(Angry) Chair Pose

Whenever I feel like I want to write something inspiring the poison darts come in.  I call them poison darts because my life seems to operate both at warp speed and in slow motion simultaneously.  I know that might not make sense but I bet it does.  The poison darts are things like: cover letters, budgets, billing, broken vacuums, dusty vents, leaky toilets…you get the idea.  My aunt whom I love and respect as a person and mom once told me, “The days are long but the years fly by!” 

It would be hard to pinpoint which event in my current state of existence is most “blogworthy.”  Which crazy thing can I relate to my cohorts that will allow them to leave feeling good?  If I can’t be a good example I can be a horrendous warning!  Who said that? 

This reminds me of a poem I scratched on the back of an envelope after a particularly intense yoga class taught by Marcia Cline at the Ashtanga Studio in Nags Head several years ago.  Or was it several hundred years ago?  Let me see if it’s still in the archives…

All I can say is after 8 straight days of yoga and 3 days of Anne’s cleanse (I told you I was scared to go to her class on Thursday) I am hoping I can be in “chair pose” without thinking about Layne Staley and his “Angry Chair” lyrics,

“Sitting on an angry chair 

Angry walls that steal the air 

Stomach hurts and I don't care 

What do I see across the way, hey 

See myself molded in clay, oh 

Stares at me, yeah I'm afraid, hey 

Changing the shape of his face, ah yeah”

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Here is my poem.  And that is quite enough for today.

A Thousand Little Darts

Friday, May 8, 2009 at 12:30pm

A thousand little darts

thrown at me every day

Each one laden with the poison lie

that I am not worthy.

Why should they decide?

And why do I care that they try?

Wounded and bleeding

from the thousand pricks under my skin

I say “heal me” looking up 

only to see storm clouds brewing. 

Then I sit quietly

and look within,

there are no marks

there is no judgment.

There is only love,

peace, grace, & authenticity.

Now I see.

There is God living in my heart!

Reminding me with every beat

that I am whole. 

Inside I carry the shield

against all that bombards me.

In spite of those poisonous darts screaming

“You are not worthy!”

The sound of their wicked song fades

and now I only hear a bird

rejoicing in the day and grateful

for the coming rain.

~Whitney Evans