Garden in the Machine
The collection of writing that follows comes from a course called Mindfulness in Writing. It helps to know the background of the course to fully appreciate the writing.
The course grew out of certain conditions. The first was my course Systemic Analysis for Everyday Life. Systemic Analysis gives students lenses to look deeply at society, to see how it was built, to see the pressures it exerts on them, to see the soul it saps.
The second condition was a student, aptly named Grace, who was so struck by the teachings of Systemic Analysis that she asked if I would teach a follow-up course. That request stayed with me. I wondered what would be best to teach students who lived through so much, who pivoted so many times, who were disillusioned with the old and new “normal” and the state it left them and their planet in.
A third condition was the death of Thich Nhat Hanh. When Thay (as his students affectionately call him) died, I was reminded of the great gift he gave me. His practice of mindfulness held me together through hard times: my father dying, my daughter being born into a world on fire, my wife getting cancer. Mindfulness showed me I have everything I need to live fully, even in the seemingly hopeless contexts. This, I realized, was the gift to give students.
So, I wrote up this course description and sent it to them:
Mindfulness, according to Thich Nhat Hanh, is the “energy of being aware and awake to the present moment. It is the practice of touching life deeply in every moment of daily life.” In this course, we will develop a mindfulness practice that brings this energy into our busy lives. To do so, we will come back to our breath. We’ll practice mindful walking, sitting, eating. We’ll reconnect with nature and its rhythms. Writing will allow us to channel what emerges as we reawaken to ourselves and the world. Within our busy schedules, we’ll find the contemplative space necessary to write words that need to be written, for us and for others.
Twenty students answered the call. We came together each week to practice. It was awkward at first. Awkward because academic settings prioritize theoretical knowledge that flows, with lightning speed, in a singular direction from teacher to student to test. In this setting, we are trained to ignore, or look down upon, older modes of learning that are embodied, that slow the clock, that give practitioners tools to be free and to act for freedom.
Over time our practice became natural. There was a familiarity to sitting in a circle under the sun, to breathing, walking, eating together. We were rediscovering some older and better way of living.
As we practiced, it felt as if we were tending a garden. We reconnected with the earth and with our roots. We watered good seeds we had forgotten. We became aware of what had grown out of the bad seeds: anxiety, competitiveness, self-loathing. The practice helped us prune that tangled mess and forgive those who cultivated it in us. What fell away returned to the soil where new habits, deeper ways of seeing and more peaceful ways of being, began to flower.
Writing became a way of showing the flowers of our practice. Again, we took inspiration from Thay who infused his calligraphy with his presence and with the essence of the present moment. To write Home, for instance, he first had to come home to himself. He often used the mantra: Breathing in, I have arrived. Breathing out, I am home. Only when he truly arrived, would he move his brush.
We used similar mantras to come home. Breathing in, we pulled our minds through the clouds of past and future thoughts. Breathing out, we arrived in the here and now. There we found the stillness needed to look at the world. It was the same troubled world, only more textured, more luminous, more intertwined and interpenetrated with light. That slight difference made all the difference. Only when we truly arrived, would we move our pens.
These ten weeks have taught me, a writing teacher, an important lesson: Writing is sacred when written mindfully. Rather than a hollow vehicle, quickly typed and quickly consumed, the mindful word becomes a clear bridge that connects writer, world, and reader. We hope you can follow that bridge to our garden.
Flowers
of
Mindfulness
By
Leila Andrade, AJ Arandia, Bahman Ardakani,
Isabel Cerna, Priscilla Cerrillo, Brendan Cocos, Jeff Cone,
Marlen Diaz, Diana Flores-Aleman, Sana Haddadi, Samantha Gibson,
Deniz Kivrak, Kendra Lyman, Katelyn McConnaughey, Emily Miller, Alex Muñiz,
Siena Rivera, Keith Rockwell, Elias Roman, Jack Rosetti, Fahd Sheikh,
Grace Turner, and Niall Twohig
Part I.
