Be Dissolved In The Liquid Son

Imposters by fate but still

Miracles at birth.

 

Holed up in falsities

Missing the point.

 

Unsettled souls reap only what

They sow, no gifts are given or received.

 

No promises kept, no dreams fulfilled.

Maybe next time, but next time never comes.

 

It is the same ending, over and over and over.

A sadness steeped in familiarity,

 

Seduction for its own sake

The only prize.

 

It is a shallow, stagnate prize

But the only reward there is.

 

It is time to break this spell of soullessness and

Open to the pain of your deluded being.

 

Absorb it, take it in and by doing so defuse

Its dark energy.

 

Deny its claim on you,

Step away from its hold and

 

Watch, watch as it shrinks

And fades.

 

Watch it be consumed by the light,

And dissolved in the liquid love of the Son.

 

Watch it be taken from you

To hurt you no more.

 

Awaken and feel the light and goodness

Of who God made you to be.

 

It is there, already in you, see it for yourself

And when you do…

 

There will be darkness no more.

 

God’s Space

 

The night sky displays

A sea of stars that are

Lights to my soul,

Pinpoints of hope in the darkness.

 

It is a sweet darkness,

A still darkness, in the arms of God.

 

He is holding his creation close to his heart but

Giving it space to grow and spread its promise of love’s light.

 

The confluence of channels of prayer, the gathering of oms has the power to

Open the sails of change.

 

Sails that steer ships with hulls full of enlightened souls

Through the darkness of God’s space

 

Populating the emptiness between the stars

And the heart of the Creator.

 

It is though us that His word becomes

And His darkness is empty no more.

Blessings of the Night

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

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

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.

 

 

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.

In Honor of Small Things

“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 manifested 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, real.

 

Ceremonies and traditions, ways of honoring the small things, act

As symbols and representations of caring for the One, the One all pervasive energy, the Creator.

 

Everywhere I look I see evidence of that truth.

When I open my eyes each morning, I acknowledge and honor the new day.

 

A new beginning with each sunrise, with each chime of the cuckoo clock

As the fresh 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.