Santy Claws

 We all love Xmas trees, especially Santy Claws.

Click on "Go to this Sway" to hear me read my Xmas poem. Scroll down below the photo and click on the tiny diamond arrow to listen. 

Santy Claws

Go to this Sway

Origin of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer

 Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer was created by a copy editor working for the Montgomery Ward department store in 1939. I recorded the story.

Click on the link to hear me read the story to you:

https://sway.office.com/j7cRBDfmhd7PKvHW?ref=Link

Dare To Be Uniquely You

 By Mushroom Montoya

Why do we succumb to conformity
Wrapping a muzzle on our creativity,
On our ability to be beautiful
In our own unique way?

It has always been those who dare
To be the odd ones
Ridiculed, teased, and sometimes beaten
For daring to be
Their own true selves

Who, in doing so,
Crack open Freedom’s door
A little wider
Stretching what is acceptable
Proper, and perhaps just OK
For everyone else.

Dare to be who and what you are
Without conformity’s cloak
Choking the beauty
That you are.

Don't Be Late!

Click This to listen to the poem
Don’t Be Late!

By Mushroom Montoya

I’m running late,
For a date of our own making,
Creating a turbulence
In my mind,

While continually twisting a knot
In my gut
For what?
               I

                    don’t

                                  know. 

Both my hands and all of my feet are
Desperately trying to catch up with my eyes
Who zoom from one “must do now”
To the “Oh my god, I need to do that first.”

 

So terribly hectic I go
That I miss out on the natural flow
Of my own existence.

I lunge ahead

Into an imaginary “next”,
Whirling me out of my ability to focus
On the beauty all around me.
As I rush to get the next thing done.

And then I feel exhausted,

                     Over-worked,

                                           And bewildered
Wondering how I’ve lost control.

And then I collapse under our guava tree
Who cradles me under her branches
Telling me I needn’t race
To finish the day,

To get things done,
To run from here to there
Because all that rushing
Only brings me to
Where I am
At this very moment.

“Stop,”
She clatters with her leaves,
“Breathe.

Take this minute.
To delight in my dazzling blooms.

“Your breath is life’s gift to you.
Enjoy it,

                Feel it,

                            Taste it.
Now.

Listen to the cool breeze,
Whispering stories of butterflies,
Flittering from orange blossom to rose bloom
As they escape the beaks of hungry birds.

Be one with the flowers,

Enjoying sex
With the bees,

Frolicking through their petals.

Be grateful for these quiet moments
For they are delicious
When you slow down enough
To savor them.

 

You can only do that
When you shift into the Now

That is ever present,
Just waiting for you
To notice.”

I Am Grateful for Lawn Sprinklers

I am grateful for lawn sprinklers

That lure me

With their mesmerizing buzz

 

Where I am

delightfully snared

by the sight of water droplets,

 

Bending into an arch

and splashing

on the grass,

 

As the sunshine

Dresses them

in shimmering galaxies,

 

While the birds are chirping;

Telling stories

of blustering wind

and gully washer rains,

 

While shrouding

the low drone of car engines,

whizzing along on the freeway.

 

I stand in awe,

Feeling

My heart beating

a tranquil song.

 

 

Can She Know Who She Is?

  Can She Know Who She is?

By Mushroom Montoya

A wise man said,
If she knows who she is
She will never be lost.

Can she know who she is
and still be lost in a forest,
Caught in the beauty
All around her?

 

Can she know who she is
and still be lost in a classroom
when the teacher is referencing
a passage in a book,
while she is distracted by a bird,
flying by the window?

 

Can she know who she is
and still be lost in grief
when the person she loves the most
dies?

 

Can she know who she is
and still be blissfully lost in love
with the one she cherishes?

 

Can she know who she is
when she is constantly changing
Into another version from her former self?

 

Or is it that she KNEW
who she was
before the current
passing moment?

 

And isn’t being lost 
an opportunity 
For her to find something new
About herself
That she is evolving into?

 

And isn’t being lost
An opportunity to practice
Finding out who she really is
While she's in motion?

Orange Sliver

Orange Sliver

By Mushroom Montoya

An orange sliver

Extended his finger

Peeking over the horizon.

 

I barely blinked.

And he splashed the sky

With a blazing orange ball,

Snaring the entirety of my attention,

Filling my soul with gratitude.

 

For I am now awake,

And fully alive,

Ready to dive

Into each moment,

 

Smelling the flowers

As they spread their wings

And flutter their beauty

Into my heart,

 

While the hummingbirds dart

Their dazzling coats

Here and there,

and then they hover,

 

Sharing their zest,

Doing their best

To remind me

I am beautiful, too.