Skip to main content

I AM A SINGING BOWL by Shannon Crossman

I gather for Satsang with a group of women on certain Thursday evenings...

(Satsang is a group of students who come to sit in the company of truth with a teacher.) Once a member brought her singing bowl from India. Woman-by-woman, she stretched us out on the sofa and placed the bowl on our hearts. When my turn came, the reverberations of sound transported me elsewhere. Away from the surface place where my body resides. Deep into the temple of Self where the Divine is found. This poem was born from that experience. Written upon my return home. Small words attempting to capture a vast experience.



I am a Singing Bowl

by Shannon Crossman

Like a
beautiful bowl,
I sing
with the slightest
provocation
from the Divine.
Ringing peals
off my skin
leaving me naked
and glorified
until I am
no thing
but sound.
Inside that
holy echoing the
Beloved and I
are one
magnficient,
infinite,
unraveling
dance.
Some notes
leave us full
rolling on the floor
round-bellied
with laughter.
Some notes
leave us empty
heart blown open
and aching
with surrender.
Yet we care not
for it is all
we can do
to catch the next wave
and ride.



Shannon Crossman learned the hard way that untapped creative energy casts a helluva shadow, so she crafts her sanity with her hands daily. Nothing excites (or frustrates) her more than a blank page, fresh ball of yarn, or pile of foodstuffs - all waiting to be transformed into bits of deliciousness. Words are, and have always been, her way home. She is a writer, artist, technical wizard, public speaker, witch, priestess, gluten free baker, time-bender, and COO who happens to possess a degree in Transpersonal & Somatic Psychology. She's a mama and grandma to a gaggle of wild girls who make her heart happy. Shannon still believes in magic, craves the ocean like a land-locked mermaid, and dreams of a life without shoes.


~If you are interested in seeing your poetry appear in this blog, or submitting a poem by a woman that has inspired you, please click here for submission guidelines. I greatly look forward to hearing from you!~ 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

IMAGINE A WOMAN by Patricia Lynn Reilly

  This poem invites you to look upon yourself with loving kindness… Gazing at your own true reflection, you will discover that everything you have longed for “out there” is already within you! I invite you to love your creativity fiercely. Faithfully plant seeds, allowing under-the-ground dormant seasons, nurturing your creative garden with love and gratitude. In the fullness of time, the green growing things thrust forth from the ground. It's a faithful, trustworthy process. AND it takes time and patience.  Blessed is the fruit of your creative womb! I invite you to trust your vision of the world and express it. With wonder and delight, paint a picture, create a dance, write a book, and make up a song. To give expression to your creative impulses is as natural as your breathing. Create in your own language, imagery, and movement. Follow no script. Do not be limited by the customary way things have been expressed. Your creative intuition is original. Ga...

IN THE STILLNESS OF THE NIGHT by Ginny Brannan

 Just take a moment to pause... When life becomes rote, and frustration grows from being immersed in the same routine—different day, sometimes we need to remind ourselves that peace is still there—within our grasp— if we just take a moment to pause and enjoy the stillness and beauty around us. In the Stillness of the Night  by Ginny Brannan Late winter’s eve and all is still the lawn lies bathed in silver light— gray shadows race across the yard and climb atop the windowsill to draw my gaze upon the sight. I stare out to the moonlit night, across the deck and wooded path fresh–painted by new fallen snow. The scene infuses with delight; this gift inside storm’s aftermath. Half–buried now, the old birdbath lies shadowed deep in indigo— it waits on promise of the spring when arctic chill has finally passed and snow gives way to new green grass. With gratitude, I hedge to go; tranquility allays my soul… I turn ...

STILL I RISE by Maya Angelou

Six years ago, I had the privilege of listening to Maya Angelou speak live on the value of poetry at the University of Florida. I share these reflections with you again today, in honor of her birthday.  I was relieved to get one of the last seats available for this rare event, having arrived at five for Maya Angelou ’s free speech at eight. The historically long line began with people settled into beach chairs in winter coats busying themselves on tablets, or eating sandwiches for dinner. As helicopters hovered above and newscasters below, I felt the excitement of realizing that thousands of people were gathering together to hear an eighty four year old black woman recite her poetry! Maya Angelou speaking at University of Florida on Feb. 27, 2013  When the curtain rose -after an overflow of hundreds were sent away- we lucky ones on the inside greeted Maya with a standing ovation, as she smiled sweetly, beginning her talk using metaphors from nature. Maya asked...