In a Circle
Your bags scattered in a circle—
You’ve gone off to record the world.
***
In ten minutes, you
will return to the circle—
I can’t wait to hear
what the still small
voice has said.
***
Everyone chose a spot randomly and spread apart.
I glanced at each of my peers as they wrote.
I wondered if I had similar thoughts as them.
***
We part ways to find a spot to jot down our thoughts. I let the wind play with my hair as I take deep breaths, trying to feel a connection with Mother Nature. I close my eyes and wonder what other people are feeling at this moment. For me this is a break from constant worrying, stressing and living in the future. I am mindful of this very moment.
***
The wind blowing through the leaves on a tree,
The bees gently bouncing between flowers in the grass,
The warmth of the sun on my back.
A bell rings far away, yet close enough to hear through the chatter.
I am home even when I am not.
***
Sitting under this leafless tree
Focusing on the present
How can I focus
When the sun burns my skin?
***
At most times, I feel aloof as I isolate without consciousness
But once I go outside and breathe into my sight and other senses I realize everything around me is... alive
***
The mantras for breathing
are like the daisy-chain
threaded together
by Kendra’s hand.
***
Everything has so much purpose, it is so interdependent but doesn’t know. Each student walking by the plaza, big bright dreams in their heads. Every leaf on these eucalyptus trees giving life to the tree, to us.
But I wonder if they ever get lonely. If they ever feel the way I do, altogether but so alone. Everyone walking with so much purpose. Somewhere to be, something to do. Even the wind, so merciless and unrelenting, like it is on some sort of mission. What are they all doing? What are they all working towards?
And then it stops, the wind stands still, the people are in their classes, and the leaves stop falling. What will they do now? It is easy to view yourself as “1,” but it is very difficult to view yourself as “all.” How different am I from that leaf, or the wind, or the ant scurrying around to find food, or the student on her way to class? To the universe, what am I if not all of these things? I find solace in this, and suddenly I am no longer alone.
***
The sound of the bell
trails off into the hum
of the AC Unit—
Both can bring me back
to myself.
***
Jason, the coffee cart owner,
was so happy we meditated with his tea.
He now gives me free coffee.
I feel awkward every time—
A tip for his niece’s law school fund
is surely in order.
***
The sun on my back
shadows on the wall
a plane overhead
leaves underfoot—
Where am “I” in all of this?
***
Fresh buildings
fresh landscape
empty expansion
for what
Students walking
interested in learning
reduced to dollar $igns
Jets overhead
contemplating peace
reminded of war
Afraid of fear
I build a house
its walls are darkness
I stay in the middle
I approach the walls
they don’t scare me anymore
I tear them down
I emerge into the endless light of the world
***
As I glance and stare at people looking at me as I sit on the corner
It feels like I’m sort of a monster
But as I realize they’re just like me
Everything is just—be
***
People stare as they
walk by.
I stare back.
They look away with shame.
Feels weird being perceived,
doesn’t it?
***
Home
It is the present moment
It is in you, and all around you
In the sound of the planes above in the sky
and in the voices of the people walking around you
it is in the space all around connecting us all
***
Who made the signs?
Who forged the steel?
Who cut the wood?
Who wired the buildings?
Who mixed concrete?
Who measured?
Who planned?
Who are they?
Who were their parents?
Who were their parents’ parents?
I thank them all.
***
Hard hat
high vis
company truck
construction goes on
***
To write in green
Is a great gift.
To sit on green
an even greater one.
***
We called you
Blood Insect
when we were kids.
We’d flatten you then,
a splotch of red on the page.
You crawl, now,
across this page
as I write these words
I’ll do my best
To avoid turning
you to blood.
A quick breath
blows you back
to the grass.
***
Blue bird
I have been feeling rather impermanent,
But you fly so freely.
Do you wonder about me
as I wonder about thee?
Under the sun I feel life
Air
We share the same air
You are alive
I am alive
Yet you dart for darkness
And I remain here
Under the sun
Earth enveloping me
I feel alive
***
Fahd across the way—
He’s got great posture
And even greater spirit.
