Meditation (with kitten)

Quiet time has changed. It may never be the same.

She loves the older cat’s tail.

She loves the possibility

Of my coffee cup.

She loves getting stuck in places

She cannot get out of.

She climbs on me

The older cat watches

A glint of amusement

In his eye.

No

It is not time for a nap.

No.

Not yet.

No.

Maybe not ever.

Oh

There’s the tail.

She forgot.

I watch,

A glint of amusement

In my eye.

His turn.

Cure

Since my seizure experience following yoga, I have been doing some research.  It seems meditation triggers seizures in some folk.  Really?  Of course, why would this surprise me?

Meditation

Will not cure everything

That ails you.

Like yoga

It may send you spinning

Into places

Unintended.

Every time we play

With consciousness

We may find ourselves

Somewhere else.

Meditation

Is not the cure-all.

Yoga

Is not the cure-all.

Nothing

Cures everything.

One size

Does not fit all,

Does not cure all,

Does not heal all.

Just when we think

We've found the answer

We find we need

Something else

Entirely.

Singing bowl

Morning meditation.  Glad for it.

I watch the early morning sun

Through still green leaves,

Doors open to hear the birds,

I hear lawnmowers instead.

I find my finger circling

The top of my dinosaur coffee mug,

Realize almost anything

Can be a singing bowl,

Faint singing

But singing nonetheless.

Now I hear the birds

Under the sound

Of the lawnmower.

Compact in the sun

It has been years since I have lived with a dog.  Still... I remember dogs asleep in the sun, sprawled to catch every ray.  The cat, at least my cat, does not sprawl.  Instead he sits... content, compact, a meditation in himself.

The cat

Compact in the sun

Eyes slit

Paws curled under

The picture of peace

In the one patch

Of living room sun

A meditation

In himself.

This is unlike

Sprawled

Dog meditation.

The cat

Compact in the sun

Shows a different

Sort of peace,

Intensely one

With himself.