Posts Tagged ‘Bhava Yoga’

Bhava Yoga

February 9, 2017

DSCF2570

(“Italian Dawn “, Jane Kohut-Bartels, watercolor, 2003)

Open Link Night over at dversepoets. com.  Come over and see what Grace and others have submitted.

Bhava Yoga

 

Morning’s roseate sky

Has been blasted away,

Branches now whirligigs

Swirl with a fierce southern wind

As windows rattle in frames.

 

A tattered umbrella

Shades from a relentless sun.

I listen to Bhava Yoga

The vibration of Love,

Where imagination meets

Memory in the dark.

Yet surrounding these soothing tones

The world outside this music

Conspires to disrupt, sweep away

All thought, reflection.

 

The fierce wind gets my attention.

I can not deny its primal force.

 

Still, the pulse of Bhava Yoga

Draws me within,

Feeds imagination with memory,

Calls forth something as enduring as the fury outside,

And I feel the pulse of the infinite.

==

We are like birds,

Clinging with dulled claws to

The swaying branches of life.

 

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2014 (from Pitcher of Moon, Amazon.com, 2014)

 

“Bhava Yoga”

August 15, 2016

Kohut-Bartels-LS-3

“Dawn Geese”, watercolor, jane Kohut-Bartels, 2006

 

Bhava Yoga

 

Morning’s roseate sky

Has been blasted away,

Branches now whirligigs

Swirl with a fierce southern wind

As windows rattle in frames.

 

A tattered umbrella

Shades from a relentless sun.

I listen to Bhava Yoga

The vibration of Love,

Where imagination meets

Memory in the dark.

Yet surrounding these soothing tones

The world outside this music

Conspires to disrupt, sweep away

All thought, reflection.

 

The fierce wind gets my attention.

I can not deny its primal force.

 

Still, the pulse of Bhava Yoga

Draws me within,

Feeds imagination with memory,

Calls forth something as enduring as the fury outside,

And I feel the pulse of the infinite.

==

We are like birds,

Clinging with dulled claws to

The swaying branches of life.

 

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2016

 

 

“Bhava Yoga”….for Earth Day, which should be everyday.

April 22, 2016

backyard with geraniums.JPG

The backyard is the domain of 4 dogs, 8 hens and a rooster.  Potted plants at least slow down the romping dogs, but the hens have developed a taste for potted roses.

Lady Nyo

==

 

Bhava Yoga

 

Morning’s roseate sky

Has been blasted away,

Branches now whirligigs

Swirl with a fierce southern wind

As windows rattle in frames.

 

A tattered umbrella

Shades from a relentless sun.

I listen to Bhava Yoga

The vibration of Love,

Where imagination meets

Memory in the dark.

Yet surrounding these soothing tones

The world outside this music

Conspires to disrupt, sweep away

All thought, reflection.

 

The fierce wind gets my attention.

I can not deny its primal force.

 

Still, the pulse of Bhava Yoga

Draws me within,

Feeds imagination with memory,

Calls forth something as enduring as the fury outside,

And I feel the pulse of the infinite.

==

We are like birds,

Clinging with dulled claws to

The swaying branches of life.

 

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 201backyard with geraniums.JPG

chickens 2.JPG

chickens, rooster, xmas 2015Mimi Cat August

Mimi, who sez that today should be “Mimi Day” in appreciation of her antics…..

 

Happy Easter!!! and a poem, “Bhava Yoga”

April 2, 2015

spring garden 4

Spring Garden

It is spring in the south, and the storms are brewing to the west of Atlanta.  This is the usual course of events, and over the past years the thunderstorms have brought violent weather, tornadoes, hail and flooding rains.  It is Easter in a matter of days, and the weather promises to behave, bringing a gorgeous Easter Sunday morning.  I hope so, but the skies right now look menacing enough, and we will have to take the good with the bad.

The picture above is of my front garden last night before dark.  Last fall I planted 300 bulbs, of daffodils, tulips and crocus.  About 50 tulips have come up, but because they are more a cold weather bulb, they will have to be replanted next fall.  Or….I can get in there and dig them up and put them in cold storage.  Either way, they make a lovely show in a small part of the front garden.