***
Tall concrete and cold glass,
Short grass and birdsong,
Green and grey play together.
***
I hear the birds singing – as I would like to call it.
My focus is quickly shifted to the trees surrounding us and the sound it makes swaying. I become aware of the loud air conditioning next to the building.
***
The machine hums in the air
The bird chirps on the ground;
I bring myself back to my breathing.
***
The lone crow flying knows all sanghas.
***
In a sea of grey,
A lone tree stands
blooming red.
***
The wind howls
but not today.
***
When the sounds fade away,
the birdsong stays.
***
Yesterday’s leaves are trampled over.
Tomorrow’s leaves dance on the branch.
Only the now remains.
***
Narrow lines
Sharp edges
blending
Nature’s shadow.
***
The wind blows
Or is that the AC?
The blend of machine and nature
Tricks me.
***
In a world full of shapes—we never appreciate the smoothness
of a perfectly made circular shape
or the jaggedness of pebbles to create a section of the concrete
But it was just made to create beauty out of dimension and patterns
***
I open my eyes to a gift
the wind has brought me.
With my breath,
I return home.
***
The hum of the AC is loud,
best to speak up
so we can hear your soul.
***
My friend Jeff
under the trees
and in the shade—
I couldn’t find a happier
image to focus on.
***
“Just what I needed” the Cars.
The Crow. The Bear. And me.
The Bee. The finch.
The clover.
***
Pieces of us. Scattered.
Thunder. Calm.
“Always something there to remind me,” Naked Eyes.
***
Da, you always loved the sparrow.
I’m watching one hop across the grass—
I see him. I love him for you.
***
The sparrows don’t know why you left your things.
***
I chirp
prmmh prmmh prmmh
through puckered lips
and the sparrow
returns my call
***
Even the plastic cup
can be beautiful
when it lies there,
left behind by Bahman.
It reclines lazily
In the grass, getting some sun.
***
Leaning against a hard rock
Sitting on the cold ground
Listening to soft rock
Makes me feel warm and grounded
***
Elias, I see you
across the way
pensive, fully loaded
With soulful ideas
***
Warren Bear
Connected and pieced together
Perceived by me as warmth and simplicity
What does it mean to you?
***
The Bear sits tall
High and proud
But beneath the bear lies no grass
As if to say, “I’ve been here for a long time.”
And so I think to myself, “It must carry an important meaning.”
I look and I notice the cracks throughout the bear
Then I realize that the bear is composed of many parts
Individual, unique parts
I wonder: “What are the pieces that make us us?”
***
The leaves around the Bear
dance softly on the wind.
***
Some of you think you arrived late to class.
We always arrive at the right time—
The here, the now.
***
The helicopter whirls
overhead, who are you
who flies so high above?
I wish you a safe landing
every time you fly.
***
Able to clear out my feelings, fears, and worries and just listen to my breathing, thoughts of looking strange or odd popped into my head. But I placed them on a leaf and let them slowly float down a river.
Part II.
Stillness
In the middle of a storming sea, the rock remains still.
***
As I lay still with my eyes closed, starting with a focus on the weight of my body on the bed, moving to a focus of the sounds around me, I notice the sounds of an airplane passing by, the little robot vacuum in my house, a neighbor with a chainsaw, and my other neighbor coughing, I feel a sense of ease wash over me, and I get a glimpse of stillness. A stillness that I have long been searching for.
***
Strawberries—I watched you grow every day. I looked forward to coming out back every morning to see how much you grew. I see the work that was put into your growth. The sun, the water, and the soil is all what goes into making you grow.
***
Every morning I start my day with a cup of coffee. The smell of the coffee pouring into my cup brings me a sense of joy. I feel at ease when I take my first sip. As I see my cup get lower and lower I feel like my day can begin. The coffee brings me back to life.
***
At the cafe,
A hot cup of coffee
blue collar workers
getting caffeine—
We’ve all got work to do.
