Easter’s Promise

 

Snow flattened grass

Reawakens in the spring sun.

Snow banks dwindle and melt

Like arctic glaciers.

Crocuses brave the still icy winds to prove their faith in spring.

Still leafless branches sway and clack together in spring’s winds

While sap flows up from their feet and warms them from within.

Objects left outside since late October emerge from the snow, preserved as if having been in an altered state of timelessness.

Time stood still under the snow while the world and sky above

Flowed seamlessly from one season to the next, one viscous winter storm passing silently on to another.

Lawn chairs I last used in November have returned, appearing as if just back from vacation.

The chairs stand in a circle around an old, rusted fire pit with welcoming extended arms and empty seats.  So I join them once again as a new season of light and promise begins, today,

Easter Sunday. 

Easter is a day of great joy and hope to millions all around the world.

A day to celebrate the defeat of death and the promise of eternal life but

I see evidence of His promise every day, in early spring tree buds, in the yellowing of willows at the end of winter, in the greening of the meadow grasses and the songs of the returning summer birds.

Spring springs eternal in Gods promise to all beings, not just the human ones and not only through stories in a nice book written so very long ago …

So take a moment each day to stop and look outside and see that

Easter’s promise is everywhere, not just today but every day, in every being and

Every season.

 

A Play of Stillness (2/24/17)

I sit on the stage.

Darkness surrounds me.

The audience, if there is one,

Is silent.

There are no props on the stage

Only layers of black curtains.

Although I don’t remember auditioning for a play,

Here I am.

It’s odd that there is no music or

Other players.

So I sit in my darkness for what seems like forever

But there is still no sound, no movement, no life.

Just stillness and a mild sense of confusion.

I feel the space in front of me more than see it.

I sense it is there, curtains in a circular shape

A boundary perhaps but between what and where?

The other side is unknown and unknowable

Until the show begins.

But will it begin?  Still there is no script or other players,

No music or lights.

I run my hand through my hair to prove to myself that

I am still real in this sensory deprived place.

But what is real about an empty stage, a wordless play,

A playerless story?

I begin to realize that

None of those things matter.

All is stillness and non-duality.

The “show” never begins and never ends.

The circular curtain and empty stage contain eternity

And this space is an empty place within me.

There will be no play, no script,

No lights, no audience.

This story is mine, the darkness my stillness,

The only witness, me.

Just me as part of the universal consciousness

Acting out a play of well-rehearsed lines without ever saying a word.

Each player a part of the whole

Never separate from the others.

All joined in the cosmic drama

Of existence.

The curtain rises on one story, one actor, one consciousness

In an act that never ends.

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.
 

Of Love and Light

Nostalgia weighs heavy on my heart tonight, 

And I long for what could have been.

 

But then I remember why it wasn’t but what makes me the most sad is that I also remember 

That it almost was.

 

So wanting and loving, I sit alone in this night of late winter cold as the music of piano and cello drifts through my head.

  The sound of the cello speaks to my soul and caresses my heart.

 

In the melody, I hear two hands playing together in perfect union and feel that

I am as one of those hands, looking for the familiar accompaniment of the other.

 

And so in the depths of this late winter evening I am lost in

Remembering what never was, feeling what didn’t exist,

 

Loving what could have been  

In this time of warm darkness, candle light and winter solitude.

 

Now there exists only a memory of he and I, together yet alone,

Forever wrapped in the spirit of love and light.

 

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.

Wisdom at Midnight

 

Last night, at midnight, an Owl spoke in the forest,

And I understood.

Listening I realized how a perpetual misunderstanding was coloring my thoughts,

But not the owl’s as her knowledge is deep and colored by nothing but the truth.

As I lay alone in my bed, I felt the darkness soothe the forest’s heart and hoped, but

It could not touch my disturbed soul.

I couldn’t see, I didn’t know what was next,

I felt suffocated by the inky blackness while

The forest mother was at peace and

Sighed in contentment.

My only peace now will come from learning from her.

To accept her invitation to  surrender my will and lay down in her gentle softness,

To use a layer of her leaves as my bed while

Her twinkly night sky becomes my pillow.

I will trust her to protect me, to hold me close and

Put me to sleep with her lullaby of star-shine.

I know its the only way as Her wisdom is deeper than mine, dependable,

Greater than me, and more than just a beacon in this perpetual darkness.

Tell me, did you hear the owl’s wisdom at midnight too?

The Single Second of Midnight

The Deep primal sounds at midnight are

A gathering of voices in the dark.

The language is unknown

But the meaning is understood.

Darkness hides the players

But not the play

As it is a script followed

Since the beginning of time.

The cast of characters remains the same with only

The players changing.

The truth of the story portrayed is undeniable, and

Is perfected in the casting of souls when the sounds of their voices gather and

Eternity resides in the single second of Midnight.

3/1/18

I must not engage…

 

The avoidance of my issues give them power and such avoidance, rather than being a remedy, becomes self-defeating.  The power is mine, not a power over anyone or anything else but over me, and mine alone. 

 

The defeat of power frees me, frees my soul and heart, and lets in joy, love and peace.  My feelings will fade with time and a lack of attention as my attention reverts back to an observation of what the human heart is capable of. I now can see the depths of self-deception to which the hearts quest for love will go.  While loving is never a bad thing, fighting my feelings is keeping the ego’s power fresh and alive causing my suffering. 

 

My fear is also going, but slowly, and is not being replaced by indifference but with another feeling, not sure what to call it, maybe curiosity.  I must be careful to not give in to any “mind” games that give me permission to be involved with the impossible quest and “thoughts” that I, the ego I, may be able to “fix” this.  That is not for me to do, there is no “fix”.  Becoming self-aware is the best fix as it is not a fix for anything but me.  With me is where my power lies.  The power of the eternal I AM.

 

So here I am, sitting looking out my back windows where the silence is deafening.  The space between the trees is the same as the space around my heart.  It is filled to overflowing, light and joy in abundance but still, I have to remain aware, aware that not growing weary is the key.  They will come, the weariness and weakness, and I must not fight back.  I need to let them come, acknowledge them and thereby take their power away, over and over again, as often as necessary.

 

But in spite of my best intentions, I feel hope and joy fade as quickly as they came.  I pray that each time doubt will go away more quickly but I must not rush it or over think it because that too will refuel its power.

 

I must be vigilant but not insistent!

 

To love another in this life is a bonus, not a guarantee.  To love another, to share that sacred space, the heart space, mine, is such a joy when the love is right.

 

The anxiety I am feeling is fear, a fear that this freedom will leave me, will stop and never return.  I must have faith in joy and peace, as it is only my ego driven thoughts that appear to take it away.

 

This ego has no power over the me that I Am….

 

But wait, the ego is strong and is fighting back, again…

 

I must not engage…

 

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, sometimes far away.

 

At times lost to you in this secular world,

Tied up by thoughts and indifference.

 

But now, a change has come, an awakening. 

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

 

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 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 am here.

 

You are defenseless against the world without me, but 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, and

 

You are my vehicle for experiencing the world, for sensing and knowing the manifested from the un-manifested.  You are my beating heart, my body friend and my charge to protect.  You are my very own

 

human—being.