They are nothing less than silent, swooping, gliding,


Whose calls echo through bare spring trees

And color my nights with beauty.

One calls and waits.

The answer to come when it will.

With each call, the distance lessens between their

Voices in the night.

That which fills my night heart with light and joy,

Fills the hearts of others with fear.

It is the fear of ending.

An ending that comes out of the sky

In silent, swooping, gliding, magic.

The magic of beauty or,

The magic and freedom of death.

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.


Changes are not always positive

Or swift.

Some drag, leaving behind a trail

Of sorrow.

Some move quickly, leaving no time to dwell

In the past.

Some changes are painful but for the better.

Some are just the way it is, neither good nor bad.

We decide which way to go, to let go

And move on or stay stuck, resisting the change.

I don’t know which is harder to do….

I think it depends in a large part on the nature of the change…

Change happens with or without my permission.

Me and you are not the same people we were just moments ago.

The cosmos has reinvented itself a thousand times in the last ten minutes.

So change is common, a fact of life and existence so why do our

Human situational changes sometimes linger

Beyond what they should and so become more important than they really are?

Even a change brought about by me is hard to handle.  It is a step away from what has been and a step into a new future, a good future, a better place within me, yet unsettling nonetheless.

And although change is inevitable, there are consistencies in my life for me to lean on and appreciate in the face of change…

Tomorrow will still come, the sun will rise and shine through my soul and soften the pain that still lingers.

The hoots of the owls in the forest outside my window will strengthen my heart as morning turns to day and the thoughts in my head turn towards the goodness and excitement of the life changes before me.

In spite of uncertainty, these changes are good.  The dark past has settled and sunken to the bottom of my soul where it will always remain, never forgotten, but will no longer be able to hold me captive in its cold grip.  It’s and his falseness and deceptive nature have been fully exposed and rejected.

So the change that has come is the right one.  It is long overdue, and although still painful, it is welcome.

My heart has changed, my livelihood is about to as well after which I will embark on a journey into an unknown future where I will accept whatever may come in this moment.

I will turn my focus inward where things can and will change for the better for me and all those I love…. everyone.

The City Sleeps

Its passageway’s are dark and deep

The city sleeps.


Traffic stops in the late night hours

Leaving the tunnels and passageways empty and echoing.


The statues that adorn the bridges and street corners stand in silence,

Their presence as forgotten as the craftsman who carved them.


Does anyone ever see them?

Does anyone ever care?


Buildings sit inches away from each other,

Built to use every bit of space,


None is wasted

None is.


They build closer and closer

Taller and taller until the sky is blocked out leaving no reminders of what is real.


The bus I ride from the airport to South Station navigates the empty streets, turning and sliding past the emotionless statues, the empty tunnels,


Past the tunnel doors that lead to nowhere and follows the

Streets and turns made just wide enough to fit through, does someone actually plan these places?


Or do they grow by themselves, out of each other

In layers and layers of cement and iron bars.


I feel the need to be silent in the dark empty city night.

The bus interior is dark except for my reading light


A tiny light illuminating

Just what is below it – me and my pen and paper.


Am I the only one who is really here

The only on paying attention …


All else fades to darkness in the back of the bus

The end of the tunnel, the dark and abandoned South Station.


It is an odd sensation thinking of the millions who lay sleeping all around me. As wildlife sleep at night, hidden out of sight in the forest.


The city draws the millions to it, holds them here, caught in the rush and sorrow of a life of illusion, but too busy to notice.


It is only in the dark of early morning that

The beauty and truth of this place is revealed.


Minus the noise, crowds, exhaust fumes and indifference,

The city glows with a knowing internal presence.


I feel its sadness like the bridge and

Street corner statues feel it.


They and I recognize each other as the neglected and forgotten ones.

Only alive when noticed but only noticed by each other


And only when the city sleeps.


MC 5-20-16


“I’ve seen your flag on the marble arch

Love is not a victory march

It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah”

Leonard Cohen



The sound of rain takes me to a place of inner peace as the

Rain falls in sheets and slides down the roof over its edge in a curtain of water.

Tree leaves dance with the weight of the rain and

Flowers wash their faces in its freshness.

The sky is lower on rainy days and

Holds us close and grounded.

Sounds are muted and muffled and

Light is  defused in grayness.

But it is not a sad and depressing grayness,

But a soothing and peaceful shade

Full of the necessity of sorrow.

A rainy day is soft and dark.  It begs us to stop, rest and be mindful of our surrounds and loves.