***
Mindfully walking to my car
I start to notice small details
The sun laying its sunbeams across the pavement
The gust of wind swaying the leaves back and forth
The slow movement of the clouds in the clear sky
What a beautiful sight to see
***
Overcast clouds cover me
The hot sun warms the grass under me
It smells like summer to me
I sit alone with my books and music case.
The Sun God statue seems bigger today
Couples and trios surround me.
Today I prefer Steinbeck & Miguel Ruiz.
Healing.
***
The airport
Flooded with sounds and people
Seems to be the worst place for an introvert
But I stand here excited
My brother is finally here
I wonder what changed
His hair? fashion sense?
Perhaps he now has a Tennessee accent
We’ll see
***
Everything around me seems to move slowly as my mind begins to be still. The people, quick in their pace, rush past me. It is almost as if I can feel their panic, their whirlwind of thought. I notice the feelings, but I am at peace in my mind.
***
I look up and see only a few flowers on the tree, and it brings me a sense of sadness because, like this tree, only so many people fully bloom. Many of us are lost in our minds. Most of us are trying to get to point A to point B, thinking about the unknowns of the future or the pains in the past. Only so many enjoy the gifts of the present.
Part III.
Back to the Marketplace
Oh where does time go?
To what destination shall we go?
Are we lost?
Is there a map?
How do we know we have reached the finish line?
How do we know?
***
So many people on their phones.
Top ten university but still no caution.
***
Everyone is rushing to get food or leave to get to their classes on time. No one truly appreciates the value of present. At least not in Price Center.
***
How can one spend more than an hour here?
***
Zooming on scooters,
Just like fast food
Faster, faster, faster
Shoving food down our throats
Time is ticking
Ipad, laptop earbuds and phone
All the necessary essentials to survive
Multitasking 5 things all at once
Without knowing/being aware of what's going on
Where to?
What's next?
Who’s next?
***
What was the marketplace like
before devices?
So many of us here but not here.
What virtual worlds
are you exploring
as this, the present moment,
passes you by?
But I’m on a screen too
My screen is this paper,
Better to look up
Better to take this moment in.
***
Need this alarm to die down. Can barely focus on my thoughts.
No one else is saying anything.
Do they hear what I hear?
Do they care about the noise?
***
There’s an alarm going off. The tsunami kind of sound that ought to make one turn their head. No one has stopped typing or walking or even turned around to find out what it is about. On this journey of being mindful, I have realized just how numb we are to things. Especially here, and especially now. It is so easy to go through the day with so much focus that you do not actually notice anything at all. Each person here has their own pseudo-reality that is at the forefront of their focus. But sitting here, in the middle of the eye of the storm, I see very clearly. The boy who looks lost, the one who looks like they’re on the verge of tears, the line cook at the Greek stand who looks like they’ve had enough. If we were always this present and aware of others, what about our world would change?
***
There is so much anxiety.
A guy paces back and forth while checking his phone.
The sound of clanking jars disrupts the unintelligible sound of so many conversations.
The floors feel thin as if I can feel every step the people walking around me take.
The guy picked up his stuff but continues pacing.
So many people rushing out of Sunshine Market.
There is so much talking and beeping.
I think if I tried hard enough I could focus in on a conversation.
It is so interesting how you can tell when an individual is in a brand new place for the first time, just by their body language.
***
I hear the words “order 432”
Then laughter as
one student asks, “Do you know what he said?!”
I never get the gossip
***
The Price Center
appeals to the student body
Artspace, comunidad, game room, commuter lounge
The winner of them all; fast food
I don't blame the students
When I look down on them from the second story, I see hard working determined individuals, seeking refuge from the grind in each french fry
In the middle of it all our own Zen master
The Thich Nhat Hanh in my own life, my teacher
Watching him do the same thing I am trying to do, I find a sense of calmness and triumph in my own ramblings
I do not like the Price Center, and that typically sours my mood each time I enter it But not today
Today I am simply aware of it.
