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?
“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.
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.
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 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?
My little heart keeps asking me “why?”
I hear her tiny voice in the quiet early morning hours,
but I have no answer for her.
She has stayed up all night again.
Thinking about the past, feeling the pain and sorrow of the now.
She has fallen into a deep dark pit,
Her little voice echos off the steep, cold sides.
I keep reaching out to her but her tiny hands
Have not the strength to hold on.
So she sinks back to the bottom and
Remains in sorrow and darkness.
It is so painful to witness this.
She used to be such a happy little thing,
Always positive, always trusting.
Albeit, sometimes a bit too naive for her own good,
But it was a naiveté not based on stupidity or ignorance but
One based on a choice to trust and believe in spite of the red flags not to.
I am afraid for her, she is tired and there are
Beasts down there with her in the darkness.
They are evil, heartless beasts who lie to her,
Who tell her she is not good enough, that she is unlovable and a fool.
They sneak in while she sleeps and
Whisper doubts in her ear.
I keep trying to tell her to be strong and not listen to their lies,
But I don’t think she can hear me yet.
So, I wait on the edge of the pit
With an open mind and open hand to catch her the next time she climbs to within my reach.
I don’t mind waiting.
I know she will try again soon in spite of her pain and sorrow.
I have faith in her – she is not a quitter.
I know that I love what I love.
My passions are many.
The sound of thunder ignites my soul.
The scent of simmering soup warms my heart.
My passion overflows for clear glass bowls and jars,
Shelves full of home-grown goodness,
Baby smiles and sighs,
Forest trees and critters,
Gardens full of life and love,
Friends and family,
Krishna’s promise of another day of light and joy and
My lover’s heartbeat at midnight.
My passions consume my heart and fill my soul and body
Leaving no room for sadness and negative thoughts as
I have no passion left for them.
The forest is different now,
Everything has changed.
The sky’s blue is colder,
The north wind is stronger, and
The trees’ summer green has faded.
Their leaves, lighter green now, are studded with hints of red and gold, brown and yellow.
My garden plants are lying over
As if to say “enough”.
They are entitled, they have given me all they can.
But nasturtiums, marigolds and impatients are troopers and refuse to let go.
They will stay strong until the frost’s icy fingers drag them down to rejoin the earth and sleep.
Summer’ song birds have long since flown away, and in their absence
All I hear are the crickets and the crows.
Autumn evenings are chilly and quiet, the silence broken by the occasional lonely bark of a fox and the haunting calls of the owls.
Heavy wind chimes hanging in my forest have been silent all summer but
Now sing with the strength of autumn winds while thistle down floats by in layers of life to be.
This season between the seasons is one of slow change but with an inevitable end.
There is no turning back, no chance to stay and nowhere else to go.
But in spite of this certainty, there is no turmoil, no angst or resistance among the trees and flowers for they know
This is how it should be, how it must be,
How it has always been.
One season losing its grip and
Sliding gently into the next.
My hands are softer now,
More wrinkled but softer.
The physical strength of youth has faded
But the strength of endurance has remained.
Life is softer now too,
Also more wrinkled but softer.
Youth’s sharp edges have been dulled,
Made safer by times wearing.
Just as water over rocks smooths and polishes them,
My physical shape too changes with time but
My inner song remains the same.
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