Touching, Holding (repost from 2/15)

I loved touching him

I loved being touched

I loved holding him

I loved being held

I loved kissing him

I loved being kissed

I loved loving him

I loved being loved

But now he is gone

He has walked away and

Taken with him the

Touching

Holding

Kissing

Loving

The once warm darkness

Is now empty and cold.

His love is gone, but mine remains

The remembrance is all that is left

The sadness complete

2/12/15

MC

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,

We were wondering when you would come”.

 

“We are drawing closer to protect you,

We sense your weakness; we give you our collective strength.

 

Take us as we are as we you, you must know by now that

Your heart is not alone here and never has been”.

 

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 voice speaks 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, the pain of suffering

 

The agony of misunderstanding, of mind induced perceptions and

Selfish longings and needs.

 

But there is sympathy and empathy in this voice too because 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.

 

2/1/16

A Celebration of Light and Love

Embrace the feminine,

Rejoin the world of light and shadow.

My sisters await,

I have been gone too long.

But they are patient, their rhythmic drumming continues,

A call for wisdom to those who have come before.

The drums awaken in our souls the

Primal sounds of life.

Listen to the crows cry in morning

Listen to the night sounds resonate with the vibrations of life.

Brook and sky

Flow together in harmony.

My soul reunites with my heart.

My place is remembered and rejoined.

My heart is endless, and knows no time or place,

It retains a place for him.

He who completes the connection,

Body and soul as no other can.

But I have learned, that to desert myself,

To love so completely that I lose myself

Is not what it is meant to be.

My love must complement who I am

Not become who I am.

My love for him is eternal,

It takes up no space and has no limits but

I will not allow it to consume me.

If only he could know, could feel as I do,

Our love would be as it was intended, the connection would be complete.

The space between us would dissolve into vapor and

We would be one in harmony with earth and sky.

Together

And the crows would cry at sunrise

And the night sounds would resonate with the sound of my sisters singing and drumming in celebration of light and love, love as it should be.

2/11/15

MC

I wrote this for him last year, a lovely fantasy, very lovely but equally lonely…

The Light Everlasting

What is it trying to tell me?
Anything?

 

The quote in the window,

The quick car in the night.

 

Is it all in my head?

Probably.

 

But if not, what is trying to break through,

Break into this world through me and why show me if it isn’t real…no, I have to stop thinking…

 

I need to see the moon lit patterns of white and shadow on the snow and hear how they speak to me.

The chimes are calling me again from the silence of my soul to look, listen, observe.

 

I need to hear the hungry owl’s cries in the night, feel its silent wings move swiftly in the darkness,

Too swiftly for its pray and watch with detachment the

 

Swift death, natural and inevitable but made a villain

By my thoughts.

 

I need to leave these thoughts and become

Stillness in the chaos, I need to reenter the silent swiftness of the owl’s wings and moon shadows.

 

For It is the only place to be and

The only place I have ever existed.

 

My being had begun to seep away while I was preoccupied,

Distracted by the other, the unnatural, the evil of my own making.

 

But the owl’s wings are bringing me home now,

My time of regression is waning but it has taken its toll.

 

My heart is weaker, my thoughts harder to read.

There is no regressing without damage to me and the object of the cause.

 

Solitude and stillness, as the getaway to the road back are coming into view…

The road to the place of reclamation of my soul,

 

Back to the essence of bliss, the light everlasting and

The hand in mine.

Perspective

 

What is this need,

This longing.

This emptiness that

Wants to be filled.

Wanting is the key,

Necessity is a luxury.

To feel the depth,

The inward spiral

Taking me down through the darkness,

Back into the light.

But now the light is warm

As the darkness once was.

A shift in perspective,

Leaves the darkness behind,

Softens the wrong.

2/14/15

MC

(I wrote this almost a year ago, after the first time he left me and then he came back and I was very happy, for a time but then he left again.  I was never what he wanted, just someone to fill the space inside until, until what, I don’t know… and now?)

