Darcy R
Location: Seattle, Washington, United States
Traditions: Buddhism, Humanism, Universal Ethics, Nature
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Darcy R's Wisdom Page

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I am neither especially clever nor especially gifted. I am only very, very curious. -Albert Einstein

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do over
The earth breaks to let new life through.state your needscreate spacebreathetrust

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Divorce
Dipped in tar I simply dangle-no where to runno where to hide.The world sees me as they have painted me.I will be scarred,only as I see the scars.Dipped in tar,the pain seeping into the bonesI once stood on for balance.Helplessness the tar.Anxiety the air.the rope holding me there,society. Flame, one’s breath waiting for you to catch fire... if you just exhaled.So easy to give up, be consumed.An exhale, a kind of freedom.To change this paradigm.  One must, in order to survive.Dipped in tar I simply dangle-no where to runno where to hide.Care about people's approvaland you will be their prisoner.I am not responsible for the story others paint of my life.I am not responsible for explaining the story others paint.I am not responsible for anything other then my own story.I will still survive.  Can you coax your mind from its wanderingand keep to the original oneness?Can you let your body becomesupple as a newborn child's?Can you cleanse your inner visionuntil you see nothing but the light?Can you love people and lead themwithout imposing your will?Can you deal with the most vital mattersby letting events take their course?Can you step back from you own mindand thus understand all things?Giving birth and nourishing,having without possessing,acting with no expectations,leading and not trying to control:this is the supreme virtue.I am still here. I am still here.I am healthy and my family is well. I amstillhere.Exhale.Inhale.Exhale.I am still here.Feet on the ground.I have survived.(Lao Tzu, Tao Te Ching #10 was used within the poem)

Divorce

Dipped in tar I simply dangle-no where to runno where to hide.The world sees me as they have painted me.I will be scarred,only as I see the scars.Dipped in tar,the pain seeping into the bonesI once stood on for balance.Helplessness the tar.Anxiety the air.the rope holding me there,society. Flame, one’s breath waiting for you to catch fire... if you just exhaled.So easy to give up, be consumed.An exhale, a kind of freedom.To change this paradigm.  One must, in order to survive.Dipped in tar I simply dangle-no where to runno where to hide.Care about people's approvaland you will be their prisoner.I am not responsible for the story others paint of my life.I am not responsible for explaining the story others paint.I am not responsible for anything other then my own story.I will still survive.  Can you coax your mind from its wanderingand keep to the original oneness?Can you let your body becomesupple as a newborn child's?Can you cleanse your inner visionuntil you see nothing but the light?Can you love people and lead themwithout imposing your will?Can you deal with the most vital mattersby letting events take their course?Can you step back from you own mindand thus understand all things?Giving birth and nourishing,having without possessing,acting with no expectations,leading and not trying to control:this is the supreme virtue.I am still here. I am still here.I am healthy and my family is well. I amstillhere.Exhale.Inhale.Exhale.I am still here.Feet on the ground.I have survived.(Lao Tzu, Tao Te Ching #10 was used within the poem)

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Transition
Caught between brancheshanging-awaiting the ground.Eyes wide open,control out of reach.The crash of the waves,wind in my hair, lightening --showing me glimpse of my future below.Looking back I see so much.If only I had if only I’d if only I’d not ---I’d still be standing, two feet on the ground.Now-only the elementshave controlover wherei land.I amcaught between branchesloved by nothing but the ideas I’ve imagined.I am a particle of dustof many born from oneand will return to the grass that grows.Caught between brancheshanging-waiting to crash to the ground.Eyes wide openyet control out of reach.I relinquish And for onceI am okI will surviveI want to fall free of the world abovewhere I’ve come from.Held so highly by the minds-I’ve imagined.I am intimately aware of my weight pressed into the tree,my skin, my blood, my tears.I am intimately aware that I am alive. I am alive.7/31/11

Transition

Caught between brancheshanging-awaiting the ground.Eyes wide open,control out of reach.The crash of the waves,wind in my hair, lightening --showing me glimpse of my future below.Looking back I see so much.If only I had if only I’d if only I’d not ---I’d still be standing, two feet on the ground.Now-only the elementshave controlover wherei land.I amcaught between branchesloved by nothing but the ideas I’ve imagined.I am a particle of dustof many born from oneand will return to the grass that grows.Caught between brancheshanging-waiting to crash to the ground.Eyes wide openyet control out of reach.I relinquish And for onceI am okI will surviveI want to fall free of the world abovewhere I’ve come from.Held so highly by the minds-I’ve imagined.I am intimately aware of my weight pressed into the tree,my skin, my blood, my tears.I am intimately aware that I am alive. I am alive.7/31/11