***
I’ve been here for twelve years
And this is the first moment
I’ve stopped time and taken it all in—
fitting this happens under the hands of the clock.
***
I’m sitting under the stairs in price center. I chose this spot to sit and watch people. This is the first time I’m sitting at this place with no electronic devices but a pen and a paper. This is my first time looking around and noticing my surroundings.
***
Among all the conversations, beeping, and clanking,
There you hang.
I swear the footsteps are so heavy in this place it shakes everything, yet you are still.
Bright colors contrast against the dark metals that cover this place.
Why have I never noticed you before?
***
There are some decorations hanging from the ceiling that I never noticed before. We as students are often too busy trying to buy food or work with out devices that we forget to sit down and enjoy living in the present. For this reason price center has always felt like an airport to me.
***
Arranged flowers hang from the ceiling
One with a butterfly at the bottom
On the 2nd floor lies a mural of progressive leaders
Malcolm X sits at the corner
High-school students walk by
Some with a bright smile, others with curiosity
My classmates sit scattered across the 1st floor Pondering, writing
I wonder if they see what I see
***
I pass through here every day to go to class
And yet I never noticed the news ticker.
What else am I missing?
***
“Laguna shooting highlights increasing tension
Between Taiwanese and Chinese…”
This scrolls across the news ticker—
A newsbyte for me, but
suffering for those poor families.
I hold the doctor who sacrificed himself in my heart.
His act was an act of Love.
May his family receive love and healing.
***
Behind the scenes at Burger King
the young women do their routines:
packing burgers, pumping sauce, pulling tickets.
Their hands work so fast.
When do they have the time to slow down?
***
Looking down from the second floor
Like a king in the castle.
King of my domain
***
Waiting in line is always an annoyance.
I just want to be called.
I just want to be done.
I need to work on turning the wait
into a meditation.
***
Waiting in line without purpose
Or goal, I look over heads and I’m reminded of mountain peaks.
I’ve never enjoyed this vista
till now
***
I almost didn’t talk when I got to the register.
“Maintain the vow of silence” was in the back of my mind
But I remembered:
To be present is to be present for others.
I spoke and asked the cashier
how are you? Just like Da used to ask.
She wore a facemask, but her eyes smiled.
I noticed the mask had writing:
“Treat others with kindness.”
I almost missed that in my mindlessness.
***
Just being here makes me want a drink or snack.
Must resist my impulses. Be mindful of where
My mind wants to go. My mind thanks me.
As does my wallet.
***
Just me, my shopping cart, and dozens of avocados that I had the blessing of picking my favorite one from. I could spend hours picking the right avocado, but after a couple months of routinely practicing mindfulness, I found myself picking the first avocado that I touched.
***
Oh banana—
I savor you. I chew each bite
thinking of the trees, the climate,
the workers that brought you to me,
that fed me. You’re sitting on the table now.
I’ve left a few more bites. I’ll savor
each as the Body of Christ.
Part IV.
Apart, a Part
Seeing my peers reminded me of how important community is
I may not know them deeply, but I know that I can share the same pain and feelings with them. We mourn over the people we lose.
***
It was hard to see you pack all of your bags. Watching you pack all of the things that make you feel at home. It was hard waiting for you to be picked up to go. Sitting in the garage with all of your belongings. The longest fifteen minutes of my life. Many tears were shed. Our last hug before you left. A very present and painful moment.
***
I breathed in the sadness you caused in me.
I breathed out the understanding that you must have been hurting too.
***
You used to be my favorite person, any time you were home I just had to be near you. But our paths have diverged. I can no longer see you the same way my 12-year-old eyes had.
***
With my eyes closed I tried to assemble a moment I thought was my saddest.
Sitting in the silence the fragments pieced together:
Burly arms wrapped around a small, shaking body.
I will never tell you this, but I miss you.
***
Sometimes I see fragments of you in my brother.
To know you did not break him in the ways you did me, I smile.
I am happy your good still lives.