Curtis Field in Winter (originally posted 2/27/15)

 

Waves of white,

Dunes of snow.

 

A magical expanse

Of openness and light.

 

Wind swirls the

Snow in columns,

 

Leaving patterns of circles

In their wake.

 

The wind howls in eerie

Cries of loneliness and desperation.

 

All life is kept covered

Awaiting the sun,

 

Resting in the silence

And stillness of cold.

 

A ring of trees keeps watch

And defines the space.

 

I sit in the snow and sing.

My song resonates in the emptiness changing forever the space within.

 

This place fills me

And I am empty no more.

 

 

Dissolving

I sit, candlelight flickering

Through my eyelids.

 

The skylight reflects the candlelight back to me,

And the new moon back to the moon.

 

The night landscape is dark,

Cold and endless.

 

I am cold and endless as I rise above the candle.

The wind blows my hair and chills my bones.

 

My eyes scan the dark earth.

Fields lie in wait, trees sleep.

 

Hills role on to hills,

And night sky meets night wood.

 

My body and gaze rise above

The wood to the sky.

 

Dark joining dark,

Points of light joining points of light.

 

In the darkness there is no separation of earth and sky.

In my darkness there is no separation.

 

The flicker of candlelight

Through the skylight fades with distance.

 

The quiet and dark become who I am,

All encompassing, all inclusive, comforting

All dissolving into one.

An Evening With Eckhart…

I am trying something difference, a break from poetry and an attempt at expressing some of my thoughts in a difference forum…  this is the first part of my thoughts and notes on an evening with Eckhart Tolle, more to come…     

 

Last evening, after a yoga class of silent gentleness under the guidance of a good friend, I prepared my dinner and sat down to watch the first two hours of a presentation by Eckhart Tolle. Filmed at a retreat he conducted in Findhorn Scotland.

As he walked onto the stage, I was struck once again by his unassuming presence, by his humble attitude, his grace

He started off so quietly I had to repeatedly turn up the volume on my tv. His words seemed hard to come at first, requiring silent stillness but as he progressed his passion and humor became clearer and his words increased in volume and fluidity.

Taking notes on his presentations is difficult for me. He will say something so profound that I have to get it down but while doing so I am afraid I will miss some other bit of his wisdom consequently my notes are half sentences, key words only, and it is left to my memory to fill in the blanks later. Sometimes I succeed, sometimes not so much! So what follows is my take on what he presented, on what I took away from the two hours, taken from his words but mostly written in mine. The things he spoke of that resonated with me and made me rush to my desk to write them down are things I have thought on before, things I have noticed but not always had words to describe, things that perhaps needed no wordy or worldly descriptions.

I am attracted to scared places, they are places you can feel, places that call out to you, appeal to a part of you deep inside, sometimes for no reason you can put your finger on. Why this place and not the other? They are called “thin places”. Places where the veil separating this world from the next has been lifted momentarily or has become “thin”. It is in these thin places that the light of the Being, the one creator, the universal energy, the un-manifested, is able to shine through. Its presence draws us to it as a summer porch light draws moths. Even those who don’t know, who never stop thinking, feel this presence, albeit if only momentarily, before their thoughts and distracted ego influenced minds regain the upper hand and shut down the Being as if someone turned off the porch light.

I have two thin places, one I visit frequently. I call it the Land of Wind and Chi. It is a multi-acre field, a nature preserve of sorts supported by a bottling company and a town government. Probably not what one would traditional call a typical candidate for a thin place, if there is any such criteria to be met, but it is a land that speaks to me, to me and a dear friend I used to spend time with there, he felt it too. I can sit there for hours, deep into my meditation, and feel the vibrations coming from the earth and the sky. The grasses and milkweed plants interact together and sing to the melodies of the wind. The sun is warmer there, the air clearer, the storms more violent, the peace more powerful, the now more present. My other thin place is the cull between two mountains in New Hampshire, another place of vibrant air alive with the vibrations of the force that created the mountains, that separated them from the sea and sky. A place where wind howls and lichens grow low and close to the rocks. A place where I could sit for eternity and want for nothing else because what is inside me is all around the outside of me there. Keeping those thin places with me wherever I go is what Eckhart is showing me how to do.

