Pure Haiku

Thanks to Pure Haiku for choosing a couple of my poems to post for the “Care” series.

Child’s disappointment when she learns that a flower wilts without water © Rebecca Trimble-Paul 2017 Rebecca says of herself “I am moved by nature, I write mindfully, and find endless inspiration in the world and people around me.” Please check out her blog at Thinking Of Now This senyru shows such a clear picture of the […]

via 1 – 26 — purehaiku

Meditation on Time

I looked at my favourite plant in the living room tonight and suddenly saw it as a tree.  Colourful cubbies holding toys would be gone and the tree would have all the light I wish it could have now.  Nights of staying up late to greedily grab as many moments for myself as I could would be gone.

One day my babies will need me in different ways – ways that will feel to me like not being needed at all.

Time will once again be mine and I won’t know what to do with it.



Meditation on the Lives that Never Were

You put your faith in nature

but for reasons unknown to you and me

they say it wasn’t meant to be —-

hollow words lay unsettled in hollow wombs.

Unworn onesies, unsong songs.

And so you go on —

you live, you love, you create.

You are a part of the cycle in ways larger than you think possible.

Though you still long to hold a little hand,

your hand is held

as the universe moves you along,

promising to show you the way.


Meditation With Small, Soft Hands

I held my kids’ hands yesterday evening as we sat around the table breathing into our ritual.  Before dinner each night, we pause and take a moment to settle.  The daily movement of coming in from school and work, walking the dog, putting away lunch kit paraphernalia, getting snacks, cleaning up after snacks, supervising play dates, making dinner, updating the calendar, and planning for the evening activities can easily sweep me out of the moment and into “perfect mom” zone.  That strange place where I forget the depth of my soul and convince myself I’m only a good mom if I make the best birthday cake ever for the upcoming celebration or a dinner that will knock everyone’s socks off.  In the moment of peaceful calm as we quietly join hands, I can come back to myself.  Meal on the table and food untouched, we close our eyes, and everything stops.

We breathe.

We bring ourselves back to the moment.

Last night as we sat together, I felt the beautiful soft skin on my little ones’ hands and I could have wept.  I instantly reconnected with their little souls – the magic with which they sprang from my womb, my unbelievably good fortune that I get to be with them on my journey.  I was entirely swallowed up by the beauty, the naivety, the trust in their little hands as they held mine.  The lump in my throat spread to my chest and only the deepest breaths grounded it and brought it back to gratitude that I carry with me wherever I go.



Meditation on Water

I knew I needed some quiet time today.

Life has been full lately and I’ve been swept up in the waves.  This morning I remembered how I want to carry myself:  gently.  Like a bowl of water.  If I’m running around without stopping, the water will churn and spill.  Handled mindfully though, the water can be clear and still.

I remembered that I’m made of so much water; I looked to the biggest part of myself for guidance.  I remembered that the top of  the sea can look wild but the current moves confidently, slowly and with purpose deep below the waves.

So too can it be with us.

We are not our schedules.  We’re not defined by how busy we are, what we do for a living, what kind of a car we drive, how many activities our kids are signed up for …..

The truest part of me is beneath all of that.  It is moving slowly and with purpose and sometimes when I look very deep within myself, it is still.




Back to the Sun

I meditated with my back to the sun today.  I did this as an intentional prayer to those living in the dark.  I did it to show my gratitude for the moments that hurt us the most because those moments build our strength in a way that no amount of running or weightlifting ever could.

Admittedly, it’s easier to be grateful for the sun – and oftentimes gratitude for darkness doesn’t come until the struggle has passed and retrospection provides insight.  Nonetheless, the gratitude inevitably comes.  Maybe one day you look out and see just the reflection of light.  Eventually you’ll remember you can turn your face and feel its warmth.

The sickness in the dark is when it feels as though that’s all there will ever be.  My prayer today is for those trapped in the sick dark.  That we might be able to hold on for when the struggle becomes hindsight which blessedly brings sweet gratitude.





Root Beer Float Meditation

I meditated with my baby today.  Okay, she’s nearly 7 but the number will always be irrelevant to her being my baby.

She pulled up a cushion beside mine and we lit candles, sounded our singing bowl, and settled in.  The feeling of joy that bubbled up inside of me was magical.  Pure joy, pure gratitude for a moment of contemplation with my beautiful daughter.  It was like foam on top of a root beer float – the joy bubbling out of me, overflowing into the world – unable to be contained even if I wanted it to be.  Which I didn’t. This is what I can share with the world every day.  This overwhelming sense of gratitude, of joy.  If I can walk with that every day and bring that to every interaction, my duty is done, my purpose is fulfilled.

She attempted to stifle a yawn that ended with a guttural gurgle.  We opened our eyes to peek at each other and giggle.  Eyes closed again, I visualized a blanket wrapped around us, keeping in the warm, peaceful, safe feeling.  Oh that I could give that to my daughter to carry every day.  In all of her interactions.  Even with the blanket around us in my mind, the peaceful root beer foam bubbled over … it would touch the others in our house, on our street, at her school, in my office …. this is what we can do.

I opened my eyes again to take her in – to observe her in the candlelight.  She’s beautiful of course but the most precious thing in that moment was watching her sit peacefully with her eyes closed.  No device, no TV, no peer group … this girl of mine can sit!  We’ll both carry those quiet peaceful happy moments with us throughout the day.  And that is our service to the world we love.

In gratitude. xo