Passions

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.

I Am Here

I am finally, totally, here and I will never leave you.

You don’t ever have to be lonely or afraid again.

I am here.

Through the years I have come and gone.

Sometimes stayed close, but sometimes stayed away.

At times I was lost to you in this secular world,

Tied up by my thoughts and indifference.

But a change has come, an awakening. 

It has happened slowing, in subtle ways and small steps and now,

I am here.

I will hold you while you sleep.

I will witness your dreams and shoo away your nightmares.

I will hold your heart and put its broken pieces back together.

You will never be away from me again.

I am here.

It will be just you and me now, you and me forever.

There is duality but no separation as I have come home to the place I never left.

Back to the heart that has been the same

Throughout all time.

I am here.

I will finally step into the job that was mine

All along.

I will be your protector, your biggest fan, your patient teacher

And, most of all, your greatest love.

I am here.

I am sorry you have suffered, have been abused, unloved and broken.

I have learned that you are defenseless against the world without me, so now,

I am here.

Here with clarity, purpose, vision, emptiness, power and love.

  Never to leave you again.

To do so would be impossible because I now see that I am you, I am your heart and soul, your “I Am” with no beginning and no end.

You are my vehicle for experiencing the world, for sensing and knowing the manifested arising from the un-manifested.

  You are my beating heart, my body friend and my charge to protect.

  You are my very own

human—being.

Extraordinary

Be extraordinary in your ordinariness and

Marvel in the beauty of everyday blessings.

Notice how snow piles up in leeward corners of windows during a storm

And the rings raindrops make in puddles.

Admire the spirit of sunflower seeds sprouting in

October under the bird feeders.

Let the sparkling morning spider webs on

Summer grass fill your eyes with the freshness of love.

Feel the sweetness of warm, wet, baby kisses and

Hear the snap of clean linens on a spring morning clothesline.

Watch and listen for the ordinary ways God speaks to us

A million times a day and see …

Bees dancing on pebbles in the bird bath and

Crisp autumn leaves ringed with October morning frost.

Hear a Wood Thrush’s echoing, haunting song at dusk and

Watch clear glass jars and white porcelain bowls dry on the kitchen counter.

Notice frost fingers splayed across winter windows and

Soak in steaming soup on a cold December day.

Marvel how sun sparkles on freshly fallen snow and

Baby sighs in the night.

Drink in the light in your lover’s eyes and

Savor his sweet kisses at midnight.

Smile at the tea balls ringing like temple bells in the silverware drawer and

A ring of stainless steal measuring spoons in a baby’s fist.

All just ordinary things but extraordinary in their beauty and simplicity,

Just like you and me.

 

2/5/17

 

The Stones Will Remember (March, 2017)

 

Evening shadows shift

Through broken windows.

 

Chimney bricks slide down the roof

Puddleing under the lilac bush.

 

Weeds spread into the driveway

Reclaiming it for themselves.

 

When was this house built?

Was it ever new?

 

The yard and doorframes bear witness

To the families who grew here.

 

Long forgotten toys and broken swings

Hide beneath the matted field grass.

 

A broken clothesline flaps in the gray autumn breeze and

Sprung clothespins mold and rot into the ground beneath the broken posts.

 

Feral cats are now the only life that calls this old farm home,

But birdsong still fills the rafters of the barn.

 

The barn that once held livestock

Sits shifted on its foundation,

 

Listing and leaning to the south,

Away from winter’s fierce winds.

 

The stately oak gracing the front yard is rotten and broken,

Its fingers through the house roof.

 

Where did they go, the people

Who called this place home?

 

When the last one left,

Why didn’t they clean out the house?

 

Why not take the toys?

Close the windows? Lock the doors?

 

Did they not know they were

Never coming back?

 

The windmill out back has long ago

Crashed into the apple orchard,

 

Breaking in to pieces as it fell

and crushing the trees it had stood watch over all these years.

 

But in man’s absence

The apple trees continue to produce.

 

The lilac bushes flower every spring in spite of

Not being “cared for” in over 40 years.

 

The forest is slowing creeping back in to fill the void

Left when the field was abandoned.

 

All that remains of the people who once called this spot of land home

Is the family graveyard,

 

Where stones are carved with love and care,

Preserving for all time the names and dates of those whose lives began and ended here.

 

But the lilacs don’t care about being preserved,

The Oak is beyond pride and the buildings are slowly returning to the soil,

 

Just like the bodies beneath the stones.

Another 40 years and the stones will be all that remains.

 

They will be all that is left to tell the story

Of a time gone by.

 

The story of a house built to last a lifetime, a barn crafted with pride,

The story of generations of a family who lived, worked and died on this land.

 

A story only the stones will remember.
 

My Child Self (still there, inside, waiting)

 

Sad little girl,

Come, sit with me.

Let me hold you, dry your tears,

Kiss your sweet little face.

