For This Moment
Just
for
this
moment
~
our
eyes
lock
~
and
we
feel
peace;
~
We
promise
silently
~
to
be
still
together,
~
enveloped
in the
arms
of
nature;
~
To
behold
~
the
gentle
beauty
~
that
is
you
~
that
is
me;
~
The
world
gets
quiet:
~
a
breath
~
a
gaze,
~
and
then
~
you
are
gone;
~
leaving
me
~
to
wonder
~
if
our
meeting
~
was
merely
~
a
dream.
~~~
©Robyn Lee
Joyful Thanks
Sometimes when we seek the
song of our heart,
we discover the
music of
Joy
~
RL
Happy Thanksgiving to All!
Much Love
~~~
Robyn Lee
Poetry Of Hope
“I stay in the realm of realism,
but always carry with me the fantasy,
the romance, the wish fulfillment–
the poetry of hope.”
~~~
Lynne Greenerg
The Body Broken
During the last 2 decades I’ve read most everything I could find to help me make sense of my unexpected plight with chronic pain, and the complex medical maze that I was suddenly thrust into as a young mother at age 30. During a particularly difficult time several years ago, I read a book entitled, The Body Broken, by Lynne Greenberg. This book had a profound impact on my outlook, and my approach to life.
Lynne’s book is a lyrical memoir, written by a talented writer, sensitive soul and professor of literature who faced, quite similarly to me, a world that suddenly ‘changed on a dime’. I would recommend this book to everyone. It is a literary treasure, and poetic masterpiece that speaks honestly and directly to the plight of facing adversity, and discovering courage to reinvent a joyful life in the face of challenge, and physical pain that is not easily remedied. Lynne taught me a great deal by her noble example, and for this I am grateful and honored to share her work.
I invite you to take a few moments here to view this video clip of a brief interview with Lynne (aired on ABC with Diane Sawyer). It will provide you a flavor for her wonderful book, and also introduce you to the brave, beautiful and creative spirit that she is.
click here: Living With Chronic Pain | Video – ABC News
Much Love Always
~
Robyn Lee
My Lens
As we stand before
the garden
so
lush
~
you
ask:
“Which lens
will you choose
to view
the world?”
~
Without hesitation,
I reply:
“I choose the lens
that
illuminates
the sky…
so
I may sparkle
amongst the
evening
stars,
and
slide down
the golden rays of
morning
sun.”
~
Approvingly,
you nod,
and
query:
“Can you tell me more
about this lens
you
long for?”
~
I exclaim:
“I wish
for
this lens
to
enlighten,
and
show me
how to dance
with trees,
as they
sway
to
and
fro
with
reverence
for
wind’s most
soulful
song.”
~
You gaze at me,
with a most
curious stare,
and say:
“Ahhh, but tell me,
can you
even
find
such a
lens to call
your own?”
~
I pause,
and
wistfully
declare:
“Oh yes, Oh yes!
I will
find
this lens;
This looking
glass
that
inspires
my fingers
~
to
touch
the delicate
silken petals
of
even the
smallest
flower,
and
to
explore
the deepest
lines
ingrained
on
earth’s fallen
leaves.”
~
You sigh,
seemingly
satisfied,
“Hmm,”
you say,
in a low
contemplative
tone,
“but this wonderful
lens you
speak of…
tell me
of
the most
perfect
vision
it
will
ultimately
reveal.“
~
And then,
I smile,
slowly closing
my
hopeful eyes,
and
profess:
“I choose the lens
that guides me
gently…
through
the open
doors
of
my own
heart,
so that I
can
see
~
with perfect
precision
and
clarity
~
every
glorious
color
of
~
Your
Love.”
~
© Robyn Lee
Storm Surge
Tide Surge Raising Fear
Penetrating Eye Of Storm
Hurricane, Have Heart
~
The above self-portrait was shot at
9 o’clock pm Monday night.
This was high-tide for our area, and the
the height of intensity for Hurricane Sandy.
As many of you know, following mandatory evacuation,
I fled with my puppy to a hotel location on Sunday, and
took shelter there with many other evacuees where we lost
power, heat and hot water.
Both humans and pets shared a common bond,
in the midst of the pending natural disaster.
Together at our “safe haven” hotel, people quickly
became caring friends. There were 11-year old twin girls entertaining
Rumi for me, as people offered to share flashlight batteries, and
whatever food they brought along.
Sadly, many lost their homes, and there were
numerous heartbreaking stories of
personal struggle and devastation.
What was obvious and uplifting though,
was the instant shared camaraderie and faith among
these strangers, in the face of fear.
I am very thankful that my
home has remained mostly
in tact, less some property damage,
I will finally be returning tomorrow,
as we just received word that our power,
heat and hot water have
been restored as of this evening.
I offer continued prayers for all of those who
have suffered loss and struggle in
the wake of this powerful storm,
and want to express my most heartfelt thanks to all
of my wonderful friends here, who have kept us in
thought and prayer for safety.
