Melinda Coppola

twenty four may | from the inside out

Melinda Coppola

twenty four may | from the inside out

About My Blog

I started this blog to quiet the voices in my head and heart that have been whispering and cajoling and sometimes yelling at me to write more.

This is a space where all the parts of me—mother, poet, wife, lover of beach stones and furry creatures and frequent toe-dipper in the river of song, Yoga practitioner, and teacher and she-who-cooks and she-who-makes-art and she-who-loves-silence, where all the parts of me can come out to play.

I started this blog to keep myself engaged in dialogue with my soul. If what I write interests you, educates you, moves you, …well, that’s a beautiful bonus.

Most Recent Blog Post

I Wish You Knew

In the Garden

 

Imagine if you will, dear one, dear one and all, that you are sent to manifest something unique and quite vital to the world.  You arrive as rich seeded earth, landing in just the right geographic location to support your eventual yield. The trees and the flowers and the shrubs in this area respond perfectly to your soil, the climate supports what your seeds will send forth. The birds who nest here and those that just pass through on their migratory flights need just what will rise from your depths.

Your mission here, then, is this: to allow what is inside you to come forth naturally and without concern for the pattern your greenery makes on the dirt or the or color of your fruit. Let judgment or comparison be themselves trespassers in your garden.   You will learn to recognize what is weed and what your true crop is to be. You’ll learn to pluck out the unwanted; tension and fear and all that which prevents your flowering and takes up space in your earth. You will learn to lift your leaves toward the sun, to soak in each precious rain, to sink your roots deep into the hot earth and allow the bounty of yourself to thrive. You will learn to surrender and watch your garden grow in healthy ways.

Let your gifts root well and blossom and send new seeds out into the world, but do not be concerned about where they travel. Do not try to follow them but rather release them to Mother Wind and let them find their own way.

Your landscape, your offerings will change, the nature of your soil will evolve in a dance with the seasons over years and you will learn to love the worms that do their deep work tirelessly, turning, turning creating more from enough and making space for all that must come forth. You will learn to let your heavier minerals and salts sink toward the core of this earth as your elements merge with her, become part of her so none can say where or when you were not here, or if there ever was a time or place that you did not belong to.

You will draw strength from these deep places, your evolving layers will grow the alchemy of all that is alive within you as roots feed shoots upward into stems, upward into leaves and wild flowers, branches, nesting spots for creatures of every glorious kind. And what lifts toward the sun, what drinks in the rain and sends glorious flowering plumes of scented energies up and out into the heavens, and what holds deep in the earth, what roots and sustains, will be the One continuum of Spirit, expressed through blooming unique you as a gift from God to the garden of all humankind.

 

Melinda Coppola

Read More Blog Posts

Daisy Bell

I’m showing my age, and proudly, when I ask this—do you remember the sweet old song called Daisy Bell? “Daisy, Daisy, tell me your answer, do/ I’m half crazy all for the love of you…” Those lyrics and that tune lodged itself in my memory when I was nine or ten years

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There’s no write time

  BLOCKED This morning the mirrorcaught my eyes,and I locked gazewith the creature staring back at me, wondering, as I sometimes do,what would happenif I opted not to claim her. If I chose a different identitywould the mirror recognize my sovereigntyor would it keep reflecting backthis worn face,these lips closedtight against all the

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Dreamed some dreams

“A DREAM NOT INTERPRETED IS LIKE A LETTER NOT READ.” — The Talmud Last was a night of serial dreams, each building on the tangled mysteries of the one before. There was big sky, and journeying. There was an impossibly tiny stream and a dusty, broad road that earns the

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In praise of song

              SONG STORIES You open your mouth and out pours a river carrying the rhythms of fluids— blood and lymph, tears, synovial. It is current, and source, keeper of memories and the stories of your ancestors, and mine. Song is the lilting thing passed

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Receiving the darkness

The word solstice was born from the Latin sol ( sun) and sistere ( to stand still).    Solstice, winter This darker interlude could be a meditation, a reckoning with the deceptive nature of time. The exacting practice of being present is to show up for each round moment as if

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Morning is mostly a prayer

It’s been over a month since I last posted here. The reasons are many, but I guess it all whittles down to this: not blogging begets not blogging. I’m here now, though, offering this poem I wrote last month. It was a rainy November, indeed. Undone Honestly, it was the

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Arrivals

I’m posting this a day before my daughter’s 26th birthday. I’ve always felt, with certainty, that we were meant to incarnate this way, as mother and daughter, at this particular time in the life of this planet. I don’t need to know why, because I know it’s true.  Happy birthday,

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The Meaning of Compassion

The Kuan Yin She keeps watch in the warm corner of my bedroom, her bearing almost more regal for the rivers of cracks and generous chips that mark her faded turquoise. Her right hand, the deliverer of action, folds into Gyan Mudra, the gesture of consciousness. Preparing to take her

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Little Things

It was, in my home, an ordinary weekend morning. I rose before him, he before her, the felines were fed. I made three different kinds of tea, two prepared with stevia and soymilk, one with honey. It was the latter that sparked it. She who has such challenges, she who’s

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