by Aviva Rabinovici © 2010
Inside my mind
The voices in my head speak so assured,
Sometimes in whispers, sometimes loud as shouts
With smirks that hint I cannot cast them out
Insistent as the caw and screech of birds
That roost in window panes, sowing absurd
And often vicious episodes of doubt.
Ignoring them would never make them stop,
So I chose to talk back to them instead
And asked what they were doing in my head,
And if for just one moment they might drop
The constant drone and drama that they brought
To make room for some silence 'midst the dread.
I cannot claim the effort as complete.
Still, every day I try to find a pause
From countless lists, to dos, and all the claws
Of duty, that so constantly compete
For my attention-listening for the beat
Of my heart; breathing deep to find the awe.
And sometimes, like a break within the clouds,
The silence reigns supreme, and I can hear
The causes of my hope and rage and fear
That echo through the spaces I've allowed
To grow within my mind; like restless crowds
Distracted by a promise growing near.
The vigilance this brings makes me aware
Of more than quietude.
The truth, in fact,
Is that my mind is much more than the act
Of thinking.
Of more than quietude.
The truth, in fact, Is that my mind is much more than the act
Of thinking.
When its nature is laid bare,
Its wisdom and intelligence and flair
Can manifest-while calmness stays intact.
My limbs take flight
When nonce the voices stop their petty call
The music of the world can fill the void,
And suddenly, the things that once annoyed-
The passing cars, the rain, my sweat-they all
Become my practice ground.
And I stand tall
And search for the sensations I avoid:
The neck twinge, and the subtle sort of pain
That runs from my right hip and towards my knee.
Sensations that I often choose to flee,
And body images that I disdain:
My sagging boobs and belly, and the bane
Of my existence-wrinkles-all plague me.
Attention focused on my deficits
Prevents me from embracing the delight
Of how it feels when all my limbs take flight,
Of finally finding a strong hand that fits
So snuggly within mine.
When all the bits
Are disconnected, nothing can feel right.
The trick, then, is to let the judgment fade
And feel instead my heart beat, and the flow
Of blood, the muscles in my legs, the toe
Of my left foot, my stomach, and the jade
Green colour of my eyes-the things
God made-
And let the love arise, and let it show.
Our bodies are all vehicles of life.
So dance, and run, and get between the sheets.
Trail fingers through the grass.
And feel the heat
Of passion take you over.
Hug your wife,
And husband, and your children.
Give up strife.
Stand by the shore as water licks your feet.
My heart unfurls
And when at last I actually can feel
The intake of each breath, drawn through the lungs,
The chest expands, and songs once left unsung
Erupt and leave me empty as I kneel
Before the alter of the heart, head hung
And eyes closed, searching for the words that heal.
But words won't serve me now; not in this place
Where silence speaks with utmost eloquence
And prayers unformed leave messy fingerprints
Along the walls and floors.
Now I must face
The ice of rage, the grimace of disgrace,
The locked doors of my heart's magnificence.
Warring emotions battle to take hold
And oft, I must admit, to hold them back,
I keep myself apart while they attack,
Pretending to be confident and bold.
But as I age, the attitude gets old
And I'd prefer to see defenses crack.
Defenseless, yes.
That will now be my shield,
An endless stretch of vulnerability.
My heart unfurls and suddenly I see
The danger of the twin-edged sword I wield.
I rush headlong, I stumble, and I yield-
Embracing joy and pain and loss and glee.
The full range of emotions now burst forth-
Pandora's box was nothing next to this!
Yet, hidden 'neath the terror, I sense bliss.
New heights of self-acceptance and self-worth
Hold me aloft.
A magical rebirth
That calls compassion up from the abyss.
My soul alight
For ultimately, is this not the goal?
To unpack the emotions, one by one,
And stack them up beneath the setting sun
To gauge the shadows cast upon the soul?
The interplay of light and dark, the hole
That judgment made before its work was done?
Resisting the temptation to repair.
That would imply that things need to be fixed.
Yet spite and venom heedlessly are mixed
With those emotions we consider fair:
Undying love and gratitude and care.
Our only role is to look on, transfixed.
One minute to the next my thoughts arise
And cascade through my body like a shot.
My only job: to notice that they're not
A permanent condition.
That's the prize
Of noticing each swallow, blink of eyes,
The flitting, flighty feelings I once fought.
It sounds so simple, written down so stark.
Just pay attention.
Don't let your mind stray.
But all these shiny things-they have a way
Of grabbing hold and trying to leave a mark
On the blank page inside, 'til I embark
Down tangled paths that steal focus away.
Be patient then.
Keep drawing back your mind
To every passing moment.
Use your hand
To cup each precious second.
Understand
That nothing lasts forever, and you'll find
Expanses of great freedom intertwined
With fascination for each grain of sand.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
As the founder of AR Communications Inc. (a B2B copywriting company), a working mom, and a long-time yoga practitioner, Aviva understands a thing or two about balance. Her lifelong quests including finding inner peace, inspiring others, and making the perfect cup of coffee. Check out her website at www.ar-com.com or contact her at aviva@ar-com.com
