Hi,
I'm Ashley Anguanta and I'm so happy to be your guide.
I want to open by saying you may be experiencing difficulty being rested,
Calm and centered and I'm sending you compassion.
You're not alone.
Thank you for being here.
And if it helps,
Think of me as a background guide.
Your wisdom is already within you.
I'm simply helping you find it.
So what makes a poem a good companion for centering,
For calming and for resting?
Poetry that is comforting,
Like a friend who says,
Rest your head on my lap as you watch the ocean.
Poetry that holds you with tenderness,
Like a warm breeze atop a mountain.
Poetry that also says,
I believe in your ability to soothe yourself.
I wrote these poems with the intention to soothe.
May they serve you well as you rest.
May these poems serve you wherever you are in life.
I hope as you listen to these poems,
You'll stay with your breath,
Simply allowing it to be comfortable in your body.
All but one of these poems do not have titles.
So I'll pause in between each one.
And I encourage you to hold the silence,
The space as an opportunity to stay with your breath.
And the poetry begins now.
My teacher says to start small.
So I bring my mind to the grasshopper,
Neon orange and climbing through the sawgrass.
And then I understand that is beautiful,
But not small enough.
So I bring my mind to its tiny feet,
Padding each piece of sawgrass.
And yes,
That is graceful and light,
But not small enough either.
So I think of the grasshopper breathing.
Its tiny breath that must feel so big to it sometimes.
In the beginning,
My grandma's house was built brick by brick.
And as time passed,
The snails came and they lived in the spaces between each brick.
And then the cat walked into our lives.
And the dogs went in and out.
Later in my life,
I met a woman who played the drums.
She taught me about creating with dirt and seeds.
Her cats worked beside us,
Much like the farm dog who watched over me a long time ago.
Thank you for the food you helped give me.
Thank you for opening me up to sustenance,
Connection,
Our inherent worth.
I am learning what love is slowly.
The flowers of my body celebrating.
Cucumbers,
Fresh and ready for dinner.
Birdseed in the grass.
Love can never be hidden like a book in the library of a tree trunk.
You wear it warmly invisible.
Love is a rescuer saying,
I understand.
When love is here,
The flowers of my body open.
Patience.
The groundhog says spring will come soon.
I wish I could see this for myself when I walk in the marsh waiting for a photograph to find me.
The sunset is past its peak for pictures.
And winter has,
As it always does,
Taken the land's colors.
I have been waiting for a photograph for my whole life.
And when the daffodils arrive so quickly,
As I turn the corner,
I learn.
There will be more than one moment when God's hand will catch me.
And this is not the first.
And there is no such thing as the last.
What the landscape taught me.
Don't push.
The tomatoes you gathered were just enough for the week.
And the hill you climbed gave you what you needed.
A strength you will open to again and again with the help of stillness,
With the help of listening.
That was the last poem for this reading.
Simply notice how you feel and allow any feelings of calm,
Peace,
And comfort to be.
Now I invite you to place one hand on your heart and one hand on your abdomen.
Notice what it feels like to be held this way.
Simply be.
May you rest well.
