Tomorrow

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t has never been the same,
but still we have fallen into
our comforts, taken to the belief
that things get better, that
there is a sheen on the horizon,
which is always, deliciously, ahead,
and if we stopped here, maybe,
in the playground of our versed hopes
and our deepest wisdom,
our steps would graze the ground
lighter, a golden future we’d make
from the firm beingness of now.
But what of the other side,
the way we turn to the past,
not with our bare feet on holy ground,
but with our eyes turned inward,
fixed on an object that never, really, is?
The happy-laced, the moments receding,
buried so in a fortress of our love and
desire, that it changes colours, hardens
and turns without our ever knowing,
and we intuit that we must leave
them where they are, but
we build altars and shrines
around them, with our tenderness
but also our fear, for we know
that in their unveiling, there would
be a disappearance, and a shudder
would pass through us, like lightning,
as though nothing remained, as
though we were not here, blood
and bone and hope on sacred
ground, still moving toward
the beckoning hues of tomorrow.
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I, Between Ground and Sky

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I am my contradictions;
I am not my contradictions.
You will find me here,
a little too far away, maybe,
from the depths of the ocean floor,
where movement is unweighted grace,
and the talking, deep and sonorous
and capable of stretching for miles,
exactly and quietly where it needs to go;
a little too removed, maybe,
from the vast blanket of sky,
that knows how to stay,
that holds space for shifting clouds
suspended, it seems to me,
in a state of satiation and whimsy,
unburdened by their responsibility
to nourish us, to not fall right down
before their job is done;
and there is no clashing of the clouds,
is there, only seamless integration.
I am not in one place or the other,
and before I can determine what this means
about where I am,
my mind drifts like the sea creatures and the clouds,
chasing colours I am sure I have forgotten.
But I remember –
it is in my nature, as I try
to find the ground between,
the soft, bold place in the center of my being,
to get caught between two places
now and then as I journey through
the realms of hope and hunger and despair,
to love and hold the untruths that
have made me, and regard them, and let go,
as I make my unhurried movement,
like the dolphins do,
toward grace.

– TT

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We Are Gold: A Poem

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our gilded days
and we are –
an imperfect yet holy
refraction
caught in our desires
that come down to this:
to be whole
to be loved,
and the mistakes we make
in the way we cannot
recognize
that we are not what is
left over, incomplete,
searching,
no, we are a reflection,
illumined and pure,
of the vastest space
we can imagine,
and I envision this,
as I my eye catches the spark
of the sun glinting off
gold leaf
on sacred temple grounds:
I don’t have to transport myself
anywhere
for my transmutation.
I am here
with everything that is,
and I will stay here,
until I understand that
love seeps through me
the way the moon
bleeds her light into the sky,
unhindered, abundant,
limitless, moving mountains and seas
with nothing but
inner light.
– TS

The Woman I Am

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if i look close enough
i’m at ocean’s bottom
hovering just above
a bed of rock and gem
unbound by the weight
of my own body
and all her secrets

for here, the little stones
speak to me in silence,
the vibrant lush ones
know songs I have
not yet learned,
transmuted into colors
my heart understands

and what if it is
not the deep seas
and I am still governed
by the laws of earth-
bound nature, and I
am no longer a mermaid,
but a woman who can
choose the light and free? – TS

A Fruit for Every Season.

Tammy T. Stone

Tammy T. Stone

 

A Fruit for Every Season

(Thailand)

There are a few fruit shake stands by the main food court area in Thongsala, the port town on Ko Phangan, one of Thailand’s favourite islands to do yoga. But there is unarguably the best stand. It’s not even because the service is better or for one of those ineffable reasons we are happy to leave alone as we enjoy what is prepared for us. The reason is clear: they offer, by far, the most fruit combinations (about 60). You order by number and the fruit are also depicted as animated images, so there the chances of language barrier complications happening are reduced to almost nothing. We had a few delicious shakes there without incident, but despite the friendliness of the girl and older man operating the stand, there have been two incidents that leave me wondering, not for the first time, what went wrong, and why. The first time was at night. Only an older Russian couple (I could source them after hearing them speak) was there with me, and they’d just arrived. I placed my order by pointing to the numbers listing the different shakes on the large menu. Then I started observing their fascination with the fruit shake phenomenon. They must have been new to Thailand. Through their gestures I understood that the husband was explaining to his wife that you can order any combination on the list, and started listing some of the fruit to her. She was intrigued but tentative, like the stand or she might set on fire if she moved closer. Eventually she honed in and said, Ah! She pointed directly to one combination that her husband explained to her (the fruits were depicted as somewhat hazy images): milk and tomato. I never noticed this combination before, and marveled at hour differently everyone’s brains work. Eventually they ordered (not the milk and tomato one). A couple of minutes later, the girl gave me my two shakes, but one was obviously not mine, because I ordered one with beet root, which turns shake a deep purple that mine clearly was not. I gave it back to her and told her the number I ordered in Thai. She repeated it back to me without any explanation. Finally she took the shake and started making a new one. Then, out of the corner of my eye I’m pretty sure I saw her give my wrong shake to the Russians, who didn’t know any better. If I’d known this would have happened, I would have taken the wrong shake so the newcomers to Thailand could enjoy the shake they ordered. The second incident: we ordered coconut/mint/passionrfruit, and got watermelon, which, strangely, isn’t one of the 60 fruit on the menu. Most importantly, I hope the Russian couple enjoys their stay on the island.