A few months ago, well after winter made her entrance...
I rose early one morning and, after chanting and reading for awhile, I paused from my spiritual pursuits and simply turned my gaze and attention to what lay outside my window. My senses became captivated by the rising sun unfolding its glorious garments of light across the treetops of oaks, maples and pines that lined the horizon before me.
It was then that I began to write whatever came to mind, purging my consciousness of stray thoughts that had been curled up tight in its corners, dark and hidden.
I scribbled six pages of what most would probably consider contradictory nonsense. Philosophical and spiritual ramblings, one thought leading to another, a string of jumbled up observations and insights. That was inconsequential to me, however, because when words and thoughts seem to flow out like that I feel so alive and it causes my consciousness to greet the day with a keen awareness of gratitude.
After dropping my daughter off at school I thought I'd try to take what I wrote and make a philosophical kind of poem with it which would attempt to reveal a snapshot of some of the ideas that took form during my moments of contemplation that morning. But it just didn't happen that way. Instead I wrote down what preceded that time altogether, before pen ever touched paper. The time when I finished reading and paused, simply to see the world at play, being a silent witness to its slowly coming to life on an early winter's morning.
Morning spills her secrets outside my window.
The narrow branches splitting off like fingers
from the thick outstretched arms of trees
are laced with the brilliant translucence
of newly birthed frost. They take in with glee
what her loose tongue has to share-
jewels of miraculous vibration.
And shine their remnants right back out at the world.
To the old man, shuffling with intention up the sidewalk,
bent over and stooped, bundled in warm wool,
breath preceding his figure in vaporous clouds.
To the woman driving by, too distracted to look out and wonder,
her windshield slowly melting away the beauty of the morn.
And below my steady hand, poised with anticipation,
Is a blank sheet of copy paper the children use to draw on,
Jessica Mokrzyckl: "I am a mother of two beautiful children and have been married for almost ten years now. I seek the truth into my own nature and that of God's and explore my experiences and reflections on a regular basis on my blog Ascending The Hills. I have found a lot of inspiration and direction from the Bhagavad Gita and other Vedic scriptures and have found that chanting has been an invaluable spiritual practice that I engage in daily."You may contact me via my facebook page here.
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