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Tag Archives: Creative Writing

All Is Well

To listen to this post being read on my podcast, instead of or in addition to reading it here, please follow this link: https://soundcloud.com/inmindfulmotion/all-is-well

There are some things I would never see fit to write, were it not for the simple fact that I rise early in the morning, when darkness still paints the sky.

Here are some examples, from this morning’s journal session:

It’s 4:12am, Saturday morning.
I awoke at 3:00 and did the should-I-shouldn’t-I dance till roundabout 3:45,
before the I-should won out.
As in: I’m awake, I should just get up.
I knew snow must’ve fallen overnight,
as soon as I stepped into the living room.
Despite the curtains having been drawn,
a brightness perfumed the air.

4:53am.
A light snow falls outside.
Tucked into the warmth of my home cocoon,
all is well.
Only the hum of the pilot light is audible.
Well, that and the gliding strokes of my pen over paper
as I write this.

Everything speaks a different language in sleep mode.

If you have a yearning to foster the sense that our world isn’t a junk show,
or that good people abound,
or that beauty is a thing that exists in every landscape we find ourselves amid,
practice bearing witness to the spell of early morning.
It might very well be the thing that rallies a new resounding melody within you,
in which to sway your heart and feet forward.

__________

The practice of Being Here Now does not disclude us from delving into the past or planning for the future. However, as mindfulness practitioners committed to our practice, we must develop a level of awareness in order to investigate the difference between what is skillful, helpful, and kind and what is serving to further exasperate feelings of attachment, turmoil, and disconnection. (Working analogy: We should only operate a time machine device if we know how to make proper use of all the controls and gadgetry. Otherwise, we risk getting stuck in the year 1985 without the benefit of hairspray and parachute pants.)

In short, we need to know how to visit the past and future without setting up shop there. To apply our mindfulness practice to working constructively with the past and future, we need to effectively use the tools that will bring us back to the here and now.

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Posted by on November 24, 2018 in writer's life

 

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Sorrow

Last Saturday, as part of a show I helped to put together called Word of Mouth, I shared a newish spoken word piece I wrote this past spring, entitled: Sorrow. There’s a chance I’ve already posted it here on my blog somewhere – but I did a quick search and didn’t see it, so I’m a-thinking perhaps not.

This particular piece sums up rather well the past year for me, in terms of some deeper inner work I’ve been doing. It was only the second time I’d shared it publicly – the first time being out of town at a spoken word gig I had up north in Kalispell in June. It felt fitting to share it with my home crew last Saturday. I’d like to share it here with all of you, as well. Here goes.

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Words Matter

It’s been quite the week.

A week I could (and did) summarize by the title of this post: Words matter.

At the start of the week on Monday, we had an especially lovely evening at our local sangha, Be Here Now. It was one of those nights where the sharing was really genuine and heartfelt, we had a large group (over 30 people), and we had someone join us who’d just moved to town and was so grateful for having found our group and to feel so welcomed and right at home with us.

On Tuesday, I attended a forum on hate crimes on the UM campus (see previous post).

On Thursday, I attended a public talk on campus given by Christian Picciolini, founder of the Free Radicals Project and author of White American Youth: My Descent Into America’s Most Violent Hate Movement – and How I Got Out.

Unlike the Hate Crimes Forum I attended on Tuesday night, the seats were well-packed. While there were a mixture of ages in the audience, UM students occupied the largest demographic and I took great pleasure in being surrounded by 7 others in my close proximity who donned notebooks on their laps in lieu of cell phones.

And last night, I helped organize an event called Word of Mouth at our local Roxy theater here in Missoula. An evening which celebrated the art of creative self-expression through wordsmithing. We had 3 spoken word poets (myself included), 3 storytellers, and 3 standup comics take the stage, each with 10-minutes, for a 2-hour show that was simply fantastic. The show started at 7:00 and by 6:30 all 119 seats were sold out. Dozens of folks were turned away at the door – which speaks to me of the great need for continuing to offer these types of events.

Collage pic of all the WOM performers in the show last night

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Last Week’s Travels in Brief

Lolo Pass

Friday (Aug 31st), a motorcycle ride to Lolo Pass revealed a furthering of a truth I’d already suspected: autumn is edging out summer in the mountains.

Missoula airport

Saturday, 3 planes to cross the country revealed another wave of contemplation of the many ways I connect with my sense of what it means to be home.

Day of mindfulness at Morning Sun, outdoor walking meditation

Sunday, a community of path-walkers gathered in the woods, revealed a higher calling to go the way of the ancient urging of togetherness.

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Beep-beep, Beep-beep

Operating on daily habit and my fond affection for my morning routine, I woke at 5:02am, just as my alarm intended.

As soon as my eyes popped open, however, I remembered that our all-day venture to the east coast will situate us at our final destination around 11:00pm, with still an hour plus drive to go before a bed will be a sight for sore bones.

With two layovers, a time change, and the fact that we’re in the seldom held position of needing to check our bags, I figure we have about a 14-hour day in which to spend in airports and airplanes and it will likely be close to 1am before we see the start of a proper rest.

So, I attempted to go back to sleep, re-setting my alarm for 6:02. I tried twice, even. And each time, my alarm saw fit to not properly receive the message. Beep-beep, Beep-beep, Beep-beep, my little bedside watch chirped.

It was as if, from a great sense of duty, it were saying: Nicole, get up, get up. Don’t worry buddy, I won’t let you fall back asleep. You can count on me!

And I was all like: Thanks friend, but, like, actually, I would dig another hour’s worth of sleep. Is that cool?

But, like what happens with myself more often that I probably realize, my alarm was unable to listen, stuck-tied to its own agenda.

 
 

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Kinds of Love

There are some people I only love from afar.

The way one might revel in a painting in a museum

while standing across the room.

There are others I love like

dipping in close to smell a wild rose.

Absorbing it full throttle

but only for a short burst of time.

There are some I love like movie theater popcorn:

ravenously but only once in a great while.

And then there are those I love like music and tea,

drinking them in as often as I can.

 

 

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On Motorcycling

My husband Mike leading the way through Glacier National Park, July 2018

On Motorcycling

To experience what it means to fall in love with motorcycling – to have an enthusiasm alight and burn within – one needs to embody certain qualities:

  1. An ability to sit still.
  2. Adaptability to weather varying road conditions.
  3. Fortitude (cuz it can sure get gusty out there)
  4. Enough openness of heart to allow the wind of a ride to clear out the mental static, replacing the day’s un-pleasantries with spaciousness and ease.
  5. Strength of character to both hold your own and be a good pack member.
  6. Steadiness of disposition.
  7. A go-with-the-flow approach to life enough to make it possible for the rumble of an engine beneath you to stir up a power that recharges you.
  8. An appreciation of what the open road has to teach and offer.
  9. An admiration for the capacity of a ride’s ability to alter your perspective of time and space and sense of connection.
 

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