Posts tagged Duality
Dominique Larntz * June 7, 2012
I was walking down steep dirt in the desert
with the same hurt hip that visits daily
in my forties, and each next step became
the uncertain place that pain makes
its bed frame since the accident.
For a few steps, I relied exclusively on the right,
placing my left only momentarily where I knew
its sole would not slide amongst altitude’s tiny granules,
and landed gracelessly with several hard gaits on its companion.
There’s a shooting pain in this sort of imbalance
that no poem can soothe, because it is outside the words
and inside the music of movement in the space
surrounding what I call myself and my body.
I stopped moving halfway down that hill
and I started to meditate instead of hike.
I took my eyes from the bottom of the crest
and focused on the rock right in front of me.
I changed my mind’s calculation
from counting the steps to get to my car
to noticing that I am in this step.
I told my left hip, I am here for you now.
I sustained a simple, humble change
of awareness in each step,
and the pain dissolved quickly
in an unexpected surprise.
Surprise because I was just
trying to finish the walk without falling down
and I had no eyes for easy steps
where each side supported the other.
Wherever else uncertain,
I am sure to take this walk again,
and I may not always find such easy relief,
but I can dig my heel firmly into faith
in the restoration of balance
over an uneasy terrain.
(With kudos to Thich Nhat Hanh For his Walking Meditation which inspired my walking meditation today.)
Dominique Larntz * May 23, 2012
What do I fight for?
Yesterday I heard
a news broadcast
and my body responded–
arched blood pressure
and clenched muscles.
I am self-aware
enough now to feel it
and that is something
spectacular to me.
Previously, I just ignored
my physiological response,
played the part, did my job,
assignments, projects, tasks,
and one could say my blood,
my body, was automated,
programmed to pretend
to ignore itself.
I am slow and mellow,
in a fast world.
In a fast world,
messages arrive in bulk
and slow processors
and when we say stop
stop stop stop and stop
we are told we
and before we
can process that
we are usually
Fast world, what would
the headline read
if you stopped
and accepted me
just as I am?
Dominique Larntz * January 31, 2012 * “Love Letters To My Body”
Simple Book Binding
Holes are made in the spine.
Push the point through
the outside of the fold
in the center hole
and then pull it inside through
to the top and count
the number of times
you have dreamed
of riding in a car with no driver
or of protecting others
from a mad killer on the loose.
Next tighten the thread
and pull the needle
through the center hole again.
Now push it into the bottom
and note the waking moments
when you screamed at a child
too near an electrical outlet
instead of picking her up
or covering up the plug;
or when you dated a boy
just to go to a spa and get
a 2-hour hot stone massage
knowing you didn’t like him.
Pull the thread back to the center
and knot the two ends together.
This is the simplest way
to bind a book.
Dominique Larntz * January 14, 2012 * “Love Letters To My Body”
I am walking uphill on my high
desert winter stroll,
hardly noticing it.
Just as this desert willow
has no idea whether I am
ugly or beautiful,
successful or abysmal,
vain or humble,
violent or kind,
female or male,
if I have a diversified portfolio
or if I have given away my last penny,
I can hardly grasp things about its life,
such as if trees have statuses.
Do they think the redwood
is more evolved than bamboo?
For that matter, is it possible
planted life perceives moving,
mammalian life as less evolved
since we decay back into soil
in an old tree’s time frame–
become plant food?
For now, though, I touch the trunk
of the desert willow on my path,
and we meet, both alive.
No matter what we perceive or call it,
we share in experiencing life and death,
and we complement one another in breath.