Happy Easter!

Lady Nyo

Bhava Yoga

 

Morning’s roseate sky

Has been blasted away,

Branches now whirligigs

Swirl with a fierce southern wind

As windows rattle in frames.

A tattered umbrella

Shades from a relentless sun.

I listen to Bhava Yoga

The vibration of Love,

Where imagination meets

Memory in the dark.

Yet surrounding these soothing tones

The world outside this music

Conspires to disrupt, sweep away

Any centered down thought, reflection.

The fierce wind demands my attention.

Still, the pulse of Bhava Yoga

Draws me within,

Feeds imagination with memory,

Calls forth something as enduring as the fury outside,

And I feel the pulse of the infinite.

Our lives are lived in the spheres of

Inside/outside

And we are like birds,

Clinging with dulled claws to

The swaying branches of life.

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2012

from:  “Pitcher of Moon”, 2014,  available at Createspace, Amazon.com

Daffodils 2015 spring

Tulips in Front Garden Spring 2015

“Bhava Yoga” and the resiliance of life….

August 8, 2014
PItcher of Moon, available from Createspace, Amazon.com

PItcher of Moon, available from Createspace, Amazon.com

Giant English Hollyhock

Giant English Hollyhock

I am amazed. Two weeks ago I lost my dear 102 year old Aunt Jean. She was the most influential person in my life. Warm, compassionate, wise, witty, when she died, I didn’t feel much. Now I know I experienced a numbness of emotion, afraid of what would happen when I ‘let go’ in grief. When my father died 24 years ago, I suffered criticism for ‘head nodding’ during this staged memorial service. That stopped me up and I was afraid. I gave too much power to a cold, self-centered woman who used power and control even at a funeral. I know now that grief, even over something so natural as (any) expression of grief….should not be corralled, denied, or controlled. I have learned something important here, and I have a lot of gratitude for those people in my life, especially the dead ones, for their support and compassion. I am grateful. Not so grateful for some still living….

I am also amazed at how the body and mind heals. It takes time, and I have had a particular arena to observe this: I am diabetic and my insurance (Humana) has informed me that I am in a ‘donut hole’. In other words, unless I pay a couple of thousand dollars and then the uninsured price (monthly) for these meds, I am on my own. Until the first of next year. In other words, the public is held up by pharmaceuticals and insurance companies who work hand in glove with them. Including the doctors that get kick backs.

At first I wondered what in hell I would do? And then, over the course of only a week, I realized the long term depression I felt had lifted. I wasn’t so damn numb anymore. And it could be traced back to the Victoza I was taking. Now? I am on my own, but it’s sort of a welcome challenge. Very tight control of what I eat and a lot more exercise. A LOT more exercise.

Last night my husband of 30 years brought home a leaflet advertising Salsa/Mambo classes. For years we both have wanted to take Argentina Tango, so we are still on the search here. But what a lovely gesture of my sweet husband to remember this! For the past week I have been working with 3lb weights and back to some belly dance movements: this has loosened me up, and my body feels better. A month ago I had a serious fall, and didn’t move much, afraid to, because of it. Now? Tango looks good. Even flamenco again, but I think that’s down the road. But I have the red shoes waiting!

As a poet, I exist in the realm of philosophical implications. I don’t think many of us can get very far away from that. My dear Aunt Jean was always so, and her letters express so much of this mindset, even to the very last one I received from her at 101 years old. I have so much to be grateful for. I have such gratitude for the presence of this stellar woman in my life.

Lady Nyo

Bhava Yoga

Morning’s roseate sky
Has been blasted away,
Branches now whirligigs
Swirl with a fierce southern wind
As windows rattle in frames.

A tattered umbrella
Shades from a relentless sun.
I listen to Bhava Yoga
The vibration of Love,
Where imagination meets
Memory in the dark.
Yet surrounding these soothing tones
The world outside this music
Conspires to disrupt, sweep away
Any centered down thought, reflection.

The fierce wind demands my attention.

Still, the pulse of Bhava Yoga
This Vibration of Love,
Draws me within,
Feeds imagination with memory,
Calls forth something as enduring as the fury outside,
And I feel the pulse of the infinite.

