Tell Me Your Stories

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Tell me your spring stories
flourishing inside of you
after long ferment,
it has been quiet, hasn’t it,
but here we are, now,
every last piece of us
budding new under bright sun,
and not once did you leave
as everything else
stripped away, slowly,
and there was the agony
of standing by for the laying bare,
not once did your love wander,
did you seek too much,
and how this soothed me
in places sadness once grew.
The growth of things now rising,
framing us from earth to sky,
and maybe the stories
are not ripe just yet,
are still learning their worth.
Take my hand,
and I will hold yours,
and as we stay,
let us bear witness
to the wonders that will unfold.
 
– tammy takahashi
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Spring, Our Beautiful Perfection

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On a diffuse grey morning,
late winter surveys the barren landscapes
of hardened essence and wisdom in retreat,
holding on, but loosening its arthritic grip,
allowing soft rain to gather, fall, in snow’s stead.
The buds have not sprouted,
but the plum blossoms, which thrive
in the dance between cold and warm,
herald the wonderland of life to come,
like a promise, like a dream,
like nothing other than the beauty of what it is.
What will the spring bring?
Will we emulate nature and come forth,
with no hesitation at all,
on the side of creation?
Will we be soft on our struggles,
tender with our pain,
and grow into our full and vibrant potential?
Will we reclaim the intuitions
buried golden and deep for millennia,
long submerged by our own wintry confusions,
and play with what nourishes us?
Will we laugh, touch the earth,
look each other deep in the eye?
Will we celebrate the new season
and the new beginnings it offers,
in the way of the quiet lands around us,
that call for silence, which is reverence,
and a stilling of our heart’s great stirrings,
as the perfection of life once again emerges?
Will we heed of the extraordinary peace
and cooperation it takes to rebuild the world?
 
– tt

Shine Light on the World

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Life floods itself with life
but this is no drowning;
life will not be submerged.
 
The abundance can be
so difficult to grasp,
the infinite regeneration,
 
The peeking out from
winter’s dusky deep,
when from quiet readying,
 
From having burrowed
far, far down in the
ground of reckoning,
 
A budding into where
time dwells, governed by
phases of sun and moon,
 
And here it is again,
the thresholds surpassed,
the bounty pouring forth,
 
And it is as large as
dense forest trees
tumbling onto the road,
 
As magnanimous as
a mountain range hosting
the play of serpentine clouds,
 
As redemptive as grass
growing through the concrete,
going on and on and on,
 
And it is as small as
a cosmos being born
in the heart of one flower
 
The sacred lotus teaching:
how from murky depths, we
can shine light on the world. – TS

We are the Blossom

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Is there a revolution
in your mind?
Of course there is.
From yesterday to now,
thoughts and feelings
have travelled to the
sun, moon and back,
so imagine the days
before this, the years.
Oh, the way we fight
so hard to be
who we are,
to keep the pieces
whole and tethered,
to keep closed covers
on both ends of the story.
We are always
who we are.
The tree, from root to sky,
anchors the whole world
without questioning
the what of her.
The blossoms come out
to live in time
for just one week
before the rain brings
them to their lovely end,
and still they are
fiercely and only
what they are,
even as they resemble
themselves the least.
The light will hit them
a certain way,
threatening to change
everything we know,
and this looks a lot
like magic.
And this is the
revolution.
It is the stuff,
the same and
ever-changing
that weaves our lives
together, too.
May we always be
fully, wholly, wildly
what we are. – TS

The Path to Spring

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These are restless, porous days,
when what has been dried out
and hollowed in the living of
our darkened, wintry existence
 
Gives way, as moon to sun, to
the watering of spring, the juicy
filling out of aching joints, the
shadows of heart awaiting light
 
The long ache of cracking through
of stepping out, of tentative steps
to sun-drenched emergence, finding
the will to enter our rightful place
 
Come to the tree, then; she has been
through this hundreds, thousands
of times, has seen cold, barren land
quiver, and then zealously come to life
 
Feel her wholeness, her towering
solidity, and feel also the light, the
upward trajectory, ground to sky
the roots of her ever generating.
 
Wrap your arms around her and
remember, because you always
knew, that when mind surrenders
to heart, the movement is true. – TS

The First of Spring

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a flutter, a kiss

a hummingbird

singing to the breeze

it glides upon

 

a caress, a giggle,

skin coming alive

under what feels daily

like a brand new sun

 

a wink, a smile,

the sparkle in your eye

as you sprint and laugh,

awakening from deep slumber

 

a wish, a hope, a dream,

these are what emerge

along with the sprightly buds

heralding the first of spring. – TS