No One

 

In bits and pieces,

Dribs and drabs, 

Bit by bit, he fades away.

Less and less and less… until 

There is no more, and

All that is left is brittle pieces on the floor

To be swept under the rug where no one will see,

No one will care, no one will know, not even him.

No one.

Except me.

Only me…

Death

 

A mouse died in my house.

The odor is nasty.

Why does death stink?

I know the biology of it.

Life leaves the body, the organs rot away

Causing the odor, but why?

Why a horrible odor?

It is a signal to scavengers to come for a meal?

Or is it an announcement that

Once again death has triumphed

And all that remains of the once living is the stink.

Not very polite of death but it certainly gets my attention.

Maybe that’s all death really wanted all along.

No Need

It is left behind.

I have no use,

I have no need,

I have no want,

But it does.

It needs and wants,

Howls and cries,

Pleads and bargains,

Stops and starts but,

I have no use,

No need, no want, no choice and

I leave it all behind.

I’ll Save Your Place

The doors and windows are open wide and welcome

The wind as it blows through my house and my soul.

It brings a beingness of light and truth, peace and love, disguised as wind.

Trees sway in its beauty,

Souls sing in harmony with its truth and

The unconscious void is filled with its one love.

I know that the empty void from my past existed only in my mind.

My mind was deluded and swayed by the ways of the world but now,

I am neither of the world nor in the world as

The world is in me and you and you and you…

There is no separateness in our beings but great diversity in our humanness,

As it should be, as it was meant to be. The contrast is beautiful.

“Between the silence of the mountains and the crashing of the sea, there lives a land I once lived in and he’s waiting there for me” Moody Blues

So… will you meet me there, in the silence of the mountains, in the void of fullness, in a world of our own making

Where the wind blows its truth into our souls

And surrounds our hearts with love?

If I get there first, I’ll save your place.

Will you do the same for me?

Small Things

“The Great arises out of small things that are honored and cared for” Eckhart Tolle, A New Earth

 

Such wisdom in so few words.

But what is the Great if not a compilation of the small.

 

Nothing is too small to be part of the One.

The Great unmainfested, is manifest in everything, including the small, especially the small.

 

It is through the ordinary manifestation of the One that it’s true

Heart and meaning is able to shine through.

 

Honor all “things” as part of the Creator

Made touchable, reachable, and real.

 

Ceremonies and traditions, ways of honoring the small things, act

As symbols and representations of caring for the One all-pervasive energy, the Creator.

 

Everywhere I look I see evidence of this truth.

When I open my eyes each morning, I acknowledge and honor the new day’s creation.

 

A new beginning with each sunrise, with each chime of the cuckoo clock,

As the new born light angles across my bed and bedroom walls.

 

My breakfast food of sweet potatoes and spinach

Lies in splendor on the golden yellow dish.

 

The lightly colored beautiful orange sweet potatoes shine

In stark contrast to the dark green warmth of the spinach.

 

They are contrasts in wholeness, beautiful small things to be honored and appreciated.

As is the tea steaming in my tea mug which shares the mug’s space and honors its useful emptiness, tea honoring mug honoring tea.

 

The shower water’s warmth and the soap’s scent of softness and peace

Honor my body and I honor their usefulness and dedication to service without selfishness.

 

And with each step and in each and every place I go throughout the day,

I try to take the time, maybe only a second or two, to notice and honor the small things.

 

After all, I am a small thing too.

 

Inner Stillness in Predawn Darkness

There is inner stillness in the predawn darkness as

The forest begins to stir around me.

 

They seem to notice my presence

“Someone is among us”, they mummer.

 

As I sit in silence and wait,

The Eastern sky begins to lighten and

 

The earth responds with movement,

Air movement, a stirring, ever so slight and gentle,

 

More sensed than felt.

I continue to sit in silence and wait.

 

At last I can feel them coming closer, one by one.

Not in outer distance but in inner peace.

 

As they circle me I can feel them saying “Welcome”.

They bring such wisdom in their silence.

Such kindness without motion or audible voice

 

But a voice nonetheless, a voice that is felt with the soul

Not heard with the ears.

 

A voice that is eons old, no, older than that:

A voice that has existed since the beginning of time.

 

Since the time before manifestation.

Their voices speak to me in the sweet darkness of the woods

 

Telling me a tale of love, acceptance and kindness.

A story of life, of the essences of loss and the pain of suffering,

 

Of the agony of misunderstanding and mind induced perceptions, and

Selfish longings and needs: all of my own making.

 

But there is sympathy and empathy in these voices too, they know the pain,

They have felt the suffering, tasted the tears and watched their own hearts melt with disappointment.

 

The agony of loss is no stranger to their collective heart, so they truly understand my

State of mind today and give me comfort and love in a way only they can.

 

They know how I miss he who passed through the veil, they know him and he them. They are one together and it is his presence they allow me to feel here in this mourning morning softness.

 

The trees are my saviors; they surround me with their gentle strength and hold me in their arms

In the hardest of times, they understand without judgment, they feel my heart beat with theirs

 

As they stand together – silent sentinels of everlasting light and hope in

Noble silence and truth.

 

I am renewed by their strength, honored by their kindness and

Forever grateful for their love.

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It Doesn’t Matter

Don’t tell me you can’t,

Can’t is a lie

Can’t is a choice

Tell me you won’t

At least that is honest. 

You can, I know you can.

You have before, or was

That a won’t, or maybe just a should.

Could always be a should and

Maybe even a won’t too but,

There is always that “but”.

Always that lie.

Always the “I can’t”.

But this time it doesn’t matter because,

I won’t.