Autumn Failings

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.

October Nights

October nights of one sided love and two sided lust,

To be the last, unknown, three months ago…

 

And if I had know,

Would it have been any different?

 

Not for him, I know, but

For me, probably.

 

His loving is so powerful,

My surrender to him was so complete,

 

In mind and soul for me but for him

In body only.

 

Why do I hold these dates in my heart?

My head wants to forget, but my heart just wants.

 

Most days now I can stop myself from thinking about it but on dates

That bring back events, the same old longings take over.

 

My mind tells me so, but

My heart says stop thinking, beware,

 

The mind is not to be trusted,

If you listen, it will take all the progress back

 

And it will leave you in the shallows yet again.

It doesn’t care where you end up as long as it gets its way.

 

It must have learned from him.

 

Forget the dates, forget the sighs my heart feels,

The words my mind repeats and breathe.

 

I need to return to my stillness and

Eckhart’s words on days like today and

 

Just be.

 

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…

The Missing Piece

I am tired,

Tired of fighting me.

 

I have improved; I have found a way,

A good and honest way.

 

But the old ways and feelings

Die hard.

 

I don’t want to feel this anymore

I want it to go away – completely.

 

But I know it never will.

It can’t until I do, and even then…

 

It has become a part of me,

Not the me you see but

 

The me I know

And that me doesn’t know how to erase it completely.

 

There is no erase button,

No permanent “delete” option.

 

My Being accepts that fact and holds him close,

Not because of me, but in spite of me.

 

And some days when I am not even aware,

That I am thinking about him it breaks through again in silent, unbidden tears.

 

Are they for me?

Or him?

 

Are they for a way that should have been, could have been,

A way that needed to be but wasn’t?

 

I guess I will never know.

They say it doesn’t matter, it is no more,

 

It is not present in the now, only in the past.

But I think my Being forgot a little piece when it moved on,

 

And it is that little piece of me that still belongs to him that I miss.

 

 

 

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.

 

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.

A New Life (a continuance of my post “Now” as I continue to grow, change and understand):

“What a liberation to realize that the “voice in my head” is not who I am. Who am I then? The one who sees that.” Eckhart Tolle

 

It is liberation, a true freedom from me,

Not freedom from the real me, of course, but from the one my Being watches.

 

My ego and mind work together to mostly cause me trouble.

They thrive on the pain and disappointment in life and are always looking to bring more.

 

The drag me down, make my body hurt, and

Make me reactive instead of responsive.

 

It is not only freeing to know that I am not that voice in my head

But is also guilt removing, it enables me to forgive myself.

 

For as Christ said on the cross, “Forgive them Father, they know not what they do”

But this isn’t to say that to hurt others and lash out in anger is ever ok.

 

It doesn’t mean that we can do or say whatever we want and then

Justify it by saying it wasn’t me speaking, it was my crazy mind and obsessive ego.

 

The above is especially true when one has gotten to the point of acceptance of the truth.

The truth of the true Being that is me, the one who watches.

 

Once that acceptance and truth is known and truly felt with one’s entire being, there is no going back. So now, when the ego and mind get the upper hand,

 

It is my responsibility to rein them in, keep them in check, watch them carefully and not allow them to take me over,

 

For not to do so would not only be a disservice to others but also a betrayal of myself.

Star Soul

Star shine drips from the night sky and runs along the naked winter tree branches like syrup

Leaving iridescent trails of silver to wrap around the rough barked trunks.

 

The sliver shine lights my way

As it spills star souls on the forest floor and

 

While I follow the star trails, eons pass in an instant and eternity sleeps

In the soft warm glow of acceptance and starlight.

 

The cold surrounds my soul and heart in these winter depths and

Dense air adds clarity to my vision as I walk the trials of the stars.

 

These star trails take me to a different place, a place at once new and ancient,

A place to observe all in silence while cloaked in the winter wood.

 

I see mosses hold their breath in the glow of the star-flow and hear them whispering their secrets to a silent waiting cosmos while holding tightly to the trunks of the trees.

 

Late geese fly across the moon, their cries urgent in the night sky

Confused by the uncommon shimmering silver ground below.

 

I am not alone in this realm of silver winter as

The forest is full of the souls and spirits of summer’s love.

 

I feel them all around me, darting in and out of tree shadows,

Stopping to watch me from behind drifts of truth and light.

 

The discarded autumn leaves warm the soil beneath the drifts

And life waits in patient stillness.

 

My mind becomes as still as the waiting life as I travel the empty space between the stars reflected in snow’s white depth.

 

There is no urgency in me or in this place

Only the beauty and silence of peace and star light.

 

The winter forest is a secret,

A complete world in and of itself hiding in plain sight.

 

Its silence a decoy to protect its love lying safe and secure underground.

Go to the forest; breathe in the silent dripping starshine,

 

Follow the starlight as it traces the outline your soul.

Blend with the magic of the forest as

 

It is only there under the canopy of eternity that you can become as silent and still

As the dense crisp air surrounding you and once again, as in the beginning,

 

Go home to that place within that holds you in the soft silver glow of now and

Within  that silent place returns you to wholeness.

 

The soul of the winter forest knows and understands you.

She waits for your return.

 

 

Now

I was at the bottom with

No end in sight.

 

Mind numbing pain and sorrow

Blocked my vision and stopped my breath

 

But then, from a soul sister, in the silence of despair

Came a glimmering of hope,

 

A way to stop my ego, to

Reign in my mind.

 

She brought wise words of knowing,

A knowing and watching, a feeling and seeing.

 

And as I accepted that seeing and knowing, the thoughts began to drop away

One by one like autumn leaves.

 

There came an absence of words,

A deep stilling of my soul.

 

Finally a way to be, just be, the only way,

But not quite a total release as I was yet too weak, too exhausted from my struggle.

 

Parts of my ego and anger still held on, their grip

Like tentacles wrapped around my heart.

 

I wanted to let go, I thought that maybe the “wanting” was in the way,

But I accepted that soon even the wanting would be of no consequence, it would drop away on its own and

 

The anger would stop sneaking up on me,

Grabbing me from behind when I least expected it.

 

I know now that my ego and willful mind will not

Let go without a fight.

 

A fight to remain in charge, to perpetuate their control

And continue deluded behavior.

 

But I have changed, grown, and can now watch them from a safe distance and

At times even smile at their antics,

 

But I grow tired of their stubbornness, their uncooperative nature, their disdain for what is best for me.

 

They do not have my best interest at heart.

They have no heart.

 

Those two are not who I am and when I am finally in tune to the being that is my true self,

All else will naturally fall away and I won’t have to “deal” with either of them,

 

Nothing else will exists but the Now and

There I will happily stay.