***
I feel like death has never upset me the way it should have. There is something about the execution of the inevitable that brings me closure, if not peace. I think the only time I have really mourned was for V, and even that was on someone else’s behalf. For V’s children: H and her sisters. Their pain really broke me. But then I remember the essence that she left behind. Every sunset that we watched together, and knew that the sun was shining on H in a way that only she could understand. I wish V was still here to revel in that sunshine herself. To walk with her kids on those beaches, hug them, and tell them that everything is going to be okay. I wonder sometimes if she felt the wind on her face or the soil on her feet one more time in just the right way if she would have changed her mind. I wish she could kiss her babies one last time. But her essence still lives on. The elements came together for one moment in time, and it was a painful one at that but had so much impact I still feel her every day, and I know her kids do too. I have never felt that kind of pain and connection myself. Everyone that I know that deeply that has passed was supposed to. Cancer, drugs, addiction. But I do feel the essence of those I love around me and know their presence will live on even when they do not, and I look forward to reveling in those moments as I have with V.
***
Dear Aislynn,
You ask about your Grand Da
and your Lola Linda.
Sometimes we say they are in heaven,
or in the heart.
I hope you see, too, that they
(and all your loved ones)
are still here in the world.
I hear my Da—your grand Da—
in the birdsong.
Listen carefully.
And you’ll meet him.
***
Tia Mona,
I never got to say goodbye
Things I never got to fully process
But as time passed,
The memories
The Teachings
And all the love you gave
Grew even more within my heart
Leaving a connection that never dies
***
Dear Grandpa,
In thinking of you, I know you picked UCSD for me. One of the last trips we took together was to La Jolla.
We went to walk on the beach and watch the seals and then went on to get tacos.
I wish you were physically here so that I could show you this campus, show you that I got into college. We could have walked around glider port or Torrey Pines, and I could have tried my best to answer all of your questions.
I forgot how much I missed you. I know you would have come down to visit me with Grandma and would have been so impressed by everything I am doing, and so happy I am going to school here.
You would remind me to appreciate my walks to class and to practice my Spanish. Sometimes when I visit Grandma, it feels like you are still there in the house. But I know you are with me here too. I love you.
***
Here I am sitting in my room
My roommates in the kitchen
talking with friends
I hear one mention their grandpa
Which triggers an old memory in my head:
He calls me towards his canteen
“Help me sell this” he says with a smile
And so I did
Or at least as best as little me could
He then told me to get any snack I want
Best day ever
***
Today, I practiced walking with my grandma. She is physically and mentally absent from my life now, and it hurts. This practice allows me to feel her with me. Smell her perfume. Hear her laugh and her song as she gently sings. My grandma loves flowers, so I walked through the garden at home and I can see her in the beautiful birds and in the blossoms that grow. She has taught me so much. She loves me so much, even if she doesn’t know who I am. I know who she is and she is amazing.
***
My dad who is in the hospital;
couldn’t walk, couldn’t talk, like in a comatose
Wishes he could
But for now
I dedicate this journey to him
I don’t take my sense for granted
30 Minutes Pass
I come back with the most incredible feeling;
the wonders of human activity
like the couple holding hands
I wonder what it’s like to keep my dad’s hand as I ponder behind them
The shits and giggles of them
I wish I could make my dad laugh again
The cars passing by remind me of him;
my dad, the one who drives my family to wherever
I’m missing our long road trips to the province—
I wish I can experience them again right now
Days Pass
My dad got out of the hospital with sight and a voice;
Telling him about my new walking meditation journey
made him happy
He misses just walking with his 3 dogs;
a new feeling and connection between us,
only a unique family circumstance could ignite
***
Dear Da,
I feel you in me these days. I never watched you teach or preach,
but I see you now in the work I do with these students.
I couldn’t do it without you—not just the past you.
But all the elements of you alive in the present moment.
Right now. I hear the birdsong. If you weren’t
with me and in me, I wouldn’t appreciate this song.
