Tuesday, 14 April 2015

Pause - Ponder - Proceed


Pause: lovely word, funny word -
(Nice onomatopoeic.)
So much nicer than 'Stop!'
(Nasty onompatopoeic.)
It's not 'fix',
Nor 'hold',
Nor 'inhibit',
But just 'pause' in what I am doing.
A gentle 'Musical Statues', or 'Grandmother's Footsteps'….
Showing 'I'm alive and playing, but just not moving….

Sometimes it's called 'The Zero Point' - the space between….

Between what?


When Paused I can...

Ponder: On what?
On what the doing was.
How the stuff is going for me.
Whether I really desire the desired.
Whether I've made it all up.
Whether I'm flowing or stuck.
Whether the thing is doing its thing as I planned….

Ponder on being a being,
Which I had forgotten was happening
As I did the doing.

So, in my Pausing and Pondering…
I wake up.
I come to.
I Am.

I have a kinaesthetic Ponder too -
My tight heck.
My shallow breath.
My braced knees.
My slumped tum.

How did they creep up on me?
I missed that!
But they did.
So I let go -
And expand -
Easing the tightenings,
Lengthening the collapse.

Now I move. I….

Proceed: Where?
Or back.
Or not.
Or over there.
Or up.
Or down.
It depends on what I Pondered in the Pause.
But now awake, I make a Now choice,
And so my Proceeding is fresh,

I've changed something right inside me
Where I can make secret, personal, change...
And I can expand,
Up from down and down from up,
Side to side and side from side,
Front to back and back to front.

A long, open, wide, deep me
Will enjoy whatever the wherever-ing.
A short, tight, compressed me,

So I take the Pause and the Ponder,
And let the Proceed begin within -
I go from where it begins inside,
Flowing from centre to goal.

And soon again I Pause - still moving,
Greeting the Ponder in the space it makes,
And see Proceed flow out as gold...

Saturday, 11 April 2015

The Space Between….

I was told to rigidly stick to the notes….
But you can't make music if you stick to the notes.

Stuck to the notes, they stagger and fall,
Too heavy to fly and flow.

The music withers,
And dies.

And the hands and arms, from finger-tip up,
Shrivel and shrink with the shoulders and back,
Or fall in pieces on the keys.

Self-revelation -
To be carried on the composer's skilled gift -
Whimpers, cries,
And evaporates.

The space between player and music
Was un-traversable.

'I told you, stick to the notes - see, when you don't, you fail.'

No, sticking to the notes failed us all -
The music and me and you.
The spaces between them will never fail us;
They are the greatest gift of all -
They are the place where we play.

Friday, 10 April 2015


You come in pain.
There's a rigidity in your body -
A holding -
A guarding -
A suppressed panic -
Your body seems to say, "What if…?"

What if what?
"What if I'm wrong?
What if nothing will change -
And I feel like this for ever -
Or worse, it worsens…?"

"I've been told…."
"I've got to…."
"I must…"

Yet, companioning you in that place,
Witnessing you just as you are -
No pushing, no pulling -
Listening touch asking you to witness yourself just as you are,
Brings a gradual softening.

"Shall I put my hips here?"
No, let them be.

45 seconds they say -
45 seconds is all the time it takes before something in the body changes -
An emotion - a tightening - a panic - a clenching.
Yet we run from all these feelings into new ones,
Long before the 45 seconds passes - and why not;
They're horrible feelings, they are,
And no one has ever stayed with you,
Said you are human in these feelings and sensations.

"Should I do this with my head?"
No, let it be.

No one has ever stayed with you,
Preferring to change you rather than feel your discomfort.
No one has listened with you to your clenched panic,
For as along as it takes,
Until now.

"Should I push my knees back here?"
No, let them be.

And witnessed - not judged -
Audienced - not criticised -
The experience changes.

Supported by quiet hands
Space appears -
Possibilities surface -
A clarity stirs.

'Do this' and 'Don't do that',
'Lift here' and 'relax there', all irrelevant;
Your body knows what to do, where to flow…
And now we hear it speak its truth.

So much correctional instruction in the past -
'Make the body behave!'

Oh bless it, and bless you….
No, no, no….
Come, rest under my hands,
Sense the wisdom in your body,
Feel the waves quieten,

"So, I just stand here? Resting on my feet ? My head on top?"

Wondrous you,
Just lost under all those should-ed shoulds.

Come out, come out;  you're too fine to be hidden thus.
Gradually come free,
Gently shine,

Thursday, 2 April 2015

Trying to let go...

"My body felt tight, so I was trying to let go….
Trying not to tighten…."

Those words make for an interesting ponder:

Trying is effort, struggle, hard, keen, oppressive, sticky, severe, exacting….
Trying includes what if I don't?
What if I can't?
I can, I can…. I must….. I will…
I really, really will…

Not to: a negative….
No, mustn't, can't, shouldn't, don't, oughtn't, disobedient….
Try not to...

Tighten - hold, fix, suppress, fix, rigidify, set, harden, clench, contract, pinch, squeeze,…
Try not to be tight.

Trying to let go = I must be exact, struggle, and mustn't clench….

What does that do for you?

Oxymorons are sticky,
And 'Trying to let go' is very sticky.

I tighten.
Or I don't tighten.

Trying is a doing.
Letting go is a non-doing.

'Try' and 'not to' can never be bedfellows….

I notice my tightening and I allow it to be there;
What we resist, persists.
When I allow it to be there, I instantly experience my allowing
As softening….
Tightening melting.

My teaching is about allowing,
The Yes.

We cannot fight our way to freedom;
We are the verb we are using in the moment -
If I fight, I am fight.
If I tighten, I am tight.
If I soften, I am soft.
If I let go, I am release.

I cannot fight my way to softness.
I cannot struggle my way to freedom.
I cannot mustn't my way to permission.
I cannot try my way to release.

I can only soften my way to freedom through my own permission.

So I notice tightening,
And I say Yes.
Heard, the tightening softens.
No negatives, no blame, no shame.
Just me.
Not trying.