allison miller

November 25, 2014 Comments Off


We drive to the marketplace, from our quiet country retreat house in southern Vermont.  I have no desire to leave, or buy anything, but when I see the fine stores, and the people selling homemade Vermont Pies, I become excited.  

I don’t even like eating sugar and gluten.  But I am fortunate, I know I am excited by the idea of a homemade Vermont Pie, by what it means to me, much more than the reality of eating one.  This knowledge saves me from having to eat it, and then feeling tired and foggy — the opposite of the clear energy I feel now.

wielding the sword
of self-knowledge
illusory temptations
slain by seeing what they are

It’s so nice to be here with my friends.  We are poets, on a writing retreat, and have come to town “looking for poetry,” not clothes, though I joke that a good sale is poetry!  The night before we talk about the power of mindfulness.  How being mindful gives our lives — our moments — the depth, richness, and even sweetness that we so often complain is missing.  We wonder aloud — is it easier to be mindful in the country or the city?  Some think it is easier in the country.  That the city’s distractions and temptations dissipate our intent.  The question hangs in the air, is it true?  

As I step into the marketplace, I remember this conversation.  I remind myself that what I truly want is not in these stores.  I do so in response to the “wanting excitement” that has arisen within me as I see them.  The word equanimity forms silently on my lips, encouraging me to be so.  This reminder helps me reject anything that is not in accordance with this intent, but also, to relax and enjoy it all.  Throughout the day, I don’t fall into any indecisiveness about what I want and don’t want to buy.  I notice this is the best time to go shopping.  When I am not looking for answers in the wrong places, but rather seeking poetry.  When what I’m buying is a condiment to the nourishment already found within.  Anchored by my deepest desire as I try on the finely made warm, comfortable robe, and beautifully fitting winter coat, it is not hard to forgo buying them.

leslie ihde

November 6, 2014 Comments Off

Primary Colors

I always look for the primary colors that inform the color of any thing. The cherry floor of my office is red with tones of gold and soft brown. I review the indigo, white, black and wine in my oriental rugs as these colors dance tight arrangements of joy and prayer. The multiplicity of the colors in the rugs warm then shatter the room. In conversation, too, I look for colors. The person speaking has a color. Many, really. But I am looking for the hidden color, the one the person himself doesn’t know about. Found under sadness, or anger, or circular repetitions of thought, the person’s hidden color is teased from the blur of muddy experience. This color pops like the red in my floor from grain lines and brown. Familiar, like a friend, I see primary colors revealed in their eyes; no, past their eyes, past their talk.

a flicker of gold
on the side of the mountain~
brief reversal
dark sky, light earth
dancing spirit

Color is a yoga pose. Steady breath and gaze centered by the command deep within. Deeper than the person, deeper than the day, deeper than the life that lives like a wave moving toward shore. The crash is joyous and dreadful, the color of water elusive. My eyes are steady. Perception draws the line from ocean to shore.

no movement
color no color
the ballet of water
slaps hard land

My uncle was the nice one. Favored by my grandmother for his sweetness, he lies in bed now, the final days of his life. I contemplate the gift that I could send him. Primary colors. The lucidity of spirit-blue, the flame of insight-saffron gold. Maybe he would want green life, turbulent and frightening, or the red heart of hunger. I will give him the color of water. Water when it is still and vast, love when it is depthless. Primary Emptiness. The peace that astonishes.

land on this shore
frightened one
I hold you
for minutes and years
in a flash of wonder

melissa davis

October 26, 2014 Comments Off

“A Poem”

Blank notebook pages wait
A yellow pencil taps
A solitary body sits
Tense hands pause

An open mind wanders
Nerve synapses snap
Inspiration Arrives
Loose fingers type

“The Wind”

A whistle
A whisper
Something did pass
A gust
A gasp
Hair and fur twirl with time
A swish
A swoosh
Trees way yet stand tall
A holler
A howl
Animals give way
A pulse
A purr
Pause, silence

mamta madhaven

October 23, 2014 Comments Off

glass windows
reflect a moving city
our evenings together
fade with time
within me

leslie ihde

October 18, 2014 Comments Off

in the moon light
a voice calls me -
I hear that
it is my own

Mindful Relationship

October 3, 2014 Comments Off

Bringing together spirituality, art and psychology, Leslie is working on a project called the Mindful Relationship Workbook. A collection of illustrated exercises and practices for couples, friends and individuals who want to make their relationship the heart of their mindfulness practice, the Mindful Relationship Workbook will be an inspirational guide. Click on the “K” on the upper left hand side of the video if you would like to take a look.

heather minette

August 24, 2014 Comments Off


She points out the sky to herself now,
says these stars shine just for me.

But when the moon hangs so low
she lets herself remember,

his laugh suspended
in last December’s air.

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