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Savasana in Winter

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Regarding "Savasana in Winter"

We are a society which relies on
Science and technology to explain things to us, and to
Make easier our lives now and into the future.
In other parts of the world, this is not
Necessarily so much the case, but here in the
United States, science and technology rule
Our daily lives. And so, when things happen
Which are not readily explainable, we are
Perplexed and left looking for answers…
As a simple example, how often is it
That when we are strongly thinking about
Someone that we by chance then
Happen to meet them at a gasoline
Station or while shopping in a
Supermarket, or when a loved one
Comes into our mind who is deceased,
That the next thing we see is their
Favorite bird…? Ordinary things.
Everyday occurrences. And so on and on…
These things to me are mysteries
Which shout out that something
Bigger than we are is at work and is not
Readily explainable, at least as far as
We can understand. About five years ago
I was in an early morning yoga class,
And towards the end of the hour
The yoga instructor asked us to lie
Back onto our mats into savasana pose,
Where we would typically spend
Five to ten minutes in a meditative,
Almost trance-like, relaxing state.
On this particular day, as my mind
Started to relax, it still tangentially clung
Onto something which I had been previously
Thinking about. Then, as I was lying in
My savasana pose, I felt something
Lightly nudge my extended right hand.
The gentle contact got my attention,
And then I felt it again…and
Again…and so I slightly raised my
Head to peek, and there snuggling
Next to my hand was a little red
Medicine ball. Where it came from I
Do not know! The yoga class had
Not been using these, but somehow
This little red ball had probably rolled out of the
Classroom closet and crept across the
Hardwood floor and found me, and started
Touching me, not just once but multiple
Times, in a comforting, consoling way.
It was as if my flesh was being
Tended to by an inanimate object!
And strangely, I immediately sensed that
What I had been thinking about
Was going to be okay…

Leo Carroll
March 7, 2019

 

I felt it on my right hand,
A touch, a very light, imperceptible
Touch, an almost tender form of
Intimate communication and connection
And unexpected affection — when
I was otherwise immersed
In the midst of settling slowly
Into my meditation, and waiting up’n
A trance to relieve my mind —
I felt it, and then again, and
So I raised my head slightly from
My yoga mat to take a discreet,
Quick peek, and there,
Behold, nudging me with soft
Persistence and love was a
Small, red medicine ball,
Six inches in diameter, which
Had somehow rolled itself across the
Infinite expanse of the universe,
And was now reminding me
I was not alone, and any earthen
Concern was fleeting when
Before Creation’s power
Was compared…

Leo Carroll
Winter 2014
Westford Regency Health Club
Westford, Massachusetts



Photo by Anna Novak
Walden Pond with reeds in foreground

Ode to Walden Pond

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Regarding "Ode to Walden Pond"

This poem attempts to
Explain the profound meaning of
Walden Pond to me.
But my words fail!
My feelings on this subject
Far surpass the ability
Of my verse to
Convey them, and,
Honestly, probably
Always will fall short…
Everything about
Walden – the
Chameleon colors
Of its waters,
The changing moods
Of its seasons
As seen in the
Overhanging leaves,
The warmth of
Its late spring and
Summer and early
Autumn waters, its
Mystical depths
And fathoms, always
Mysteriously
Rising and falling,
Its stone steps for
Sitting and remembering…
These all overwhelm
Me…and simultaneously
Both draw me to
Walden Pond and caution
Me not to get too
Close — lest I turn into a
Pillar of salt, like once
Betook Lot’s wife.

Leo Carroll
October 29, 2018

 

I am told your colors
Blend blue and green, but I
Choose olivine, and
See your hue as if tinted
Like an earring.

I am told your seasons
In rhythm move from mood
To mood, but I choose
Autumn, and call its
Peace, “maple solitude”

I am told your waters
Can vary in their heights and
Depths, but I choose
The level which best
Reveals your stone steps.

Leo Carroll
July 3, 2010
Westford, Massachusetts



Photo by Scott Lewis
A rose on a notebook

The Notebook

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Regarding "The Notebook"

The most important thing I do
Every day is to write.
It is my life. It is my balm.
It is peaceful. It is
The one dependable
Action I take which is sure
Any raging waters
To calm. It is a gift to me.
Unmerited. It casts
A fence around me as
If I was reclined in the sweet
Sheepfold of Psalm 23.
It could even be
Viewed as my version
Of the Kingdom of Heaven,
That blessed seed
Bestowed within each of us,
Which has the
Potential to leaven into
A majestic, flowering tree.

Leo Carroll
October 2, 2018

 

Would this notebook
Be able to keep me afloat in
A raging sea, its paper,
Once wood, a life
Preserver’s giving me
Buoyancy, or,
Would last sight of
Me be with an arm
Raised high, notebook
Held up to the last,
And then down,
Down deep, gone,
Below the waves and
Into the vast…?

Leo Carroll
October 9, 2005
Westford, Massachusetts



Photo by Elaina Carroll

Winter Resurrection

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Regarding "Winter Resurrection"

On a cold, cold February
Day on Plum Island,
When to hold onto a pen in my
Fingers was almost too
Difficult, and on the entire
Expanse of the beach
There was not one other
Person to be seen, the waves
Continued to pound in
All their glory…as
If oblivious to all else…
And so I knew then
I could write, too…
Despite all else.

Leo Carroll
April 16, 2018

 

It was too cold to put
My toes into the
Water, but not too cold
For poetry, so a
Steel-blue surf gave
Way to my words, and
Into the depths
I plunged unhurt.

Leo Carroll
February 5, 2004
Plum Island, Massachusetts



Photo by Scott Lewis

Depths

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Regarding "Depths"

Depths,
Cleansing depths,
Healing depths,
And depths
Available
To all of us
If we can just
Hold long enough
Our breaths…
How deep
Can
We go,
How much do
We want to
Find for what we
Search,
How long,
How deep, no
Matter how
Much it helps when
It hurts…?

Leo Carroll
November 24, 2018

 

Down, down deep,
Into the depths I
Plunge, sounding for the
Bottom in fathoms
Dive to plumb.

Down, down deep,
The water courses
O’er me, in a protective
Rush of foam
Across my eternity.

Down, down deep,
My body points
In arrow flight, single
In its purpose, its
Object out of sight…

Leo Carroll
September 12, 2002
Westford, Massachusetts



Photo by Kevin Shattuck