Our lives are a struggle because we are trapped in our thoughts, our story, our minds and egos, instead of in the Now. Everything happens in the now, even death, when it comes, will happen Now.  Our minds are accomplished tail tellers, they craft and create our story and lead us to believe that without our story we are nobody. Nobody is an odd choice of word here, taken on its face it would seem that “nobody” would be a wonderful thing, a being with no body or “form”. But we, in our egoism, don’t see it that way. Our minds fight and plan and deceive to keep our perception of ourselves and others perceptions of us in the spotlight. We need to feel that we are special and how do we do that? By making others seem less. By feeling superior to others, they lose so we can win, we are right so they have to be wrong. The mind is always shifting and changing its “mind” to fit our egos perception of the need for us to feel superior. Even when playing the victim our very victimness makes us special so as Eckhart says, even when you lose, according to the mind and ego you win because your loss makes you special. Your loss gives you a story and to our minds and egos, we are our story, therefore our story is our identity.

Our story gives our mind a life, a definition of who we are, albeit a false one but that is not the realm of the mind, it is not concerned with the truth of being. That would be too scary, to lose oneself to find oneself. It is not a concept our intelligence or thinking mind can rest on. Our minds project to us an image that we are not good enough, not enough in any way thereby creating our need for more, more money, more fame, more people who care about us, more of everything we think we need to be happy. My mind tells me that I am not happy because of something that happened in the past or something that has not happened. This way of thinking keeps me trapped in the realm of form, not in the essence of being. All form is impermanent, our physical form as well, something our egos and minds reject. And it is when we are distracted, when something happens to make us shut off those thoughts, whether voluntarily or not, that the true essence of who we are, the Being separate from thoughts and ego, is able to shine through. Most often these episodes of shine are fleeting, momentary, unplanned but they are enough to show the unsuspecting that there exists a different kind of being, one not based on form or thought. It may take many such episodes for the unsuspecting to become suspecting, but it is a start.

To be continued…

Winter White

Winter mornings,

Cold, gray skies

 

Weep snowflakes in

Drifts of white.

 

Tree branches are outlined with

Each twig and bud coated in white.

 

The evergreen’s frosted tips are decorations done by

The Creator’s loving hands.

 

Isn’t it wonderful how rain drops turn white when they freeze, nice touch God!

The Creator has a flair for external decorating!

 

Cardinals come to my birdfeeders in January

And perch in the nearby evergreens to eat their breakfast.

 

A perfect Christmas card picture

Naturally created in red, white and green.

 

Chickadees wear their little black caps all winter, eat their fill at the birdfeeders,

And gather in groups at the bottom of winter’s abandoned bird houses to keep warm.

 

Squirrels sit in my window boxes eating stolen bird seeds

And watch me through the window watching them.

 

Their little ears and eyes ever alert and twitching.

Danger could be lurking behind every snow back and tree trunk.

 

And while I sit, warm and safe inside by the woodstove, I think of how hard it must be to

Live as the wild creatures do, where your survival depends on your alertness.

 

But really, is that so difference from our lives? We would do well to take a lesson from the

Winter creatures, our survival as a species ultimately depends on our alertness as well.

 

So while the snowy silence fills our days, pay attention to the winter wilds, be alert to the

now and the lurking dangers behind the snow banks and tree trunks will disappear on their own.

 

Watch the squirrels, appreciate the beauty of the Cardinals and evergreens, embrace the cold,

Treasure the winter sky and white rain drops and be grateful for what there is and

Be, just Be.

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.