WP October 24th, 2020: Fish Pose

(Matsyasana)

Your spine curves as you move through the water:
What does your skin sense of your surroundings?
What does it know of your own heartbeat and blood?
What does it know of the creatures passing nearby?

How close to the surface do you dare to swim?
How is your view of the beyond distorted by the surface?

How deep will you go?
Have you ever touched bottom?

Can you reach a shore in your lifetime?
Or do you circle the same smooth path, returning on the hour?
What do you remember?

What can eat you?

Are you alone? Alone in a crowd?
Are you pulled against the current by a love of something?

If you relax, where will the current take you?
What will be waiting for you?

Who?

WP October 18th, 2020: Awareness of the Body

Consider the generational knowlege
of the cells of your body.

When this impermanent constellation falls apart,
where will each bit of your mind find a new residence?

Consider your left palm:
What has it held, what has it lost?
Where will this wisdom create a new home?

Consider the curve of your right breast:
What sensations has it endured? What sensations has it relished?
What will these memories nourish now?

Consider the muscles that pull
from the base of your skull towards your shoulders:
What was the source of the unpleasant feelings
that drew you into such tight, unstable grasping –
and made you, in those moments,
inflexible?
What brought pleasure back to your body?

What part of your body will move into the shadows of the forest floor?
What wisdom will it share there – with whom,
and what good will come of it?


WP October 11, 2020: The Lotus

(padmasana)

Quick – What is the worst thing that has ever happened to you?

How did you skin smell after it happened?
What kind of scar did it leave in the terrain?
What grew in the spot where it touched down?

Quick – What is your dirtiest secret?

Where and when did you plant it?
How does it taste (be honest!) on your tongue?
Who have you shared it with?

Quick – What is the most difficult path you’ve traveled (thus far)?

Did mud suck at your feet? Did seaweed wrap your ankles?
Did darkness send you into corners?
Draw a map of your journey: use crayons.

Draw a map of your journey: use herbs & spices.

Draw a map of your journey: use creepers & blossoms.

WP October 4th, 2020: Non-possessiveness (aparigraha)

How do you take care
of what passes through your life?

And where to you keep your cages?
What are the bars made of?
And what is the shape of the key –
and where to you keep it?

Where is your hidden vault? And
who knows that you even have one?

What sounds come from your captives
in the early mornings? And in the nights,
when you lie down to sleep?

What do they cost you in maintenance: the cages,
the vault? The captives themselves?

Why are they necessary: the cages,
the vault? The captives themselves?

When were you last unable to let go?
What forced your hand open in the end – or
is your hand still clenched as a fist?

Did this last lost captive have a heartbeat of its own – or
was it as solid as a diamond? Elusive as a stream?

What color are your mourning weeds? Or
are you still tracking it through a forest?

WP September 27th, 2020: Refraining from Harsh Speech

What is the shape of your hurt
and the sound of the breath that moves through it?

Where in your body does it vibrate? Sing?
Pulse with its own heartbeat?

Is it restrained and leaked
with a weak, fricative braking – or
is there a silent, momentary collision of wills before the explosion?

How do you send your hurt into the world?
Do you pack it a lunch – a tidy sandwich
buttered on both sides and tucked into a brown bag
with a folded napkin – or do you send it off with a pledge,
slamming a shot glass on the counter?

Does it make a scene in the doorway of your throat?

How do you console the needful infant of your thoughts?