Much Love,
Robyn Lee
She Spins
round – and – round she twirls
dreamer spinning fairy tales
orbiting wonder
~~~
we came spinning
out of nothingness
scattering stars
like dust
the stars made a circle
and in the middle
we dance
the wheel of heaven
circles God
like a mill
if you grab a spoke
it will tear your hand off
turning and turning
it sunders
all attachment
were that wheel not in love
it would cry
“enough! how long this turning?”
every atom
turns bewildered
beggars circle tables
dogs circle carrion
the lover circles
his own heart
ashamed,
I circle shame
a ruined water wheel
whichever way I turn
is the river
if that rusty old sky
creaks to a stop
still, still I turn
and it is only God
circling Himself
~Rumi~
Beyond
Take me beyond
these rocky
shores
~
Beyond
twilight
skies
~
Through
celestial
doors;
~~~
Show me your
deepest
fiery
place
~
Where we
dance to
Love’s
song
~
In
our
sacred
embrace;
~~~
Take me beyond
the raw
edge of
day
~
Past the
fields
of
forever
~
Where moon
shadows
dare
play.
~~~
©Robyn Lee
Pier Anticipation
will
wait
for you
On
the
wooden
planked
pier
honest
and
free
the sea,
you and
me.
arrive
before
for
two;
can
bring the
chilled
wine
time.
watch
day
turn to
skies
glow
salt
air
our
eyes:
My Mother’s Light
~
Just as the magnificent sun shines high in the sky,
my Mother’s light illuminates the heart of each
soul who is so blessed to know her smile,
her kindness, her radiance…her Love.
Happy Birthday Mom;
I Love you Always!
Robyn Lee
The Mother
~Kahlil Gibran
The most beautiful word on the lips of mankind is the word “Mother,”
and the most beautiful call is the call of “My mother.”
It is a word full of hope and love, a sweet and kind word
coming from the depths of the heart.
The mother is everything– she is our
consolation in sorrow, our hope in misery,
and our strength in weakness.
She is the source of love, mercy,
sympathy,and forgiveness….
Everything in nature bespeaks the mother.
The sun is the mother of earth and gives it its nourishment of heart;
it never leaves the universe at night until it has put the earth to sleep
to the song of the sea and the hymn of birds and brooks.
And this earth is the mother of trees and flowers.
It produces them, nurses them, and weans them.
The trees and flowers become kind mothers
of their great fruits and seeds.
And the mother,
the prototype of all existence,
is the eternal spirit,
full of beauty and love.
Figs: The Secret
The Fig
is
Erotic?
Oh please,
tell me
How
~
I’d not the
slightest
idea,
until here
until now;
~
Please pardon
my
blushing,
Don’t mean
to
offend
~
But I must
share
my discovery,
Since we’re
all such
good friends;
~
So
savor this
image,
And when
your joy
is complete;
~
Learn the
secret of
Figs
Through
a poetic prose
treat!
~~~
😉 RL
Figs
excerpted from the poem
By D. H. Lawrence
~~~
The proper way to eat a fig, in society,
Is to split it in four, holding it by the stump,
And open it, so that it is a glittering, rosy, moist, honied,
heavy-petalled four-petalled flower.
Then you throw away the skin
Which is just like a four-sepalled calyx,
After you have taken off the blossom with your lips.
But the vulgar way
Is just to put your mouth to the crack,
and take out the flesh in one bite.
Every fruit has its secret.
The fig is a very secretive fruit.
As you see it standing growing,
you feel at once it is symbolic:
And it seems male.
But when you come to know it better,
you agree with the Romans,
it is female.
The Italians vulgarly say, it stands for
the female part; the fig-fruit:
The fissure, the yoni,
The wonderful moist conductivity
towards the centre.
Involved,
Inturned,
The flowering all inward and womb-fibrilled;
And but one orifice.
The fig, the horse-shoe, the squash-blossom.
Symbols.
There was a flower that flowered inward, womb-ward;
Now there is a fruit like a ripe womb.
It was always a secret.
That’s how it should be,
the female
should always be
secret.
~~~
And for even more fascinating information about this sacred, and sultry fruit :
Will You?
Will you meet me there? Beneath the muddy surface…
Where we shed our armor..remove our masks…
Where we strip down the layers;
Where we go, willingly…
to unveil our hearts’
deepest truth.
~~~
©Robyn Lee
Please allow me to share this wonderful prose poem entitled, The Invitation, by Oriah Mountain Dreamer.
It is a favorite of mine, and challenges us all to find the inspiration, the intimacy,
the courage and the commitment to live fully, every day.
The Invitation
by Oriah
…………………………..
It doesn’t interest me
what you do for a living.
I want to know
what you ache for
and if you dare to dream
of meeting your heart’s longing.
It doesn’t interest me
how old you are.
I want to know
if you will risk
looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn’t interest me
what planets are
squaring your moon…
I want to know
if you have touched
the centre of your own sorrow
if you have been opened
by life’s betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.
I want to know
if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.
I want to know
if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you
to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us
to be careful
to be realistic
to remember the limitations
of being human.
It doesn’t interest me
if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear
the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.
I want to know
if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
“Yes.”
It doesn’t interest me
to know where you live
or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.
It doesn’t interest me
who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.
It doesn’t interest me
where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know
what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.
I want to know
if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like
the company you keep
in the empty moments.
~~~
from the book: The Invitation
© Mountain Dreaming,
published by HarperONE, San Francisco, 1999 All rights reserved
THROUGH THE HEALING LENS 