It reminds us to take the time to be lulled by the patter of rain on the windows

Into a place of inner stillness,

And there remain, content to just be and accept what is.


In 4.5 months I will retire, it is a time to keep and mark.

The days numbered waiting for freedom but really, will it be such a change?

Now has its own freedom and always has and

I have the freedom to be here now.

The now holds nothing but is everything.

This space, this elegant space is here with me now. Always is and always has been.

But in 4.5 months I will breathe a sigh of relief anyway as my perceived waiting for time will have ended and time will fill my time and I its.

It is telling me to put away the other stuff and come and be part of it with my whole self.  It is not something I will do for the I of the surface but for the I of my true being.

I need to be able to participate fully in the now, in the glory of being, with all of my being.

Will it be easier in 4.5 months? I don’t know.

Probably not, unless I chose it to be.  Waiting for things never makes them so.

For everything happens in the now, there is no past to look back on, no future to look ahead to

It is always only now… So I guess I should stop waiting for the time to pass, it doesn’t,

There is but One moment fading into now, into now, into now…

Welcome Home

The 12-Step, codependent no more approach and the psychological analyzing  and labeling are not for me.  While fostered by caring individuals with only the best of intentions, both approaches are run by the mind with way too much thinking involved, too many judgments, stereotyping, etc.  I am aware that both processes are based on research and the due diligence of learned people, but the basis for dealing with everything in this life came with us from birth and it is precisely all this “mind’ activity that blocks our natural coping processes from being available for our use making our collective ego think the learned professionals are the only way to go.  I disagree.

These approaches no longer work for me.  So why do I keep drifting from the one that does?  Maybe it seems too simple, this recovery has to be more complicate than Eckhart’s simplicity, but his ideas are simplicity; profound in their power.

A power to make the name calling, the judgments, the classifications of another drop away as too much mind and leave behind only what is the observer in me behind my ego, looking beyond the ego of him  to the observer within him.  This observation does not nullify or cancel the effects of his or my negative behavior but instead creates an internal understanding of the difference between my ego and my being, his ego and his being, and an understanding of the workings of the “pain-body” and the power of this moment within us both.

From reading Eckhart Tolle’s “A New Earth” and Mooji’s “Before I Am” I have experienced a deep and restful peace, a peace which has nothing to do with what he might say or what I might think.   All of those things have no bearing on my inner peace.  This is a state I have tried to achieve for years but it wasn’t until last night when I read the following quote from Mooji’s book that true peace became a recognized aspect of me.  I know it has always been there as the I am behind the me and my ego but my striving and grasping for it has kept it at bay.  “Truth is not some bundle of concepts that you have to believe in.  Truth is not a concept, it is where all concepts end” says Mooji.

This peace, I hate to call it a realization because that implies that my “mind” recognized it, came over me unbidden, un-thought of, and at first, unnoticed.  It crept in as I read Mooji’s words and sat in my bed with tea cup in hand.  My body recognized it first and reacted in spite of my busy mind. I became suddenly aware of the physical symptoms of peace, slower deeper breath, normal regular heart beat and lack of thoughts.  Not a blank mind but a mind full of just being with no room for thought.

A knowing came upon me and the thoughts that were weighing me down lost their power.  It no longer mattered how it would turn out because I became aware that this being of I am, behind my ego, and this sense of peace that it provided would not be and could not be changed.

Knowing this fact and not just believing it have given me a freedom I never felt before. This morning the sky is bluer, the little birds coming and going from my bird-feeders seem to pause and look at me with an internal knowing.  The contrast of the still leafless trees against the cloudless sky is defined like the 3D effects in the movies.  Birdsong drifts to me from every angle of the woods and wind-chimes give a voice to the invisible wind.

The prayer flags gracing the front of my house flutter their prayers to the heavens with my every breath and the world stands once again as witness to another being’s awakening and says “welcome home”.

Other Things Die Harder

I like to think that it is settling down now, fading away, but maybe not.

It is done and yet…

Some things die hard, and

Other things die harder.

The light has gone out so

There is nothing more to see,

Nothing to look forward to, nothing and no one to hold and

Although the disconnect is intentional,

The physical reality has not changed, it has

Not gone away because, after all, I still remain.

My perception of the circumstances has shifted, slightly.

It is based more on the truth now but the intentional disconnect remains the reality.

Is it the same for the other? I think not. 

He has no reason and no meaning to his thinking as it is all based on deception.

He deceived me

And himself and

A life based on lies can hold

No meaning.

Some things die hard, and

Other things die harder.

