Tag: Spirit

Sitting

On By MiCoIn faith, nature, poetry, spirit, Zen6 Comments

Sitting here alone, but not

This sacred place, this field of dreams and memories

Where the wind blows the

Wildflowers in waves and

The sun hides behind

The milky clouds and is

Draped in sweet softness.

Blue shadows slip between the trees, as

Om Namah Shivaya drifts from flower to flower

On the wings of a bee.

The tangled growth at my feet

Holds the whole universe in its breath.

Dozens of varieties of life

Bloom together in perfect harmony.

No temple, church or any place of worship can compare

The spirit reside here, it is not just visiting, it belongs.

Services, Kirtans, and Masses serve to honor, praise and worship.

But this place, this existence of perfection,

Sings its own tune

Its own worship in just being.

The creator exposed in its creation.

The essence of God in the unopened milkweed flowers.

The promise and potential of love

for its own sake.

The truth can be no plainer, no more perfect,

No more beautiful.

I sit in witness and feel the grace in the grass, the life in all there is and the peace of this place.

The peace comes to me and from me, and

So I sit and by witnessing become a part of it all,

All I need to do is sit, just sit and let it be.

Sweet Surrender

On By MiCoIn love, poetry, spirit1 Comment

Shadows dance on the wall

And candles flicker their witness.

 

Love’s mystery is practiced and plays out

In his eyes and actions.

 

His eyes so sweet,

His actions so strong.

 

His arms encircle my body and heart and

His words sing to my soul and fill my senses.

 

The heart and heat of his touch becomes an addiction,

An addiction I am hopelessly lost in.

 

One so strong it will take over my being if I am not careful

But I fear it may be too late for caution,

 

He already owns my soul and

My body reacts on its own and moves and plays in harmony with his.

 

But this is not a love I can rest in,

It requires attention to keep it in check.

 

It threatens to take over,

To become all encompassing.

 

I need to retain the upper hand, reign it in,

Tame it down, hold it back.

 

But my resolve is weakening,

My strength losing ground as my heart prepares for surrender.

 

But in the end I realize I have nothing to fear,

As it is a sweet surrender, and one I give willingly to him, only him.

Lace Curtains and Newborn Leaves

On By MiCoIn faith, love, nature, poetry, spirit, Zen3 Comments

Through my lace curtains I see spring’s newborn leaves.

I listen to the robin’s song outside my window, and it takes me away, back to the past.

My past, a time that was filled with babies and hope,

New beginnings and the beauty of life and family.

Spring was a time of rebirth, a time to celebrate winters long awaited end and

Welcome the bright baby smiles and appreciate the dirty little handprints, everywhere!

A time of fresh air and sunshine, of growing my gardens and my babies.

Those precious little ones with tan lines around their diapers, dirty faces and shining, healthy eyes.

Love and laughter filled my yard

With the truth of place and isness.

And now the years have passed and

My little ones are gown with little ones of their own,

But the process stays the same and the cycle of seasons continues.

Another winter ends and another spring begins:

The soft, warm earth and gardens freshly tilled

Wait to be planted.

All is in flux, the grass greens overnight.

It has been a long time coming; winter was slow to release its grip,

But when the process begins, spring

Races to the finish, there is no time to waste!

A short season, an urgent explosion of

Light, warmth and beauty.

Flowery days and soft evening rains,

The perfect recipe for growth.

Seed packets clutter my house at planting time,

Filling it with the promise of life.

My jean’s pockets are overflowing with torn seed packet tops,

A shower of confetti on laundry day.

Springtime laundry is wonderful, I use the clothesline and watch the sheets and towels

Snap and wave in the fresh baby breezes,

The sun-dried laundry brings the scent of spring to my bed and body,

Soaking me in the beauty of spring’s essence.

As in the past, I am once again the sower of seeds,

But now the grandmother of the new little souls,

The ones with the bright smiles, dirty hands and faces,

And shining, healthy eyes!

The years fly by in a blur and the cycles of life continue.

The seasonal shifts are dependable in their completeness and predictability.

Spring always brings a new beginning, with promise, love and light, just as surely as the robin’s song continues to transport me back to a place, a time and a way of life I will forever cherish.

Magic at Midnight

On By MiCoIn love, nature, poetry, spirit, Zen11 Comments

Midnight, the night is deep,

Darkness complete.

Time is right, magic is in the air.

A fog of silence and forgetfulness rolls in and settles between the trees.

They creak and groan as the soil around them releases its hold and

The forest floor itself moves and then rolls away, dissolving into the fog.

Exposed roots and life bask in the dankness of the new moon as

the night creatures rise to stare in wonder at the unfamiliar sky.

