Tag Archives: sun

These Two Worlds


Afternoon, pouring rain,
blustery wind,
skies darkened
by immense thunderclouds,
and my body is tired
from a long morning hike
in the (almost) summer sunshine.
Memories dance through my mind–
forest shade and seas of ferns,
breezes so sweet
they were salvation
to my sun warmed skin.
How is it possible I can peer into
these two worlds at once:
the furious rain of reality
and the sweet heat of memory?
And sometimes reality is so sweet
and the memories pound in my mind
like an afternoon thunderstorm,
here in an instant,
gone in a flash.
Where am I, who am I
who knows these two worlds
yet belongs to neither?

This Universe


I awoke at 5:30,
sat in quiet.
As I rose from my seat
I noticed the sun was rising too.
I got to wondering…
Does the sun meditate
on light and dark?
Being itself the source of light
can it know what it is?
It must see these illumined planets
circling around–
does the sun know
these heavenly bodies shine
because of its own light?
How can it know its utter vastness
without some mirror
to reveal it to itself?
Looking out into the infinite depths of space
does it wonder what it is
and where it’s from?
And to think
there are countless galaxies,
countless solar systems
stretching out into the endless
expanses of space,
space that dwarfs our sun
and renders it inconsequential
in this enormous universe.
And here I am,
a tiny speck
on one little spinning ball of dirt,
wondering, wondering
about this universe
where so little is known.

NaPoWriMo 2015 Day 13: Giver of All Life


Without it I feel as dark and grey
as storm cloud filled skies
and nothing looks quite right–
there’s just not enough light.

The magic of its touch
gives leaves their green
as photophilic chloroplasts
dance and spin
in their leafy home.

The world would be so cold without it
but I will never see its end…
my life is but a grain of sand
in an infinite ocean,
waves pounding the shore
of anonymity.

But it–
its life span extends
closer to infinity,
at least it does
on the scale of humanity.

Invincible Summer

Invincible Summer

“Au milieu de l’hiver, j’ai découvert en moi un invincible été.”  –Albert Camus

I have seen the above quote translated in many different versions, but here I prefer the most direct translation:

“In the middle of winter, I discovered in me an invincible summer.”

Ahhhh, so beautiful.

It has been doggone cold in Maryland, and it seems like the winter will drag itself all the way into April.  Being cooped up in the house, always having to bundle up before venturing outside, and in general missing the sunshine has really worn my patience and my spirits thin.  So I’ve been thinking about old Albert’s beautiful words a lot lately, so much so that they’ve been running through my head several times an hour, seemingly on their own.

I think about the cold of this winter season, and the drear…how they manifest in the world of form:  ice, snow, bitter winds, nights that are long, the waiting, waiting, and more waiting for warmth, renewed life, renewed vigor.

And then I think about the winter that I have finally begun to face within me–the winter of my self, my spirit–and how this inner winter has manifested in my life:  darkness, loneliness, anger, resentment, rage, hopelessness, depression, doubt, envy, lack of motivation, holding on to things past their time because of a fear of letting go.  As I write these words, it seems to me on one hand as if I may never be fully  prepared to face the challenge of freeing myself from the bondage of my past, my conditioning, my genetic inheritance, and the choices I have made that haunt me.  On the other hand, it strikes me that I can greet this inner winter the same way I handle the outer one–I have no control over it, might as well be patient until the right conditions arise and things change naturally, of their own accord, when the time is right.

The yoga teacher in me seeks the balance that can be found between the two extremes of fighting to change and waiting for change.  Somewhere in there is Lorien, who can wake up and realize that she is doing the best she can, and know that it is enough to attend to the small details of childrearing, to navigate being in a marriage, to show up for work and pour her heart into teaching her students, and somehow manage to carve out time for self-exploration in the midst of all of her roles and responsibilities.

I want to believe that this process of realizing the awakened self in me can be just as natural as a flower opening in the light of the sun.  Just for this moment, I do believe it can be like this.  I can drop the ideas of pain and limitation, of toil and struggle and torment, and just let myself be who I am right now.  This knowing is the invincible summer in the midst of the seemingly endless winter.  No matter how much I am challenged by my doubts, fears, and regrets, and no matter how many beatings I may take from my inner critic, there is some wise part in me that holds my tenderest self with so much love and compassion that I know I have nothing to fear.  May I listen more and more to that wise part.

May I have the courage, strength, and endurance to do what needs to be done. And may I have the patience to allow the blossom of my true nature to unfurl when the time is right.

Note:  The picture of the blossom below was taken two days ago.  It’s a pomegranate bloom from one of my husband’s carefully tended banzai.  Such a cheerful sight in the middle of winter!

The flower of consciousness does not fade or wither, but grows more beautiful as time passes.
