No guile and no guard. Like a spiderweb, I tear in the wind. The simple act of breathing so laboured and strained. Pain and heaviness, the two friends that remained. How to find lightness of spirit when a simple breath is so hard? Like a beetle under a rock, finding solace and safety in my home. I hope the giant won’t come by, and overturn this stone. A shell covered crab scurrying away from the foot, I dig deeper in the sand. Trying to gather my strength to deal with life, and withstand. The chaos, scattered in pieces all around my head. I close my eyes, and sense into the pure version of me in the distance. I make the endless travel into the absolute. Yet realize it’s not there, but here in my presence. Moving beyond breath, a deepening. Merging with the transparency of love in flow. This IS the breath. The great inhale and exhale of life. Creation and destruction. The essence of my soul.
Sleeping Sorrow
My sorrow is lying next to me when I awake. I resist the urge to grab my phone or run away. My body a shell of what it once was, cold and empty. Already defeated before I’ve even started the day. So this morning I turn to face my hurt filled lover. Unwillingly yet resigned to face the truth. I embrace my grief and merge to become one, knowing the wholeness of one is finer than the dual. This morning‘s pain so deep, only one tear trickles down my face and the rest rain inside my body. How healing a good rain cry is, it washes and cleanses yet also nourishes. I’m sorry my lover of sadness that I often neglect you, with the busyness of life it’s easy to forget you. But when I take the time to connect deeply to know you, our intimacy gives me the strength to carry on with life.
Circles and Squares
To dance to the beat of my own life’s drum has always been easier said than done. An introvert in an extrovert world has always been more painful than I let on. Trying to be this person for that person and that person for this person, has been my gift and also my con. So I try to fit the mold of my circle to your square, hoping and praying there’s none to be aware. No one is looking. How could it be? In a world caught up in ‘me’. The truth is I’m different than I may appear. Why I always hid from the world, I’m not that clear. How much work it is trying to be something I am not. My soul’s wisdom and essence was something I often forgot. Yet age softens the edges of these constructs. Too tired to care and so I leave it bare. With time the beat of my own life’s drum grows louder. And with each year, a growing power. The nervous turn to calm, the fear turn to courage. A soft peace to accompany my drum, along my life’s passage.
The Puppet Strings of Stars
As the tightness of my ego loosens its grip on my body, I fall gently backwards. My spine realigning and floating easily as I unfurl. The force and gravity of the heavens pulling on my puppet strings. I relax knowing a new more intelligent master is taking control. Where this play will take me I do not know. No rehearsing lines or dressing up, I soften and enjoy the show. The force of the stars, sun, planets and moon was always more than we knew.Just because the city lights blurred them out didn’t mean they didn’t exist.Universe, I’m sorry I forgot your tremendous strength. Yes I can see you, but even better I can feel you. Your electric power igniting my inner spark. My yin waters conducting your mighty yang, as I embark.
Body of clouds
I am the clouds moving quickly across the sky and I am also this body. How is this so? I do not know? Yet it is…
Like a hurricane that rips and tears through a tower leaving an empty shell, I look across the land at the strewn pieces of me. Life’s force much too great to try to make sense of this disordered state. Feeble and vain attempt to heal the blight is the comical tale of humanity’s plight. So I sit and allow the clouds and wind to pass through the empty rooms that remain. Fresh and new and light, when I finally let go of the fight. I am the clouds and this body.
She is the Mover of Water
She comes from the womb of the earth and is the mover of water.She’s been taught for a lifetime to walk the straight and narrow course, yet the innate river that dances inside her has always had another force. Her body ebbs and flows with passions and woes. Her crestfallen spirit spills tears into the ocean only to rise the tides with its shedding. Her anger, the breakers on shore with each each truth that she pour. More often than not, no idea of where she’s heading. To be a woman in the world of boxes and squares, has never made sense with its waste and wares. The streams that run through the veins of her body, meander and wander like spirit divining. She finally embraces her power and flow and trusts in all that she does and does not know
City Nature
My time of tuning to you Nature, binds us now for life. I listen crow, for the beating of your wings in flight through the sounds of traffic. I listen to you little bird with your sweet chirping banter past the sounds of sirens. I clutch your hairs, sweet grass to feel sensual closeness to your deep, weighted and earthly support. I hear you rustling leaves of my friends the stable trees, past the sounds of protest and anger that resides in the streets. Nature, although it often seems you fight for your place in the noise of the city, I hear you, I feel you, I see you and smell you. You keep my senses alive. And by tuning to you nature, you remind me always that it is in fact you that roots me in my healing in my urban dwelling. So I listen and meditate past the drowning rumble of the city and I hear you Silence, remembering that You silence are actually my true Nature.
Woman Extolled
The vice binding my head holds me strongly to the illusions of life. I quiet and relax in attempt to loosen its grip, tentative like a deck of cards starting to tip. It holds so tight, a protection from this lifetime and others. Force has never worked for this delicate procedure as I’ve been told by my foremothers. So I wait and I breathe and I notice what I notice… Finally one stone loosens like a rock dislodged from a mountaintop. Will an avalanche ensue? Will one rock fall or a whole mountain collapse? I surrender to it’s power, nothing to do but to witness. Other doors are revealed to me, as I access the depths of loneliness. Like a loose stitch on a fabric I pull on a thread, revealing deeper chambers of lost pieces of me. Like glowing caves in the dark, I visit my traumas one by one. Bringing my age and wisdom and love to each one. The air is thick and stale with ancient hurts and ancestral knots. Finally pain is released through the surrender of moon time blood, a deep soaking of the brittle earth and mud. A sacred offering of my soul. My numb womb warming with the reclaiming of power for both mother earth and woman extolled.
The Guru
The guru waves his hand across my mind to still my motion. Continuing along his flowered filled path, a flow of love trailing behind him in devotion. His loving smile and glance and third eye kiss, rendering my bliss. Stepping out of me and into Knowing. Knowing follows the slow compassionate river on the journey to nowhere, the most precious place in existence. The saturation of stillness, the glorious gift of nothing and everything, the absolute subsistence. No mind or body, no urge or desire. Breath the only tethering as I expire. Simple Presence is present. The glory of Being Now. The wisdom of the Saint blessing my avow.