A Beautiful but Bumpy Ride

Wisdom leeches out of melting snow banks and

Star light travels from the ground up as

moonlight seeps though the pores of the earth and floods the sky with peace.

Come, sit by my side in the forest at midnight and

Feel the earth’s truth in her being.

Be still and let your soul be free.

Then hold me tightly as it is a beautiful but bumpy ride!

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.

My Mind

 

My mind has become my enemy,

One that shares this space inside of me but cares not for my well-being.

It turns night into day, lust into love, wants into envy,

Truth – my truth – into lies.

It whispers in my left ear, words

My right side, it knows, will reject.

In the beginning, my human beginning, my mind

Was my friend, my ally, my confidant, but no more.

 

So I spend my time sitting and focusing on my

Return to that initial, eternal being,

 

And when that process is complete,

My mind will return to its natural state as my life navigator and soul companion.

Its taunting will stop, its search for drama will cease,

Its creation of a hundred hurtful scenarios a day will end,

And once again, as it was in the beginning,

It will become my friend.

 

It Waits

It waits with patience hands

Outside our knowing, waiting to be let in.

Its story is always the same,

Its truth dependable but not always what we want to hear.

There is no hypocrisy, no deceit in its soul.

It is the soul that fills the void, that encompasses the eternal.

It exists in rhythms of time, tides of dependability,

Cycles of freedom and seasons of hope.

It can be ignored, but never escaped and so it waits,

In beauty and joy, in bliss and acceptance, in love and peace,

For us to wake up and realize it is but a mirror of ourselves,

The face of our existence, the light in our souls,

The essence of our being

Before we were born.

All the Light of a Million Suns

 

His hands are weightless

His smile, eternal.

 

His eyes hold all the stars in the universe,

All the light of a million suns.

 

His energy charges every cell in my body and

His love powers and drives my nightly dreams.

 

When he speaks to me, his words feel like a warm soft blanket

Draped  with love over my shoulders.

 

His voice comes to me in the silence of meditation telling me to stop,

To let it all go.

 

He tells me that good will only come to me

After I throw out and reject the darkness.

 

He watches in silence and sadness as

I try but fail over and over…

 

He knows he can’t do it for me.

I know I can’t do it for myself.

 

 

After All

 

It rolls out in waves from

One thought to another.

It remains as one heart flowing into the other

Then back again to me.

It travels by glowing starshine that lights its way

Through the darkest nights only to

Leave me at dawn as sunshine brings back the true sight,

Sound and taste of its love.

But as it leaves, its absence is not sad as the void left behind is open,

Open to every other possibility love can explore.

It becomes a love bigger than me in spite of its misplaced attention

And I see that it was meant for me, after all.

It Waits

It waits with patience hands

Outside our knowing, waiting to be let in.

Its story is always the same,

Its truth dependable but not always what we want to hear.

There is no hypocrisy, no deceit in its soul.

It is the soul that fills the void, that encompasses the eternal.

It exists in rhythms of time, tides of dependability,

Cycles of freedom and seasons of hope.

It can be ignored, but never escaped and so it waits,

In beauty and joy, in bliss and acceptance, in love and peace,

For us to wake up and realize it is but a mirror of ourselves,

The face of our existence, the light in our souls,

The essence of our being

Before we were born.

Into Blackness

I made too much of it,

More than it was.

But not at all what I 

Wanted it to be.

Yet I continued, wanting,

Wishing, and hoping and for what?

For another night?  It was just a one night

At a time love.

It feels unreal now,

 a waste of me, of my soul and heart.

And now begins the slow fade into blackness and silence, just like all the others, as

My soul bleeds and my heart beat stops and

My eyes, still in their blindness, wish it were not so.

A Play of Stillness

 

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.

I don’t remember auditioning for a play,

But here I am.

It’s odd there is no music or

Other players.

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 no script or 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-separate.

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.