Monday Morning Thoughts on “Being”


             There is a thickness to life, a depth and a knowing, an observer and an observed.  I feel the depth deepening.  I see the” I”  as ego and separate from the observer, when this separation is complete, bliss will remain and be all pervasive.  I feel it coming; a flood of knowing is approaching.  Glimpses of  becoming, I see the 3D effect, the truth in believing without the believing, or the truth.  To dis-identify with the body is to watch it change and grow, watch it become and not, watch it be and not and know there is no death to the being that is observing.  The bliss’s will follow, don’t grab at it, just let it be.

                It really no longer matters if he loved me or not, it really doesn’t – that is just ego. I say to him in my head,  “you have no power over me” and the glass breaks, the mirror shatters and that which is identified with is gone, leaving only the essence of being, of eternal being, not dependent on anything or anyone external.  A freeing of non-self but all self, without ego, a smiling face beyond thought, above resistance to what is, in spite of “myself” recognizing and seeing it in everything and everyone, even the many who don’t see, who don’t  know there is anything to see or know.

               My body changes, it needs food, water and rest.  It doesn’t ask for it, it demands it and takes it.  It is its due as a vessel of importance.  It holds my humanness but is not who I am.  The universal consciousness powers my physical being.  It makes me breathe in my sleep, it lights my inner darkness with a promise of the eternal.  It whispers “no fear, no death, no end to being” to my soul and shows me the way to peace.  Its peace, like a warm blanket, descends to wrap my soul and quiet its longings.  It holds and comforts until the longing stops, and then it holds some more.

                To be given this gift of life for however long the body lasts, is the ultimate blessing.  It provides a benchmark of sorts; a non-being to give being its meaning.  It provides  a sense of the temporary to illustrate the permanent, the enlessness of being.  It provides the physical to complete the picture and therein comes the depth and texture of existence, eternal existence.

                This little body, this perfect creation is lovely.  I feel its aliveness; I watch in awe how in spite of me, and my abuse of it, it continues on.  I see how I think of it, when I honor it with truth and love, it glows, it reacts as a whole with a flushing of the skin, it is telling me it knows, it hears me.  But it is ageing, only doing what it is meant to do and I have been privileged to be able to watch as the un-manifested became manifested, how it learned and experienced and how now it is fading back to the formless again but richer and aware of being aware, it is all what we choose it to be, but only if we know.

                Just be still and let it come, whatever “it” is, no concept, no thought, all freedom, stop labeling, feel and not,  see and not, know and don’t, be without being.  I can’t help but think in words, but try to stop thinking and be, be as the fresh night air that is flowing through my bedroom window.  Sharing itself with my being, the fragrance of the moist early spring earth just is and buy its just being it imbibes my being with a wonder and joy.  I experience it without thought as to the why or how of it, my being knowing its being. 

                When we can truly embrace this knowing, when we can truly embrace this mess that is our human condition, when we can finally stop pointing and touching with the broken finger only then can we experience the eternal hallelujah.  As L. Cohen wrote, “It is a cold and broke hallelujah”.  But thank goodness for the pain, for the depth, for the experience, for all of it.  But to hold that being, to maintain that presence,  to accept and believe in its fleeting nature is sometimes so far out of reach because of my ego, and when that unreachable feeling comes over me,  then it is time to sit, to be silent, to let the being take hold in silence.

                In my  sitting, there are bursts of joy, bliss and understanding of being, felt not thought, a spontaneous smile but then I try to grab it, to hold on to the majic and by doing so I chase it back into the silence from where it came.  By being silent and just sitting and being, I invite it back.  It acts like a timid bird, wanting to be close but afraid of me and my ego.  It shows itself and thereby makes the lack if it, or the absense of it when I have chased it away, so empty and flat, uncomfortable and shallow, dark and cold, I don’t’ like it.  It is not reality, or more accurately it is reality without the knowing and I don’t want to stay there.  But when I try to rise above it the effort seems too great.  It is only when I don’t try that it is effortless.  I need to stop getting in my own way, stop getting in my beings way.

The sights, smells, senses of life are wonderful.  We and all the beings on this earth share our presence here together.  We enrich each other’s physical experience; and by doing so we make that cold and broken hallelujah no so cold or broken after all.


Teardrops resting in my eyelashes make stars of the candle flames

That dance before Krishna and Radah.

My heart melts like wax in their presence while

My soul longs for a love like theirs.

I search for the truth in him, I won’t give up, but it remains elusive

And hides behind his eyes.

So I wait and want, love and hurt and cry but

Still it hides.

It has not the courage to tell its story so it stays hidden from me in shame with

Lust its frequent disguise.