Winter cold permeates all
Firewood brings me warmth
Crystal skies cap smokes escapte
Winter cold permeates all
Firewood brings me warmth
Crystal skies cap smokes escapte
The meadow at night is
Transformed by dew and darkness.
Cool air, freshens the heat
Stressed life.
Evening creatures awaken.
Their scurrying making busy the darkness.
Shyness slips from the forest
To the freedom of the clearing.
Always watchful, fearful
Poised to run.
A canopy of stars and sky rolls
From horizon to horizon, sealing in the breath of night.
The dust of day, washed away by night’s dew,
Settles between the blades, taking its place in the soil of life,
And the landscape sparkles with diamonds in the rising morning mist.
Refreshed by the blessings of the night,
Ready to begin again.
(re-post from 2/15)
MC
Dew kissed meadow.
Tree skeletons,
Silhouetted by fog.
Meadow’s undulating waves
Shrouded in mist.
Appearing and disappearing
A familiar landscape
Changed by drops of dew.
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
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…
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.
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.
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.
A new crop is rising,
A crop of hats, mittens,
Dog toys and charcoal grills,
Picnic tables and croquet mallets,
Ripped tarps and broken flower pots,
All forgotten, abandoned when winter forced us inside and slammed the door behind us.
A crop not intentionally left behind, just not thought of
In the business of life, lack of day and lengthening nights.
Our forgetfulness was hidden by darkness. In the awakening Spring,
The rakes and shovels are still hiding behind the trees, but
The lawn chairs and gnomes are springing up
From their blanket of snow,
They rise like statues, offerings to the Gods of Winter.
The snow retreats from their shoulders, knees and feet
To reveal the flattened un-mown lawn beneath them,
Left over proof of our Autumn failings.
We stare from our windows at the litter of
Leftovers and wonder how we could have forgotten them all as
They look back at us with blank faces,
Trying to pretend that it never really happened.
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…