My Mind

In the beginning, my beginning, my mind

Was my friend, my ally, my confidant, but no more.

My mind has become my enemy,

One that shares this space inside of me but cares not for my well-being.

Its thoughts turn night into day, lust into love, and want into envy.

It whispers its lies in my ear, distracting me from my truth.

I need to fight back and spend more time sitting and focusing on my

Return to that initial, eternal mind of being.

In time, when the process is complete,

My mind will return to its beginning state as my life navigator and soul companion.

Its taunting will stop, its search for drama will cease,

Its remembering of a hundred hurtful events a day will end,

And once again, as it was in the beginning,

It will be my friend.

Milkweed and Fireflies

The heavenly scent from the milkweed blossoms feeds my senses,

And the dew-soaked field sings to me in words unspoken.

 

The sweet summer night wind is alive with twinkling lights and

Fireflies sparkle in the humid mist, rivaling the stars.

 

He and I are are brought here together by light and love and once again

Drink in the sweetness of a night kissed promise.

 

We have no need for words in this place of wind and Chi,

And exist together in silence among the night flowers glowing with starshine.

 

I feel his words,

I see  his emotions…

 

I dissolve in the star-shine with him and once again,

He and I are one with the night sky and the field of flowers.

 

Nothing brings him closer to me;

Nothing brings me closer to his heart.

 

In love we once more share the beauty of darkness

And walk together in this field of light at night,

 

But our time is short as the morning always comes and with it

The sun’s light to melt our magic.

 

So together we face the heartbreak at sunrise and say goodbye again as

The sun evaporates the dew,

 

Smothers my tears,

And leaves me in this place, alone.

 

 

Watcher of the Woods

From my bedroom window

I watch the woodland change with the seasons.

On the corner of the house, a maple branch hugs the windowsill

Its leaves framing my view of the forest.

How can I explain the secret life of leaves I observe from my window and the

Magical growth that takes place in silence unseen?

I can think of no words to use, so instead I just watch, I watch the breeze

ruffle the leaves and the branches move together in the wind like fans made of feathers.

And then the rain comes, and I watch the drops play the

Leaves like keys on a piano.

I am content with my role as watcher and marvel at the strength and skill the trees employ when they interlock their arms to form an impenetrable force of gentle power in silence.

These graceful tree spirits are woven together by the hand of God to create

The framework of the forest.

They surround my home and speak to my soul.

My heart hears their thoughts and hopes,

And I realize and know that they are

Not so different from me.

I understand and accept that we share this planet and are

Children of the One in all our varied forms.

All connected,

All equal in the eyes of our creator.

And the peace and stillness of the wood

pervades my soul and feeds my spirit and makes me one with those who stand outside looking in.

Holders of Stars

I have joined my sisters and retreated.

Back and back to the very beginning,

Not just my beginning but yours, ours.

Back to when the sacredness of women was honored.

A time when it was known and valued that women were

The givers of life and holders of stars.

Society has changed over the years, but in our hearts there remains

An understanding of the continuity of our original place and purpose.

We know that we are not in or of this world

But exist in our eternal beingness.

We are awake and are coming back to claim our rightful place.

The past is remembered in our collective consciousness and it is with renewed Courage and strength that we again dance in the forest,

And the forest dances in us.

Once more the mountains and ocean belong to us,

And we to them.

Our renewed story is a recognition of our eternal story.

It is the story of our connection to the divine,

Not one limited to any certain place or time but a story for all eternity.

The same eternity that resides in a milkweed bloom, a bird’s egg,

A baby’s laugh, and our hearts.

And although our voices remain soft and gentle, we will no longer be silenced.

We are not done with this world and

The writing of our collective story will never be finished

As it has no beginning or end.

Our time is now and together we will step out of time one by one and

Rejoin our story where we were forced out of it years ago.

We are still the givers of life and

The holders of stars.

Sacred women once more,

As one voice and mind.

Together again and always.

Both

Why does dark seem heavy while light is, well, light?
Is one easier to carry than the other?
Dark seems to have weight,
Light doesn’t.
Dark holds you back but
Light lights your way.
There is a dark night of the soul
But joy in the morning light.
Night’s darkness surrounds my little cottage
Making its windows shine from within.
Life’s darkness surrounds my soul making my heart shine from within.
I cannot have one without the other.
I am thankful for both.

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 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?