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Here I am

Feet on the ground,the world hangs--long hair holds tears.A new placeborn of old patterns,unable to stop the birth.Black slivers of glass,damp chill pulling  -shadows that cling,the smell of dawn,the familiardissipated.A hollow scream,oxygen void.Her eyes raisealive, hungry,a power awoken.The smile creeps across her face-she is not afraid,to be here,alone.Be.Grow.The woman.Feet on the ground,A new placeblood of the child- the placenta,underfoot,damp chill pulling  -shadows that cling,the familiar dissipated.The woman's heartblood coursingthe woman's lungsOxygen rich.The woman's eyesalive, hungry, and yet she just standsunable to move.Long hair holds her.Save me she mouths,save me from myself...And yet no one can.No one will.She is alone,in a world,born of the patterns she was raised to call home.Tears become rivers,as determination builds.She must move.A hollow scream,oxygen void.Do not corner a predator.Fluid like water,a survivor.  Yet her body will not move.The brain stem: She will survive.Finds her heart,herself within the consistent beat.  She closes her eyes to the sharp the chill, she finds that one hand is holding her, the other hangs, relaxed.This is who she is.Breathbecause she can.because she wants to.This is who she is.She is the most beautiful thingshe has ever seen.A lace curtain blowing in the windthe mystery of sensualityA bench upon an empty hill sidethe random acts of kindness a flower broken through the sidewalkthe power of perseverance. She is the most amazing creature she’s ever touched.A slow stream of tempid water,The touch of a lovers lips,The freedom of falling backwards.Her hands move slowly over her damp flesh, as if for the first time.the greater wing of the sphenoid,  the subclavius,the sternum’s body,She holds her breath and looks up-afraid to share herself with an onlooker.Afraid they will take her away.Her exhale. Her eyes alive,She smiles,I am my own.tattooed upon her pericardium,connecting her throat to her heart to her brain.She is one.She is self.

Here I am

Feet on the ground,the world hangs--long hair holds tears.A new placeborn of old patterns,unable to stop the birth.Black slivers of glass,damp chill pulling  -shadows that cling,the smell of dawn,the familiardissipated.A hollow scream,oxygen void.Her eyes raisealive, hungry,a power awoken.The smile creeps across her face-she is not afraid,to be here,alone.Be.Grow.The woman.Feet on the ground,A new placeblood of the child- the placenta,underfoot,damp chill pulling  -shadows that cling,the familiar dissipated.The woman's heartblood coursingthe woman's lungsOxygen rich.The woman's eyesalive, hungry, and yet she just standsunable to move.Long hair holds her.Save me she mouths,save me from myself...And yet no one can.No one will.She is alone,in a world,born of the patterns she was raised to call home.Tears become rivers,as determination builds.She must move.A hollow scream,oxygen void.Do not corner a predator.Fluid like water,a survivor.  Yet her body will not move.The brain stem: She will survive.Finds her heart,herself within the consistent beat.  She closes her eyes to the sharp the chill, she finds that one hand is holding her, the other hangs, relaxed.This is who she is.Breathbecause she can.because she wants to.This is who she is.She is the most beautiful thingshe has ever seen.A lace curtain blowing in the windthe mystery of sensualityA bench upon an empty hill sidethe random acts of kindness a flower broken through the sidewalkthe power of perseverance. She is the most amazing creature she’s ever touched.A slow stream of tempid water,The touch of a lovers lips,The freedom of falling backwards.Her hands move slowly over her damp flesh, as if for the first time.the greater wing of the sphenoid,  the subclavius,the sternum’s body,She holds her breath and looks up-afraid to share herself with an onlooker.Afraid they will take her away.Her exhale. Her eyes alive,She smiles,I am my own.tattooed upon her pericardium,connecting her throat to her heart to her brain.She is one.She is self.

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Contribution #5999

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Contribution #5999


where am I
What has become of the days when time dripped from my sticky mango fingers,When books seemed like a luxuryand the world an open stage?How do you find yourselfbetween the tears of a baby,the demands of a job,the glances of a partner?Where do you start?With silance on a walk,A swim, a to do list?Do you look to role models?Those that find the time to do so much and balance it all,Those that cook, have the garden, the part time job, the project on the side,the home they love.Mabye that's where I should start.Maybe it's here, within this site that I am starting to remember that my blood flows throughout,that my breath expands, that my brain can rest, that I am myself - with needs, and dreams, and desires to act on.It is true, I love my child, my partner, my joband hate the pattern we're in.  With time, I find peace,myself.Where I am.

where am I

What has become of the days when time dripped from my sticky mango fingers,When books seemed like a luxuryand the world an open stage?How do you find yourselfbetween the tears of a baby,the demands of a job,the glances of a partner?Where do you start?With silance on a walk,A swim, a to do list?Do you look to role models?Those that find the time to do so much and balance it all,Those that cook, have the garden, the part time job, the project on the side,the home they love.Mabye that's where I should start.Maybe it's here, within this site that I am starting to remember that my blood flows throughout,that my breath expands, that my brain can rest, that I am myself - with needs, and dreams, and desires to act on.It is true, I love my child, my partner, my joband hate the pattern we're in.  With time, I find peace,myself.Where I am.

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Action
You must participate in order to become.

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The Right of Passage
She lies waiting withinswelling with breath untilshe can no longer carry.She yeilds for the birthof selfof childof ideasof patience of the deep abis of love.That tipping point, that birth,is it's own story. For some it scars, for others it laughsand some miss the whole affair altogetherbecause it was seemless or because they choose to.  But the outcome,this right of passage, this intagration, this is still present.   You are still a different womanregardless of how you birthed.And don't suspect you need a child for such an affair,for children with children are not woman.The power, unleashed, the movement of an oceangiving and taking.This Right of Passage,you are now woman.

The Right of Passage

She lies waiting withinswelling with breath untilshe can no longer carry.She yeilds for the birthof selfof childof ideasof patience of the deep abis of love.That tipping point, that birth,is it's own story. For some it scars, for others it laughsand some miss the whole affair altogetherbecause it was seemless or because they choose to.  But the outcome,this right of passage, this intagration, this is still present.   You are still a different womanregardless of how you birthed.And don't suspect you need a child for such an affair,for children with children are not woman.The power, unleashed, the movement of an oceangiving and taking.This Right of Passage,you are now woman.

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Feel the rythm of your heart, it is where you are.

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