Linda Studley

Can't Put the Pen Down…

Archive for the tag “meaning of life”


I live in a bubble, life
playing out around me in comforting
rhythms, familiar if not predictable.
Passive spectator except on those
rare occasions when the bubble pops
and the world stands forth, stark and clean.

Colours sing that three dimensions,
five senses,
one lifetime,
are not enough
to experience a world so real
and I know that if I could just stay
outside the bubble I could hold time
in the palm of my hand, vanquish
the dragons of pain, fear, and longing, see
inside hearts, and speak without words.

Then a random, mundane thought intrudes
and the bubble sneaks up around me again, clouds
the freshness, lulls my senses.
But just before the bubble closes I wonder
‘is this what becoming one with the universe means?
Was I there and I blew it again?
Will I ever find my way back?’.

I feel in my bones this world
I’ve glimpsed is a stepping stone
to eternity and if I could just stay
long enough to find my way
I would sprout new senses, fly
into a new dimension, the next lifetime.
The dragons growl.
The bubble closes.

Bread as Life

There is a point in the bread-making process
when the ragged tags and the sticky strings
of dough coalesce.
A point when the dusty, broken surface heals
and become soft and pliable,
a complete entity imbued with life.

Perhaps I am close to that point
because I often feel ragged;
constrained by strings that have just enough
stretch to make me think I’m going forward.
A little more pummelling and
the dusty cracks in my soul will heal.
I will become serene and know
how to bend instead of break.
A complete entity imbued with life.


Wherein I Try to Piece My Life Together Like a Jigsaw Puzzle

Start with edges, straight lines of reason
terminating in sharp, 90 degree corners.
But there are too many corners, the edges blur,
and the scene shifts from white clouds on pale blue to stars on velvet indigo.

Pieces of life can be treacherous.
They do not interlock securely.
Knobs wear down, pockets grow holes,
and the shiny, thin veneer lifts at the edges, exposes the dull grey beneath.

The original box is long gone and with it the picture
of what  this life should look like.
Only fragmentary hints of overlapping true colours, larger truths,
and persistent trial and error will ever get this thing finished.

And what then?  A window? A mirror?
A slowing fading postcard crying “Wish you were here” ?
I think I shall spend less time straining to find the big picture,
and more time enjoying the  potential of the little pieces.

Day and Life

Over, under, over, under
Like a twining Celtic knot.
Under, over, under, over.
Seed to plant to bloom to rot.

Curve and spin, curve and spin.
Like the giddy spiral dance.
Spin and curve, spin and curve.
Hope to thought to deed to chance.

Up and down, up and down.
Crashing wavelets crest and cream.
Down and up, down and up.
Stream to cloud to rain to stream.

Rise and set, rise and set.
Shimmer cold and blazing spark.
Set and rise, set and rise.
dawn to day to dusk to dark.



The Meaning of Life

The Meaning of Life
lives in a candy store jar
without a label.

The jar is never
full or in the same spot twice,
except when it is.

The candy inside
is sweet, sour, and salty
all at the same time.

The tang on your tongue
makes you shake your head and wince
and yet you want more.

The candy store is
open and yet you stand with
your nose to the glass.

The Meaning of Life
is just taking what you need
and leaving the rest.



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