Rest, for the world

If I was sick, say with the flu or maybe cancer, I would lie here, on the couch, like I did for a good long while this afternoon, and do nothing, except listen–to the sound of the breeze through the trees–like I once did for an entire summer of afternoons–the summer my mother lay dying, 300 miles away, my belly full with child, searching for my mother’s face in the leaves, for any sign of her wellbeing, and later, his mouth, on my breast–and instead of getting up and pushing through this hangover of family– an August wedding–too many hellos & goodbyes–in too short a time–instead of chasing away this deep fatigue, this ache in my bones, with food or caffeine or distraction, or even this here–these words I’m expressing–I would remain effortless, without choice, with only the rise and fall of my breath, and the sound of the leaves in the breeze, and my life, my living, and maybe even the world, would be better for it.

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Capricorn, My Mother’s Moon

My mother’s moon. Capricorn.

Full moon and fox den and hotflash…
In lieu of releasing into a deep sleep,
I open to the sensations around me,
including the ocean-like rustle
of the breeze through the trees,
and the squeal of pups,
and the fine mist across my forehead & between my breasts & in the crook of my arms;
and I ride it all,
like a wave,
only not the kind that crests & breaks & tumbles
toward the shore,
but the deeper swell,
that rises and falls, rises and falls,
like breath…
And I think:
This is how I’ll die.

And I think…

Thank you Mom.

Home for the Holidays

No matter how “enlightened” I  feel in from my perch in the Green Mountains, everything shifts when I return to the place of my origin by the sea.

Once arriving in the arms of my extended family, I feel both a sense of “sweet belonging” and complete uprooted-ness.

Within 48 hours among familiar faces & places, the old feelings of inadequacy, confusion and anxiety consume my previously clear mind.

I begin to panic, wondering how these old “enemies” continue to find me here.  Where do they hide?

But there are angels too. Friends who mention breath on Facebook.  You Tube prayers of peace.

And I discover something new about these old uncomfortable expressions of expectation:  If I remain present to them, however excruciating, they dissipate, quickly, and I am “myself” again, wherever I am–especially here among the salt water and the sand and the sea.

I used to think that life was a journey from A to Z, but now I know that peace IS an every moment kind of thing.

Kelly Salasin