I know this. And I know that I wouldn’t be able to share
This appreciation with Aislynn, with my students.
Da, there was a terrible tragedy yesterday.
The light of these young children was stolen from the world.
The light of their teachers was stolen.
The light of the young boy who took up the gun was stolen.
How many times can the heart break, Da?
I saw yours break so much.
It breaks again in me.
Our heartbreak is a great teacher
we are still learning from.
The heart says:
Let me break
wide open so that
I feel the suffering of the world,
the suffering of my brother and sister.
Let me break
wide open so that my inner light
shines out, across the darkness,
to those in need of embrace.
Let me break
But don’t be broken by my breaking.
Da, this will be my prayer for us
and for the world today.
***
Today I walk for you, Nonni. I walked around campus feeling the wind cut my arms and legs. I know you would have been on my case about not having a jacket and pants. And of course you would have been right. When were you ever wrong?
I should have gotten into an argument for you. You seemed to do it for sport. I remember not understanding it until you were giving Aunt L crap for something trivial, before you stopped to look at me and wink. You smiled and then receded to the sofa. I think that moment taught me a lot about your sense of humor. Playful ribbing to remind people of their imperfections. Or just funny observations. Because who are we to say you are wrong? Your experience speaks for itself. You always had something funny to say about dad or Aunt L. Something witty, never cruel.
I wish that disease hadn’t taken over. I wish I had known the Nonni that raised my dad. I walk for you today to feel the things I wish you could feel. I wish you could have been here for my graduation.
You used to say that Italians and Jews were the most stubborn, argumentative, dramatic people in the world. Then you would laugh hysterically, point at me, and say “and I’m both, so your future girlfriend better buckle up!” I always thought this was a warning, until now. I now think it was an invitation. This was your way of welcoming others to the family: by treating them the way you treated us. You showed us how to take life easy. If only I had learned this earlier.
Well, I gotta go. Have to go sit silently in a group and listen to others share their feelings. Wish you were here to crack a joke with me. We could all use a smile.
***
A leaf fell as I spoke about you, Da —
Is it a sign?
There’s bird poop on it.
You would laugh and say
“God’s there too,
in the poop.”
Part V.
Full Circle
We first met
behind masks
behind screens
conditions had
left us withered,
drooped and dry.
Now,
after ten weeks of practice,
I see you
as I see yellow clovers
who,
after the gloom passes,
show their faces
who,
in clear skies,
are lifted upward
by Moon
by Sun.
In this clear moment,
you, my dear wildflowers,
show your true face
you reveal our secret
solidarity.
***
My teacher told us to find a fallen leaf for our first assignment. I took this so seriously. Like, really serious. I was on a mission to be the best, better than my peers. I needed to find the perfect leaf with the brightest colors. I look back and laugh. That’s kind of like life. We are all trying to get that perfect leaf, but perfection is a moving target that will never be enough. So being enough is how I see perfect. Now, I slow down, become aware of my inner self, and open my eyes with a more peaceful, rested, and empathetic view of my surroundings.
***
Mirando al vacion, en estos momentos me doy cuenta que eh curado muchas heridas dentro de mi, unas que no eran tan profundas pero no me dejaban ser yo y ser feliz. Tengo demasiadas cosas que sanar todavia pero estoy orgullosa de que ya tengo un poco mas de control emocional y se cuando parar e irme, creo que si eh estado alimentando las buenas semillas en mi.
***
Si se PUDO!
I did it!
First generation
Breaking generational chains
Being a part of that statistic
That 11%
Go Dream big
Little girl
***
Today I mindfully write about you
Professor
The time we have shared together
Nothing can describe it
The lessons I have learned from you
I will cherish
You are truly a gift that keeps on giving
I am proud to call you my friend
***
Snake path
Trying my hardest to be quiet,
to be mindful
Avoiding harm to the Beetle in my path
But just a few steps forward
Nature had already taken its course on another
The cycle of life brings a feeling of peace
***
I wonder
Why would anyone
cut wildflowers?
