Her calm
was his desire,
because he knew
any resistance
would surely mean
death.

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Her calm
was his desire,
because he knew
any resistance
would surely mean
death.
How many times a day do you feel overwhelmed, frustrated, angry or confused?
After counting all of mine, would you mind if I borrow your fingers and toes?
In Peace Is Every Step, Thich Nhat Hanh suggests a breathing room. He writes, “we have a room for everything—eating, sleeping, watching TV—but we have no room for mindfulness. I recommend that we set up a small room in our homes and call it a “breathing room,” where we can be alone and practice just breathing and smiling, at least in difficult moments.”
If by chance you’re thinking, why didn’t I think of that, then join the club.
He goes on to describe this common space, the “breathing room,” as sort of a fortress of solitude where with respect to the inhabitant, no one else may enter or disturb their chosen silence.
It’s basically for that moment when a conversation turns into a discussion, which turns to a debate—with seemingly no agreeable outcome—which in turn forms into an argument, with no resolve.
So it’s reserved only for that peak moment of, “I need some space,” or “give me a moment to think.”
With so much information cycling in and out of your subconscious, be it social apps, advertisements, marketing, news, or work, where it can feel like our minds get lost in the shuffle, or rather programmed with ideas that aren’t solely our own, this often causes our discussions or thoughts to turn to anger and confusion, which in turn manifests itself in words of anger and confusion.
So instead of falling into a pit of verbal debate which at the start was never our intention to begin with, there in lies the breathing room.
It seems a bit strange at first but if you factor in the amount of screens we allow to jumble our thoughts on a daily basis, it really makes a lot more sense as to why it’s more than necessary in today’s day and age to have a space for mindfulness and calm reflection.
It’s a practice I continue to engage, like a well oiled machine, with proper maintenance and care, we can all find peace and understanding, and better ways to dealing with hard situations.
And I think that by allowing ourselves this space and time, we can find a better means of listening, speaking, and treating one another with the proper respect of another that we also deserve.
Breathe in. Breathe out. And by getting to the center of ourselves, we can then find better understanding of another.
Taylor calls for me from those stairs in Italy
I’m walking by a pay phone on the beach
Reminders from the East and a girl named Cicily
Talk me into circles out of reach
Send letters won’t you son to remind us what you’ve done
Don’t be a stranger call us once a week?
I buried what was left of my heartache in a trench
On that lonesome stretch of sand I was released
Now Bret he reads the lines in the background of my mind
There’s no one in this room to hear me sing
When journaling in thought feels like a raven’s claw
It’s Taylor who sits calmly next to me
The grass rests underneath her cheekbone by the sea
While chemicals channel flowing dreams
It’s 8am in August while I pour the gin and tonic
Listening to the ocean’s cresting wave
The cobblestone in Rome for which once walked me home
Now Cicily I hear her gently speak
There’s no such thing as time, if you believe that then that’s fine
But darling I’ve got no tears left to weep
I did my best to please the priest listening to me
Still Lucas rest assured me of my grief
I didn’t have to sail to France to find a girl to dance
I just went out every night for one last drink
So now as Taylor calls to me from those stairs in Italy
I pick her up once more from memory
I play my part as she sings me to sleep
I pick her up once more from memory
I play my part as she sings me to sleep
She breathes in deep
and exhales his dreams.
In the early evening calm
he falls back asleep.
And just as she wakes
in the mid-morning sun,
he brings to her coffee
just after his run.
I set my intention
crossed the bridge to Angel Valley
unknowing of what was to come
but fully away of what I was leaving behind
I stood grounded, cool and calm
released of all tension
as if a lifetime had come undone.
It’s there I let go
of all those old ways of being
shed that snake skin feeling
and came back from beyond the pine
into that crystalline light
of my own healing.
Calm is the passing storm
from shelter’s mouth I view
Winds that whip the wrestling sea
from shelter’s mouth anew
Are waves which roar like lion’s breath
from shelter’s mouth I coo
How calm it seems the passing storm
from shelter’s mouth I view—a dinghy
in the water struggling, it’s a sailor
so uncouth—a sailor I once knew.
I sit, and read:
—”Comparisons are odious.”—
sipping, my tea
with birds feeling studious.
It’s calm.
I am happy.
Counting my blessings,
one page at a time.
She was warm and aware
Her bright eyes full of care
By the moon she was fair
as light danced through her hair
Like a sound, Juliet
she spoke wise with regret
Where I found it quite strange
by the light steady rain
Where footprints should have been
she had gone with the wind
While I lay awoken
by the rays of her infinite light
I recall the calm
as I recall the storm.
Lead foot hesitation,
the slamming of doors.
Endangered are many
who’ve less stayed for more.
Excuses are fatal,
not ours anymore.
See I recall quiet
death and coffin smell,
his mustache, beard shaven
estranged from the crowd.
Was I the unwelcome?
The burden? Expelled?
His name once my keeper
I’ve written it well.
Yes I recall freedom
wished upon a star,
a second floor window
alone in the dark.
The price no one bargained
unimaginably hard,
his soul like a raven
still blackens my heart.
A kid and a coffin
for now I recall,
the parlor room floor
dead silence in awe.
While tears spill to carpet
and jittering jaw,
echoed through the parlor
with no sign of God.
I recall the calm
the storm never ends,
it grows like a Cancer
bad thoughts fill my head.
His final farewell
is my cross to bear,
how no son of mine
shall feel such fear.
Life.
A series of sparks,
on a windy,
windy,
day.