Tag Archives: sitting

167: Orchard

167 orchard mf mensatic

Sit, come sit, come sit awhile, on tender grass and true. Feel softness bite gently into your thighs from still stone and muddy moss. Picnic here and ponder apples and what forces them to fall, munch them, spit the pips, crunch the peel, savour the green and let the juice run freely inside and out, throat sandwiched between rivulets of life’s nectar. Here no-one is watching, no-one is judging the neatness of your knees, the correctness of your posture, the perfection of your pores, simply sit and eat, ferment in the sunny haze like cider, becoming richer every minute, stewing in your own sap. Come sit, sit awhile, and think on little things. Watch the bugs and sing to snails, dream of childhood tales, of cabbages and kings.

 

© Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2016

Photo from morguefile.com

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127: Shore

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Sit here and shore up, lotus-like, suspended on the cusp of reality, on the tide-line, the meeting place. Open your eyes to the hand full of rasping grains, how many are there? A beach full of Abraham’s descendants, a palm crossed in gold. Hold and desist from your counting, your measuring, your feeble attempts to understand. Simply let go and settle as the sand flows through your fingers, knowing everything that floats here to you on the waves is gifted. Everything is welcome, for a lifetime or a moment, each piece of jetsam has its place and purpose. Sit with open hands, lifted, open mind, waiting, open heart, ready to receive.

Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2015