I know you are hurt, I understand, I see her,

I see how she is, how she treats you.

Come and sit close, you can trust me,

I will protect you; there is no hurting here.

I know you are too little to understand, and

Too innocent to see the shame and fear she holds inside.

All you know is the pain of her betrayal.

I know and see how hard you try to please her, yet still she is hateful and mean.

I hear her tell you daily that you are not good enough, are funny looking and how she wishes she had never given birth to you.

I see and feel your pain and frustration, and

It breaks my heart to watch this happen to us.

I have learned and grown while you have waited and now the time has come

For me to come back in time to you, to a time when we were one.

Look for me and don’t be afraid, come close and I will read you a story,

I know she never did.

I will hold you like my baby and sing your sorrows to sleep,

She didn’t know how.

I will show you that you are better than good enough, and

I will prove to you that there is nothing wrong with you, in spite of what she said.

You will never be alone again,

The wait is over.

Trust me my child-self,

I have enough love for both of us, I pinky-promise.

 

 

After re-reading this post it has finally dawned on me why my anger and hurt at being neglected is still so strong… that was my punishment as a child for not being what my mother wanted me to be…. first she would yell at me and then she would ignore me, not speak to me for days at a time, and when she finally did, it was only to affirm how worthless I was… my husband treated me the same way, and so did other men in my life… unbelievable… so wrong and so sad for that little girl who still lives in my heart.

Because of Him

 

Gratitude for the smallest 

Becomes gratitude for the eternal,

Because the eternal exists in even the smallest of things,

Like a baby’s smile, a milkweed bloom, and crystal blue winter skies.

An autumn leaf, falling softly and quietly,

Releases its life full of gratitude willingly in a celebration of color,  it knows.

It is the smallest of things in my life that cover me in warmth and

Feed the fire of my gratitude with love.

I am thankful for sunrises and sunsets,

The defining moments of each day’s beginning and end.

I am grateful for my children and grandchildren and friends –

All manifestations of God.

Even the light in the eyes of the the wild ones of my forest home

Shines with the spirit of the heavens and the intimate knowledge of Krishna’s grace.

And when I am in danger of forgetting these things, these perfect and beautiful things,

something as simple as seeing my clear glass canning jars, standing in a sparkling row,

Can bring me back to myself, to my home,

The home I hold deep within, the one that holds the essence of me.

It is my gratefulness that fuels my passions for the loves in my life, from acorns to hummingbirds

Grasshoppers to lightning storms,

Soft kisses at midnight,

And sweet love in the morning.

I am grateful to exist in a flood of grace and love.

Grace that is endless and effortless, and love that is freeing and all encompassing.

My heart is full and my smiles are because of him.

Hari Om

Changes

Changes are not always positive

Or swift.

Some drag, leaving behind a trail

Of sorrow.

Some move quickly, leaving no time to dwell

In the past.

Some changes are painful but for the better.

Some are just the way it is, neither good nor bad.

We decide which way to go, to let go

And move on or stay stuck, resisting the change.

I don’t know which is harder to do….

I think it depends in a large part on the nature of the change…

Change happens with or without my permission.

Me and you are not the same people we were just moments ago.

The cosmos has reinvented itself a thousand times in the last ten minutes.

So change is common, a fact of life and existence so why do our

Human situational changes sometimes linger

Beyond what they should and so become more important than they really are?

Even a change brought about by me is hard to handle.  It is a step away from what has been and a step into a new future, a good future, a better place within me, yet unsettling nonetheless.

And although change is inevitable, there are consistencies in my life for me to lean on and appreciate in the face of change…

Tomorrow will still come, the sun will rise and shine through my soul and soften the pain that still lingers.

The hoots of the owls in the forest outside my window will strengthen my heart as morning turns to day and the thoughts in my head turn towards the goodness and excitement of the life changes before me.

In spite of uncertainty, these changes are good.  The dark past has settled and sunken to the bottom of my soul where it will always remain, never forgotten, but will no longer be able to hold me captive in its cold grip.  It’s and his falseness and deceptive nature have been fully exposed and rejected.

So the change that has come is the right one.  It is long overdue, and although still painful, it is welcome.

My heart has changed, my livelihood is about to as well after which I will embark on a journey into an unknown future where I will accept whatever may come in this moment.

I will turn my focus inward where things can and will change for the better for me and all those I love…. everyone.

Nostalgia

Nostalgia, longing,

Is that what they call that slow, sad ache in my chest?

 

I get it when I think of my distant past,

My childhood, those days of security and family.

 

Parents who took care of everything, a father who was

Always there and the most honest man I have ever known.

 

The nostalgic pain is refreshed when I go on line and look at

Pictures of the town I grew up in and the memories they bring.

 

Today I am sitting in my writing desk listening to an infomercial on the tv in the other room.

