A Poem and Sun Salutation for Summer Solstice

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On this summer solstice, the longest day of the year, saluting the sun (in the basement, not to awaken the beautiful sleeping ones, the sun peering in) and a poem: ☀️

To the sun,
Dear glowing orb
Gliding through the horizon,
Peeking over fabled mountaintops
Before rising seamlessly
According to your principles,
Never straying,
So that the rise is a triumph,
Every time,
And in your vast expanse,
We know we, too,
Are invited,
To rise,
To bring hand to heart,
Arch chest to sky,
Lift our gaze
Between our brows,
Where sun and moon meet,
And beyond,
To the one great source
Of light.
To the sun,
For giving us our days
With your brazen warmth,
And for your twilight descent,
Which gives us our
Seasons in a day,
And the darkness
You fortify us to face
Before each new dawn.

– Tammy Stone Takahashi

 

Sun Salutations

Love Stories Everywhere

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There are love stories everywhere,
in the butterflies of first caresses,
in the clouds shaped like hearts.
Love can be found in the flowers
opening each morning to feed the bees,
in a mother’s warm, soothing embrace.
There is love in interlocking treetops,
in their roots intertwined underground
to help each other, and feed the world.
Love builds a mama bird’s nest
for her babies’ fledgling first days,
and makes a rainbow from rain.
Love arches the sun up toward the moon,
and the moon across the breadth of sky,
and love makes all the oceans swell.
Love lets us forgive our gravest mistakes,
and come to believe in new beginnings,
And love lets me reach deep inside,
where I sometimes forget love resides,
and turn all of the darkest places to light,
until I know: love stays, love abides.
 
– Tammy Takahashi

Our Beating Heart

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Passing through,
deep-down reckonings with
our place in a world
made perfect with
our humble imperfections.
The sun, which does not dim
in our darkest days,
the sky, never once lowering
as we dive into our every shadow,
the view, always changing,
the light speckling magic
where we least expect it
before it continues its dance
across the spaces
we inhabit,
between us,
passing through,
moving toward what stills us
past change,
past commotion,
in our truest space:
our beating heart.
 

The Hand Reaches the World

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From an infinite well
I draw.
I draw,
first weeping. The
sorrows, boundless,
leaking from every corner
of my existence
into rivers and oceans
that carry the blood and carnage
of historical time
along a bed teeming darkness.
The sorrow returns
on self-same waters
but this time, they don’t
seep back in through my pores,
but stand before me,
and I look,
and I see.
Our journeys have diverged,
the sorrow now a story
I can read, take apart,
disengage from, though
it still breaks my heart
as long as there is
suffering.
From my place of heartbreak,
that place of pulsing life and living,
with all its triumphs too, and joys,
I draw from an infinite well.
I draw,
now bowing, smiling in tears,
knowing suffering belongs
to none of us alone,
that our stories commingle
and we don’t have to do
a single thing to enter
the place, One Heart,
that belongs to us all,
at once.

– tammy takahashi

 

 

 

Seeking Truth

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We say we need rest,
but refuse to slow down.
We say we want peace,
but refuse to stop blaming.
We say we want happiness,
but refuse to seek its causes.
We say love is the answer,
but refuse to believe in love.
We say we want connection,
but refuse to reach out.
We say we reject violence,
but refuse the way to harmony.
We say we care for the earth,
but refuse to listen to her cry.
We say that all lives matter,
but refuse to respect life.
But something else is true:
We mean what we say.
We want for things to be good,
and to know what good is.
This is our foundation;
This is our imperfect beauty;
This is our sacred humanity.
May we honour the truth
in what we say and believe,
and seek their realization.

– tammy takahashi

For Love, Always Love

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It is never a case
of the absence of love.
As long as there are eyes seeing,
there is the slow drift to beauty,
the sigh of relief of finding
our dearest hopes confirmed,
and this is love.
As long as there are voices singing,
there is an invisible, potent thread
connecting the very heart of the world
to the very heart of our selves,
and this can only be love.
As long as there are hearts breaking,
there knowing we are in the wake
of a full surrender to love,
and now, a day for new surrender,
nothing to do, everything to feel,
and this is full, complete,
sweet, never-ending love.
And love makes love.
In breath, each moment,
to the last.

– tammy takahashi

For a Short Time

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For a few days,
the cherry blossom trees
come alive in bloom,
decorating the world like snow,
as if in joyous collaboration
with the winter just passed,
as if to remind us of the continuity
embedded in all this change.
For a few days,
the senses are heightened,
the sky has opened
to give space for all that grows,
and the moon grows large and quiet,
illuminating the beauty
that wants to be seen,
touched, most of all, felt.
For a few days,
the gates to our perception fly open,
maybe slowly, if we are afraid,
and we can start with one blossom,
her fragile pink petals
delicately announcing herself,
giving everything she has
before falling to soft sweet earth.

– tammy takahashi

Sacred Geometry

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We take what is holy
and make it again, and more,
lighting it with our recognition,
creating glory with the simple act
of seeing new, seeing again.
And it is not just what we see
that makes us laugh and dance,
but we who are seeing,
the untold, hundredfold ways
we have arrived here, now,
to notice magic with our own.
And so we weave, chant,
imbue the ever-changing world
with all the things we’ve learned
and have carried in our blood,
and it is more than we ever knew,
and we are finally ready, and bold,
and spin a new colour from gold,
to lay it like a wreath
on what is already felt complete
but will always sustain
our heartened and earnest more.

How About Kindness?

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How about, instead of asking
where I come from,
you ask me where I want to go,
and instead of offering your name,
you find self in a warm embrace?
How about a smile instead of a rebuttal,
an ear for listening instead of shouting?
How about looking at a rainbow,
and marveling at how few you’ve seen,
and are likely yet to see in this life,
and mark the day as a miracle?
How about making wondering,
wandering, too, your true vocation,
becoming a master in the art of awe?
How about looking around
and seeing it all for the first time,
inventing new shapes in the clouds
before they, too, disappear,
and how about inviting this change,
and finding beauty in what can’t be held?
How about finding a new perspective
instead of delighting in the already known;
how about finding and honoring
both the teacher and student in you?
How about taking your shoes off
and grounding in the earth,
and feeling this support through life?
How about talking to trees,
Finding songs in a breeze,
How about being still and
catching it all and remembering:
There is so much love where I am,
and I am here, and I am free.