Climbing Meg’s Mountain
Click for meditationRegarding "Climbing Meg’s Mountain"
This poem was written
Less than 12 months after I had joined
A new health club in the town where I lived, and
It also coincided with a period in my life
When I was in need of rejuvenation. I found myself
Taking part in my first-ever, spinning ‘Pedal to End Cancer’
Fundraiser. The lead instructor for the three hour
Ride was a whirling dervish, who took us on
A very intensive, cardio-demanding,
Simulated mountain climb, all to the
Pulsating sounds and cadence of great music. For
One straight hour she pounded us with
An endless barrage of merciless
Spinning commands and exhortations,
Which appeared to have no end to them…
She seemed oblivious to any and all
Difficulties we had keeping up with her!
It was our job to do what we had
To do! As part of completing that
Strenuous, wild ride, I was also
Reminded of the tremendous challenges
Occurring in the lives of other people,
Particularly with respect to cancer. And so
Today, right now, I look back with so
Much gratitude to that first ‘Pedal to End
Cancer’ experience, and I thank that
Spinning instructor for helping to lift me up
Out of myself, and for enabling me to
See that if cancer survivors could endure
Years, even decades, of debilitating
Treatment just to live one more day, then
I could do a mere three hour ride, and I could
Express gratitude for what I had received
As blessings in my life.
Leo Carroll
March 5, 2019
“Pump it!…, Push it!…”
“Keep back in your saddle!…”
“Keep your peddle strokes
Even and smooth!…”
“We’re going to do ‘jumps’
To the count of two – – up!…, up!…, up!…”
“We have a double chorus!!!…”
“Slide!…, Slide!…, Slide!…”
“Down to hand position three!…”
“Keep your elbows loose and relaxed,
And tucked into your body!…”
“Back in lohhhhwww!!!…”
“Keep working, keep working!…,
Watch your cadence!…”
.
.
.
…And thus on and on and without mercy, her
Commands continue and cascade and escalate, one upon the other,
Relentless, unyielding, pounding, driving me into the ground, and I know on this
Sunday morning that any mountain, this mountain, can be climbed
With the exhortation and aid of this endless
Fusillade from a ponytailed woman in the female form of an
Absolutely whirling tornado, and all I have
To do is “pump it”, and any doubt and despair can
Be conquered by my spinning flywheel, and cancer can
Inexorably be crushed and tossed into the fathomless dustbin
With its twin gargoyles of terror and fear.
In Repose along an Old Stone Wall
Click for meditationRegarding "In Repose along an Old Stone Wall"
Sometimes
It does not take physical
Might to make
You feel safe. It can
Simply take the
Form of confidence in
Something Greater
Than you are,
Like an inviting yet
Sturdy,
Colonial-era
Stone wall…
And a tiny bird
Which has
Been singing for
Millennia…
Leo Carroll
April 17, 2018
I slept
The sleep of beauty rest,
Against the rough-hewn
Pillows of a stone wall’s bed.
Shut my eyes were, as if
In blessed Gethsemane, and open
Them I verily could not —
So relied upon a lone chickadee
In a nearby spruce tree
As sentry.
Doing a ‘Standing Climb’ up the Mountain of Hope
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What exhilaration and
Jubilation when I first started doing
Spinning classes! It was as
If I had climbed a mountain and
Was looking down upon
All that was good and pure in human
Nature and its connections…
The people I met in
Spinning class were
Remarkable, and their
Energy and enthusiasm
Were contagious.
I couldn’t believe how
Happy I felt when spinning, and,
To this day, the euphoria
Of spinning is a metaphor
For the good things
Along my life’s journey.
In the poem, the
Imagery is of standing
Up on the pedals
With the hands forward
On the top of the handlebars,
And of climbing a steep
Mountain trail or grade – a
Very difficult task, unless
You have hope and
Confidence and the
Support of those cycling
Around you…
Leo Carroll
April 25, 2018
Lifted up I am, resurrected,
By the spiral of a spinning flywheel.
Circular in shape, its chrome
Whirs and whirs, as if its
Metal was flesh and
Its flesh was real. It
Carries me nowhere, but
Mystically everywhere, on the
Stationary magic carpet of
My deepest hopes and dreams,
And there, there, once
There like a kite I climb,
And can only be caught by the
Whoosh of a steep grade’s
Mountain breeze.
Coming into ‘Warrior One’ Position
Click for meditationRegarding "Coming into ‘Warrior One’ Position"
On the day of this
Poem, I realized that yoga
Was a great, universal equalizer
And communicator
Amongst peoples.
As I moved from yoga
Pose to yoga pose,
I became cognizant of the
Different shades and
Hues of all the bare feet
Which were constantly
Shifting in position before my eyes
On the wooden floor,
And which were mixing
With the sweat of
Past yoga classes in a
Combined genuflection to
The common mother
We all shared…
The clay of humankind
Was at work right
In front of me,
And the sole goal
Of this amalgam
Of flesh was to find
Peace in this little niche
Of heaven with the
Door quietly closed against
The distractions of the
Outside world.
All it took was to
Breathe, to concentrate
In the present
Moment with the
Instructor’s gentle
Commands, to do
My best, to seek balance
In my movements,
And to know that
I was not being judged,
But just seeking a
Better way to be alive.
Leo Carroll
May 3, 2018
Up to Warrior One from
Downward Facing Dog I come,
Struggling with my footing,
In movements slow and stiff and
Cumbersome. Up, up, finally I
Right myself into this pose,
With my arms reaching for the
Heavens, as if in entreating
Praise to some Unknown.
But in that last, fleeting
Second before I reached
Myself so skyward, my
Eyes still were locked
To earth, and in that
Timeless instant were
Imprinted like a child’s.
For in a glance across the
Wooden floor, I saw a wide
Swath of anonymous feet of all
Shapes and hues, and this
Amalgam of flesh shouted out,
“This is what I show you,
And it is yoga’s universal,
Common good and truth…!”
And in that one sentence, I
Realized how humanity’s clay
Could be divine…and I
Knew my arms reached up
To touch — the cloth of a
Far Greater Rhyme.
The Kingdom of God
Click for meditationRegarding "The Kingdom of God"
The Kingdom of God,
That elusive, mysterious place of peace
Inside me, a place repeatedly
Referenced in the Gospels,
Has the potential to
Be so many things, and have
So many interpretations…
I meditate upon this, and sometimes
Feel in a flash of insight
That I have determined its
True meaning, and then in a likewise flash
It is lost, gone, like a lamb from the
Sheepfold, but then again
Found in the dark and cold of night,
And carried back on the
Strong shoulders of much clearer,
Simpler thought…
Leo Carroll
July 8, 2018
What kind of Kingdom
Within me exists?
Is it a Kingdom of
Softest fleece, impregnable
To the molten lava
Of anxiety’s Vesuvius?
Or,
Is it a Kingdom
Whose genesis is even
Smaller than a tiny
Mustard seed, and waits to
Be watered to
Bloom into beauty?
Or,
Is it a Kingdom
Which proclaims I am like
A lamb inside the
Sheepfold, protected by
A shepherd who knew me before
I was known?