Nostalgia is my favorite mindfulness practice.
That horseshit of time being such a great
Healer of wounds
When the time travel of nostalgia reveals
Swelling we hope never goes down
Solace of a tingly scar we find hidden in the senses
The passing of time reduced to the first
Moment of silence
Prelude to connection
The intake of breath before the confession,
I don’t want this healed. Ever.
When we learn to meditate we are taught
To let thoughts wander into the mind
And then let them wander out
Resisting the urge to latch on to
Any one of them.
No rumination. No reaction.
Let it flow through and away.
The mind rests this way
And returns to balance.
Meditation says let it in and let it out.
Let it be.
Mindfulness says hold each other
And fatten. Tip the balance.
Find the dank/murk/funk
Right where you left it and it still tastes the same.
Permission to be completely engaged
Fully immersed, saturated with experience
Feeling flush with all the things
We were supposed to have healed by now.
This is the sweetest application of mindfulness
We’re allowed to get lost in it
Get down with it
To sponge it, embody it,
Catch and release and catch again
And only when something deep in the soul
Is regenerated do we let it go
Primed then for some proper meditation
Or improper poetry.
Last night I watched a baseball game on television
and thought how much I don’t miss California.
This morning I woke to indulge in music therapy
and realized how much I miss California.
It makes a freckled body want to call her brother.
And brood upon how good and right is to be
Where we are now, and yet ever
Mindful of how well California seasoned us
To appreciate it.
It makes a sullied mind remember how we were tiny
Little gods. We thought words in books said
Different things while the covers are closed
And we made them all line up again
By reading them.
Nostalgia is my favorite mindfulness practice.
Love this. Can I share it on FB?
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You are adorable. Is FB still a thing?
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