For this piece, I have my Chere Mama to thank as the inspiring muse. Well, her and the gorgeous California sun, and some days spent by the sea celebrating her 60th birthday this past weekend. It’s nice to take time to come home, re-charge, and reunite with some family friends. Plus, my parents know how to throw a party. So while it’s not really a Hustle Meditation, it is another type of love poem, which as you know are the types that I love best. Please enjoy.
Every day is an opportunity to bless and be blessed,
and some days
I feel the truth of this, can barely contain myself in it.
I just sit in awe, letting my lower lip drop a fraction
feeling so delightfully tangled
and not caring the way the elements
play with my hair.
In moments like this I know the truth,
that eyes are made for so much more than seeing;
that I exist somehow also to be seen
watched and tenderly tended as I grow,
blossoming into brilliant flower and fruit.
And as I watch her
I aspire to become as beautiful and wise.
I want to learn to do as she does,
maturing enough to take these jeweled petals and
give myself away
becoming the medicine someone needs,
the spice in a soup made to soothe and nourish,
or the note in a perfume that enchants.
I hope one day to be picked and made into a tea
or a sweet smelling bath for a child weary from pushing her tender shoots out of the earth for the first time,
like my mother was for me.
I know that I will remember to dance,
to roll around, hang upside down if the mood strikes me, spread myself across the world,
caressing every corner before I go.
I will dry gracefully like roses that still hold the magic of a thousand valentines or love spells,
becoming somehow more potent as the heavenly bodies whirl around us.
It is a blessing to know now that we are dancing together.
In this moment there is nothing but gratitude
and I feel so much more like a thief than a poet
to have so much.
So I breathe in deeply
the blessing that is today
knowing I am only borrowing the wind.
As my breath dissolves, I feel such relief
because I am giving it back to you.
Perhaps I can be the poet after all;
she is the one who gives everything away.
For you Mama! On your birthday!