Fine China

My daughters appear delicate at times and resilient when I think they would collapse. Moms need to always be strong and set a good example. But, we are in fact like fine china. We want to be special, and treated with care. We want to be appreciated for our artistry and refinement. And we never want to be dropped or we will be broken into a dozen pieces. As I pack the fine china to move into a smaller home, I wonder what I will do with it. Every piece was a gift or belonged to my grandmothers who are now gone. The delicate cream and sugar bowls seem to be relics of the past when there was time to sit and have tea and chat with ladies. My daughters will probably not use such things or care about them. I enjoyed hosting teas and having women over for book discussions or Sunday School meetings. Do women do that anymore? I now send text messages to my girlfriends if I want to hear from them. And when we get together at parties; the men and women split so that one group can talk sports and politics and the other about children and charities. Easy to guess which is which, isn't it? My daughters have collected many nick knacks over the years. They will also have to pack them up or sort through and decide if they have any use. Their books will be replaced by Kindles, and the thousands of crayons markers and pens will be replaced by keyboards and touch screens. What goes in the garbage will make archaeologists scratch their heads in a hundred and thousand years. But all our trappings are really just a distraction from the fact that we surround ourselves with items that have memories. We want to hold on to the good feelings we had with the people who taught us and brought us love. Moving helps us to let go of things. It should NEVER make us let go of love and the people we love.

Concertric Circles

Concentric Circles

Release the pain,
Embrace the power.

A path to contentment is circling back
To remember and release.
Then to persuade and assist company
On the revolution of time
Into eternity.

In my midnight world
Where reality is beyond reality,
I am plagued by the painful conflicts
I deny in the daylight.

The gift is to awake
And find the madness to be false
In that way we control the outcomes.
I recognize the crazy clues,
That allows me to step
To the next level of subconscious,
Letting go each layer of disappointment
And unreasonable desire.

The new day revolves around a center
Where the half night exists only to be awakened
By the next sleep.

We release the pain through meditation,
Only to gather new ones
Through sloth and excessiveness of the mind and body.
The pain can be released
Through slow and patient manipulations
And replaced with the power
To assist souls in their orbits.

We are not linear
But cyclical spins of atomic power.
I am the planet comatose.

Kimalaya 2010