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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The Other Side

It is a hard, windy January night.

The dark is deepest this time of year with

The forest asleep, the sky swift, the stars icy and

The snow hard and crunchy under vacant feet.

For now, I am safe on this side of the frosted glass.

But later, when my eyes close, the cold will sneak in and hold me captive in its icy grip.

It will seep into my dreams and turn my tears to ice.

It will remind me of the coldness on the other side and of that empty space in my heart.

The one that used to be filled by you.

The Soulscape of My Heart

Outcroppings of rock and

Lichen covered pinnacles of grandeur are

God’s favorite places.

Here he lets us see,

Lets us in on the secret of what makes him happy.

His eyes sculpted the mountains with a glance,

His hands scooped the valleys with ease giving light and dark a place to play.

His breath still powers the winds that sail and howl over the cliffs

And stir the hearts of human kind.

The mountains are God’s sacred place and

A place where I go to feel His power,

To be closer to heaven

To touch and feel His love.

He exists forever in the hard landscape of rock and

In the soft soulscape of my heart.

The One that Became the Last

 

The sky is happy to hold you,

While the earth and I still mourn your leaving.

They say that time heals but all these years have not healed my heart and

The emptiness of your absence remains strong within me and here in this place,

 

Although this field where I stand remains the eternal now

As it was when you and I walked here together.

The scent of its grass brings my heart and memory back to you every time and

Makes me wonder if the flowers blooming here remember our footsteps and loving among them?

I visit here often and breathe in the scent of this place and remember what it held for us, just you and me, and then I hide behind that memory’s peace where my heart is soothed, but only for just a while.

And at sunset, sadness returns again to dampen the grass and hold still my heartbeat in that remembrance.

Yet despite the passage of time and depth of my sorrow, this place appears to be unchanged

From when we walked its paths together, hand in hand as if we had all the time in the world.

But when I look deeper, I know it is unchanged on the surface only and, like me,

Still holds its breath and waits, and sighs and wonders why…

Why does the sky get to hold you so close while it and my heart long for your footsteps,

The sound of your voice, the scent of your skin, and the light of your smile?

The answer never comes and as

The sun sets and the horizon grows dark

And takes you away from me, again,

 I wonder…

Do you remember the first time?

The one that became the last?

Star Soul

Star shine drips from the night sky and runs along the naked winter tree branches like syrup

Leaving iridescent trails of silver to wrap around the rough barked trunks.

The sliver shine lights my way

As it spills star souls on the forest floor and

While I follow the star trails, eons pass in an instant and eternity sleeps

In the soft warm glow of acceptance and starlight.

The cold surrounds my soul and heart in these winter depths but the

Dense air adds clarity to my vision as I walk the trails of stars.

They take me to a different place, a place at once new and ancient,

A place to observe all in silence while cloaked in the winter wood.

I see mosses hold their breath in the glow of the star-flow and hear them whispering their secrets to a silent waiting cosmos while holding tightly to the trunks of the trees.

Late geese fly across the moon, their cries urgent in the night sky

Confused by the uncommon shimmering silver ground below.

I am not alone in this realm of silver winter as

The forest is full of the souls and spirits of summer’s love.

I feel them all around me, darting in and out of tree shadows,

Stopping to watch me from behind drifts of truth and light.

The discarded autumn leaves warm the soil beneath the drifts

And life waits in patient stillness.

My mind becomes as still as the waiting life as I travel the empty space between the stars reflected in the snow’s white depth.

There is no urgency in me or in this place

Only the beauty and silence of peace and star light.

The winter forest is a secret,

A complete world in and of itself hiding in plain sight.

Its silence a decoy to protect its love lying safe and secure underground.

Go to the forest; breathe in the silent dripping starshine,

Follow the starlight as it traces the outline your soul.

Blend with the magic of the forest as

It is only there under the canopy of eternity that you can become as silent and still

As the dense crisp air surrounding you and once again, as in the beginning,

Go home to that place within that holds you in the soft silver glow of now and

Within that silent place returns you to wholeness.

The soul of the winter forest knows and understands you.

She is waiting for your return.

Just One More Time

Early Autumn thunder,

The thinning tree leaves let it in.

Their resistance is weaker, less resilient.

They nod their heads in confusion and look to each other for explanation as

Thunder rocks their roots and

Lightening sparkles in the air around them.

It is an unusual storm for Autumn as it

Comes in on strong northwest winds with the violence of a humid August storm,

As if needing to prove its might just one more time before

Winter’s cold takes its strength away.

Each season’s change is a mix of the one before and the one to come.

No wonder the trees look confused.