The remaining soil becomes transparent and the life below is revealed.

Beds of moss hold sleeping creatures and startled owls take flight.

Another world, one of roots and life,  rocks and tunnels

A world of soft, dark, warmth and welcome.

The very place where life began, the essence of creation,

where soil and water, life and earth mixed together to hold the seeds of the future planted there.

Planting the future, with God’s hand and love until

Daylight brings the magic to an end.

Soil solidifies and

The forest floor is rolled back into place.

The underground world breaths deep and is content once again

To remain hidden, and hold its secrets close.

Safe in its disguise, all is hidden.

Magic sleeps and the owls come home to rest.

All is quiet and held in secret silence

Until that strange scent of mystery is in the air

and the fog of new moon and magic reveal

the life and love of the hidden world.

Sunday

On By MiCoIn faith, love, poetry, spirit7 Comments

Today my senses have been filled.

All emotions coming in their own time, in fits and

Torrents of pleasure.

Love in all its forms.

For child, grandchild, music and words.

Love for him and the sky,

And the sounds of the field.

The love of life,

God’s words in varied forms, audible and not.

Morning love and passion with

Smiles and light – caring, warm, intense and perfect.

Child and her small one, perfect complements of each other,

Hearts in line.

Wind & Chi, a field of hope and eternal gratitude for what once was and will always be,

and as i sit

the Kirtan flows and joins the gratitude of the space.

My poetry place- a joining and treasuring

of kindred sprints never met.  A wealth of beauty and positive light.

People and words to cherish and hold dear, truly a gift.

And an afternoon spent with words, books and thoughts of him

serenaded by Bach’s Brandenburg Concerto #3, too lovely for words,

Yo-Yo Ma’s cello perfection and Rufus Wainwright’s words – profound and moving.

A Sunday spent in love with life and all it holds

so simple, so easy, so right.

I am grateful to be

Just be. I need nothing more.

4/26/15

MC

State of Mind

On By MiCoIn poetry, spirit4 Comments

State of Mind

Reflection of innocence.

The innocence is trapped there,

It and I are not the same.

I am not a figment of my imagination,

It is quite the opposite.

There is a separation, I now can feel it. A feeling and a knowing,

Something new for me, its time has come.

I see the space between us, feel its presence

As I watch, detached.

It is interesting to be the observer of my own mind.

To see how it skips from one thought to another.

It can not see the connections,

But I see them.

It is a study in separate togetherness.

I feel like my mind’s teacher,

Watching it grow and change,

Nudging it in the right direction.

But just like a child, it

Doesn’t always listen!

It puts up a fight, insists it is right, throws a tantrum,

And threatens to give up or run away.

I watch from a respectful distance, but still feel

Its pain, its confusion, its self-doubt.

But I never abandon it; sometimes I wish I could,

Wish I could just turn and walk away,

Leave it behind in its mess, its suffering, its drama

But its innocence and need always draw me back.

Back to hold its hand and lend my shoulder for it to cry on, after all

If I give up on it where would either of us be?

Sitting

On By MiCoIn faith, poetry, spirit, Zen9 Comments

Emptiness as fulfillment,

Void of light.

Pleadings of matter

and truth.

An isness only the small

can possess.

We had it, but now it is gone,

It may take a lifetime to get it back.

Fleeting as twilight to dawn and

Heartbeats in the night.

Sounding their worth,

longing for truth and light.

It comes in a shift,

A shift of perspective.

A physical line travels

Across my vision and I am

Transported to another place, to

Another way of being.

The emptiness becomes filled,

The darkness bright.

A space alive with currents,

Crossing and churning.

They bring me to the edge but I have not

The courage to just be, not yet.

The melodies of bliss float

Past my head and drowned my heart in their beauty.

The energy rises from my spine to

The top of my head and erupts, Kundalini awakens.

From the depths of my soul,

The wanting is cloaked in energy and light.

Sounds drift in and out, senses are

Heightened and then dulled.

The truth reveled and at once hidden again,

A puzzle solved and then broken.

I can’t hold on, the more I try

The farther away I am.

It fades with the wanting,

It recedes with the clinging.

The physical line shifts back,

Travels across my field of vision and is gone.

My eyes slowly open and take in

The alter in front of me without seeing.

Buddha sits, lotus candles flicker, Quan Yin holds the vase, and

Jiso waits to bless.

The singing bowl starts to hum on its own, and the

Room vibrates with its energy.

As the vibrations fade back into silence,

The Lotus goes dark and Buddha sleeps.

The emptiness is once again empty and

The light has faded to gray.

But my soul holds back and keeps another small grain of truth

Each time I make this journey.

And the grains will come together and build until someday,

Maybe someday, I will be whole.