Category: haiku

Day One: Sustainability

~ Saoirse Charis-Graves ~ 2 Comments

a poem a day in the month of may
The Liminality Journal — Kaitlin Curtice

It’s the little bits.
Sustain-ability is
done in small, slow steps.

Having turned 71 last month, I’ve been focussed on “a year of healthy living.” I’m not counting steps or calories. I do not own a scale for checking my weight. I’m not looking at macros or banning carbs. (My system, however, does not tolerate dairy or gluten.)

I do check the pedometer on my Apple Watch but not because I’ve set a goal for a certain number of steps. It’s more like checking my pulse. More a question for me to monitor: How am I doing with movement so far today?

I am also keeping a food journal. Time of day, general description of what I’ve consumed, precipitating event, sensations in my body, thoughts, feelings. Not attempting to change anything. Just noticing what’s happening and look for patterns. I’ve discovered much of my eating is unconscious, without actually tasting or enjoying the food. And that’s something I aim to change, as my intention for healthy living is to enjoy the food I eat and feel good afterwards. 

I’m also logging other health factors, mainly because I want to support my body in living a good life over the next few years … because I’ve finally learned that caring for myself matters … because I’ve finally learned I am worthy of love, no matter what. 

It seems that caring about myself in these small moments of movement and savoring my food and supporting my body are part of living well. Of loving myself well. Now and in the time to come.

Fluffy snow & singing birds

~ Saoirse Charis-Graves ~ 1 Comment

I’ve been wandering this morning. In and through and around words, thoughts, imaginings.

There’s a part of me that is feeling dreamy, not unmoored but also not anchored. I feel drawn to many things … a book, a blog, a podcast, a poem, a list of unfinished tasks, the promise of time spent making art …

We had a snowstorm last night. I was outside, walking back from our early morning meditation in another building, seeing neighbors scooping up snow. While I am always appreciative of the labor of my neighbors in clearing snow from our pathways, I noticed the ease with which they were tossing the snow up into central piles. This was not wet, heavy snow but rather light and fluffy. As I took all of that in, I heard a bird singing in a nearby tree.

Fluffy snow and singing birds. There might be a haiku in that. We’ll see.

I notice in the midst of the wandering, I feel happy. Light, like the fluffy snow. Joyful, like the singing bird. My heart feels both peaceful and jubilant.

Sometimes, I imagine peace as the cessation of anxiety. Calm in the midst of worry. Today, I think peace is this moment.

Snowflakes fall slowly,
Drifting onto fluffy piles,
Nearby, a bird sings.