giving Tree” over and over again on a porch until I could read it so fast that I didn’t have to pause to turn the page.
“Mom. Can you read “The Giving Tree”
“Of course.” I respond with warmth because I love the book so much.” As I read, he finished the sentences because we read it over and over again. I have tears streaming down my face.
He says,”and the tree loved the boy,” in his loud, strong voice,”very much! Mom! Mom! You be the giving tree, and I’ll be the boy. You say, come, eat my apples!”
And we reenact each page and I’m laughing and crying,”hey, but don’t leave me and take all my apples and cut my trunk. How does the tree look?”
“The tree is happy, but but but she looks sad.” He says empathetically. “Mom, but I want to a boat! Can you give me a boat?”
“No, you say, ‘I don’t have a boat.”
“Ok,” I say in my high motherly giving tree voice, “but I don’t have a boat. You can cut down my trunk and make a boat. Then you can sail far far away from here. And you will be happy.”
He hugs me with that smile where his whole face smiles. And I cry.