Jan. 1, 2019
Every year, at this time, most of us think about the next years: What we might like to do, how we might like to be, make plans for the future. One of the recurring items on my annual list is to build a meditation practice, along with building a habit of writing regularly. It has had very mixed results. During this year, I started a piece, a note to self, so I thought I would share it with you.
Instruction to Self
Lower yourself onto a cushion,
cross your legs in Indian style.
Gently rock into position,
sit erect and wait awhile.
Breathe quite deeply from the belly,
let the outside world slip slide.
Cover eyes with eyelids, slowly,
focus inward, downward glide.
Around the house grandchildren play,
their noise intrudes from down below.
Draw their sounds into the fray
do not resist their verbal flow.
Project a painting on the eyelids,
Blue-green abstract,
faintly drawn.
Pay attention to a small piece,
magnify till the shape is gone.
Feel your body now relaxing,
blocks and strains replaced with calm.
Place your whole self at that viewing,
hold the stillness, sense the balm.
Peter Clarke 2018
Latest comments
25.11 | 22:15
Grief is experience through the mundane. Simple but powerful. The accompanying image really compliments the poem.
07.11 | 11:14
Hi Peter,
A great observation! Social media can be a scary place... I also need to reduce my time there
Hugs,
John.x
06.11 | 16:24
A great one, Peter, in the context you describe. I don't read social media myself, I doubt my equilibrium could stand it. 'The balance of his mind disturbed' yes, I think it would be.
06.11 | 15:59
Yes, gossip is a weapon of mass destruction.
In my business as well as personal life I have zero tolerance.
Echoes of the Old on the New Battlefields
Warrior chiefs of the GAA were early on the field to prepare:
Posts and cones positioned to mark territories
Very young novices came later by parents’ chariots
clad and shod for the ensuing battles
Firstly, paced for speed, resilience and flexibility,
then marked off into opposing teams
Each warrior chief led a young squad of hopefuls
in further exercises to bring them to fit levels
There followed a huddle, an exhortation rant,
responded with clamour of intent and enthusiasm
Skirmishes began, speed across the field, hunt for the ball,
to be delivered as the goal, or to be prevented at all costs
Warrior chiefs egged on, instructed, altered the field of play
the young ’uns complied with fighting spirit
For every fall and hurt spells were cast on the side line
till fitness returned and they were entered back into play
Scores mounted, roars enhanced, casualties grew,
novices flagged and regrouped across the fields
Between bouts came the talks of encouragement
Stay back, pass, pass, pass, keep the pace.
Old hands passing skill onto new palms with dedication,
a gift of generous wisdom gladly given
Peter Clarke
20th April 2024