It is an ad for recordings of love songs of the last 50 years, the nostalgic ache is as great as the music is beautiful.

 

A Time/Life collection of love songs from the past a few of which are:  “At Last” by Etta James, “Stardust” by Nat King Cole, “Chances Are” by Jonny Mathis, and one of my very favorites “What a Beautiful World” by Louis Armstrong.  Where have all the good love songs gone?

Are they gone because love isn’t the same today as it was then?  Is it because sex means nothing more than a bodily function to most people? Are people really that difference now than they were in the recent past, or do they just not know any better?

Have we changed so much that love and sex are not personal or important anymore?  I hope not although that is the way it seems more and more.

But I refuse to believe it even though I have loved and surrendered myself, all of me in truth to three men in my life and have been used and left behind by each of them.

Did I expect too much, expect them to be more than they are capable of? And was the past really so much better or have I painted it with unrealistic and romanticized memories based on songs?  I don’t know, maybe.

But I remember my dad dancing with my mom in the living room, and I remember him telling me that there was no greater job to be done in this world than the one my mother did taking care of us and our home.

He lived and treated us and everyone in his life with respect and love.  My ideas on how things should be are greatly influenced by him, and for that I am thankful.

Maybe it is because of him that my disappointments of the past and the most recent one have so deeply affected me, my dad is a hard act to follow.

But on the other hand it is because of the things he taught me that I will try to keep my heart open in the hope that maybe somewhere out there is a man who remembers the old love songs and what they really meant.
A man who is open to love and trust, understanding and compassion.  I’m sure he exists; I just don’t know where to find him.

 

A 4 a.m. awakening – a burst of light in the darkness, finally…

I have not been mistaken,

It is the real him that I see,

 

The one behind the addiction.

The addiction is not who he is.

 

I love the real man and there in is were this intense pain and sadness is coming from.

I thought my pain had been for myself, my disappointment in him and me, how could I, the real me, have loved someone so dishonest, so capable of such deception.

 

What was wrong with me?   Now I realize my sadness and pain is because the man I love does exist beneath the addiction and my tears are for that man, the one trapped in his own sorrow.

 

I see what is behind all of this, maybe more than he sees himself

And that is why I cry,

 

It is when my mind is most still that my tears flow the most freely.

They bubble to the surface with ease when my mind is free and calm, the truth shines through, not to be ignored or mistaken for what it is not.

 

That is why the pain and sadness are so strong; they come from the stillness within me, from the depths of my soul, the place of wordlessness, the place of no mind, the very essence of my Being.

 

The intensity of this emptiness was overwhelming but now it is filled with love, complete and whole, compassion for self and others and a connection to everything. It is the same connection I have always felt but now it is set to the music of the universal consciousness.

 

A 4 a.m. awakening – a burst of light in the darkness, finally…

 

I can’t deny these emotions; to do so would be to bury them in an unhealthy way. They are real; my body says it is so.

 

They have a right to a place in me, in my being. They are what make me human but not what make me me.

 

The first step to dealing with them is to know and see

From where they come.

 

The tide of sorrow flows thorough me, from my head to my toes and oscillates between low and high continuously much like the natural rhythms of the tides and seasons.

 

My mind’s perception of this flow causes my suffering. Pain in life is inevitable; suffering with it is up to me.

 

A shift to no thought makes all the difference, my love for him is not a bad thing, something to get rid of, to fight with, to kill off, no, it is a part of me, a valuable part.

 

My ability to love in spite of all this deception is a strength, not a weakness. I have been consumed with this drowning sadness because my mind viewed this love as a failure, as an obstacle to overcome, as something I was doing wrong, as my fault for trusting, loving, but this love was not and is not a mistake.

 

Instead it is a testament to the real me, beyond my mind, beneath my mind, deeper than anything my mind can throw at me. My mind cannot deceive me any longer. I will not allow it to. I am the watcher, the observer of this madness.

 

To love is always good; truly loving not with the mind but with the soul is the essence of goodness and light.

 

He is a prisoner of himself.

What his soul seeks his mind confounds and that I feel is the essence of my sadness and heartache for him.

 

I have been confused by why this pain and sorrow is so deep and has such a grip on my soul, but now I understand. While my understanding doesn’t lessen the intensity of the emotion, it does give it a frame and boundary and by my awakening, my mind’s control is removed.

 

The why is no longer important, the endless scenarios of the past can stop torturing me, the prophecies of a sad and dismal further can be put to rest. The love is not gone, it never will be because it is soul deep and now it has found its place to rest within my heart and my peace has been restored.

 

I don’t have to stop loving him, I never will, this love is held close to my heart and will be forever.   Whether this truth matters to him or not, I may never know.

 

But as much as my mind would like to know and would like to be with him, the watcher knows better and will hold and comfort my being with a love greater than my mind can ever understand,

 

And that will make all the difference.