Our lives are lived in the spheres of
Inside/outside
And we are like birds,
Clinging with dulled claws to
The swaying branches of life.

Jane Kohut-Bartels
Copyrighted, 2014, from “Pitcher of Moon”, published by Createspace, Amazon.com

“Bhava Yoga”, a poem

June 22, 2013

kohut-Bartels-LS-8

One of my earlier marine paintings, watercolor, Jane Kohut-Bartels, 2006

A sad time. A 16 year old cat, Rose, has disappeared for 9 days, and probably has gone off to die and our 30 plus goldfish in our pond were killed by an algaecide that shouldn’t have. Life is uncertain, and all we can do is hang on.

Lady Nyo

Bhava Yoga

Morning’s roseate sky
Has been blasted away,
Branches now whirligigs
Swirl with a fierce southern wind
As windows rattle in frames.

A tattered umbrella
Shades from a relentless sun.
I listen to Bhava Yoga
The vibration of Love,
Where imagination meets
Memory in the dark.
Yet surrounding these soothing tones
The world outside this music
Conspires to disrupt, sweep away
Any centered down thought, reflection.

The fierce wind demands my attention.

Still, the pulse of Bhava Yoga
Draws me within,
Feeds imagination with memory,
Calls forth something as enduring as the fury outside,
And I feel the pulse of the infinite.

Our lives are lived in the spheres of
Inside/outside
And we are like birds,
Clinging with dulled claws to
The swaying branches of life.

Jane Kohut-Bartels
Copyrighted, 2012

“Bhava Yoga”….and alo and helló to readers in Romania and Hungary!

February 21, 2013

Very recently I decided to gather the poems of the last two years and see if they could be herded into a poetry book. My dear friend and comrade, Bill Penrose, is willing and able to do the formatting and with his efforts, this can be done. The book is gong to be very different for me: no tanka, no haiku, nothing Japanese…just freeverse, or what I hope is freeverse. The book will come out this spring, probably published by Lulu.com….and be titled: “Pitcher of Moon”.

I’ve had some health challenges lately, and I want to thank my dear friends, Bill, Bren Goode and Nick Nicholson. These three are the wind under my wings…always. I wouldn’t be much of a poet without their encouragement and support.

Lady Nyo

Bhava Yoga

Morning’s roseate sky
Has been blasted away,
Branches now whirligigs
Swirl with a fierce southern wind
As windows rattle in frames.

A tattered umbrella
Shades from a relentless sun.
I listen to Bhava Yoga
The vibration of Love,
Where imagination meets
Memory in the dark.
Yet surrounding these soothing tones
The world outside this music
Conspires to disrupt, sweep away
Any centered down thought, reflection.

The fierce wind demands my attention.

Still, the pulse of Bhava Yoga
Draws me within,
Feeds memory with imagination,
Calls forth something as enduring as the fury outside,
And I feel the pulse of the infinite.

Our lives are lived in the spheres of
Inside/outside
And we are like birds,
Clinging with dulled claws to
The swaying branches of life.

Jane Kohut-Bartels
Copyrighted, 2013

“Bhava Yoga”, the Vibration of Love….

June 26, 2012

sky in the NorthEast, Jane Kohut-Bartels, June 25, 2012

 

Bhava Yoga

 

Morning’s roseate sky

blasted away,

branches now whirligigs

swirl with a fierce southern wind

making windows rattle in frames.

 

A tattered umbrella

shades  a relentless sun.

I listen to  Bhava Yoga

The vibration of Love,

where Imagination meets

Memory in the dark.

Yet surrounding these devotional tones

the world outside this music

conspires to disrupt, sweep away

any centered- down thought, reflection.

 

The fierce wind demands my attention.

It duels with energies

I am compelled to  attend.

 

Still, the pulse of Bhava Yoga

Draws me within,

Feeds memory with imagination,

Calls forth something as enduring as the fury outside,

And I feel the pulse of the infinite.

 

Our lives are lived in the spheres of

Inside/outside

And we are  birds,

Clinging with dulled claws to

The swaying branches of life.

 

Jane Kohut-Bartels,

Copyrighted, 2012


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