not necessarily what you desire.
Fiercely loyal and compassionate,
She is confidante, mother, and teacher,
the one we keep searching for,
though she’s always there,
patiently waiting for us to come home.
Home is with you wherever you go.
Morning Meditation
I slowly awaken.
All is still and at peace
except the movement
from the ceiling fan
creating a rush of cool air
that continuously swirls over me,
gently caressing my warm, slumbered form.
My back arches
into a delicious stretch
as I burrow deeper
into the disheveled pile
of blankets and pillow,
the aftermath of my dreams in motion.
I deeply inhale
the smell of fresh linens
and the earthy scents of spring
that blows in
from the half-opened window
by my bed.
My eyes still closed.
My mind blank, open and available
to infinity’s life flow.
The intimacy in the room is palpable,
indescribable.
I feel you most at this time each day
when the energies of others
aren’t comingled with ours,
just you and me,
pure and sacred,
whole and complete,
reminding me of who I truly am
and what is real.
Though we are together,
always,
I love our morning visits best.
Spiritual Facial
We go to our place of worship,
and in the quiet, hushed space,
we put on our ceremonious robe
and surrender.
We close our eyes,
and in the stillness,
we are enveloped by
melodies and chants
and the fragrances
of lavender, sandalwood and mint.
Masks applied
are washed away,
drawing out impurities
as we cleanse, exfoliate and extract
the useless and resistant
that’s piled up over time.
The process can create
uncomfortable and painful moments,
as we bare and expose ourselves
to a bright-lighted magnifying mirror
that is relentless and unforgiving
in its primary purpose to uncover
our internal blemishes.
But after all the poking and prodding
we love the results,
which reveals our clean, pure, and natural self,
now nourished, balanced, and revitalized,
leaving us feeling renewed,
radiant and glowing,
Illuminating.
Until Now
The first time I remember
feeling joy from writing
was when I made a birthday card
for my Grandpa.
I must have been eight or nine years old.
I drew a picture of a birthday cake on the front
with Crayola crayons
and inside I wrote a simple, singsongy, rhymed poem
telling him how much I loved him
and what he meant to me.
I can recall the pleasure and gratification I felt
of being able to create something and express myself,
and my usually gruff Grandpa,
momentarily softened
by receiving my handmade and heartfelt gift.
You have no idea
how I crave
at this very moment
to see that card,
to get a glimpse
of my younger self,
that could possibly reveal
the budding writer
I somehow missed or ignored
as I grew up.
Why did I stop writing
and amputate myself
from the thing I love to do?
Numerous fears
and practicalities
immobilized me…until now.
Self-Portrait
By deliberate strokes of his hand,
pressed hard against the canvas,
guided by the One,
midnight blue paint,
reveals a picture
of who we really are,
that many have forgotten,
now recognizable
through the felt energy
his offering provokes.
He made
the Intangible
Tangible
the Infinite
Finite.
A self-portrait of our divine essence,
the Universal unseen
that has patiently waited
since its creation
for its formal debut,
for the soul purpose
of helping us remember
what is real and true,
however long that takes.
There is no rush in eternity.
Part 3
The resistance from the Ego…
as the Soul emerges
Tribute to Diana
She died in the depths of winter
just before an unexpected blizzard arrived.
Mother Nature’s grace,
extreme, yet effective,
creating a way to seek shelter and turn within
from the harsh realities outside.
We were barely acquaintances,
but I knew her well, on another level,
because she was me in the ways that matter.
The same age,
with the same disease,
around the same time.
Yet, after the initial discovery years ago
of our body’s betrayal,
our paths diverged,
her cells, stubborn and territorial.
Surprisingly, her vitality was no match
for her slashed and poisoned body.
She was too alive in spirit
to breathe her last breath in form so young.
I let out a deep exhale and unconsciously bow my head
in profound reverence for her valor that never wavered,
clawing and fighting her way for another day,
by seizing opportunities in the Land of the Living,
with that sparkling smile I never saw her without.
I instinctually walk upstairs into my daughter’s room
and gaze down at her while she sleeps so completely,
feeling the warmth of her space
from the forced heat and her sweet breath.
My biggest fear spontaneously grips me,
lodges in my chest and takes hold,
a direct hit to my heart,
that produces greedy sobs,
not the pretty kind.
Life can be ugly at times.
I’m suddenly…so…tired.
I wilt onto my daughter’s bed
stung by the audacity of loving someone
with such raw and untamed boldness,
feeling its strength and fragility simultaneously.
There are no answers to Why,
no meaning on the unfairness of life.
All worldly things are fleeting.
As I turn to leave the room,
I notice the snow has finally stopped falling.
I sense that Mother Nature
will work her magic again tomorrow,
forcing me out of hibernation
by creating a silver-jeweled landscape
that will be hard to resist.
I’ll go outside and make tracks in the snow,
knowing that under the blanket of white
there is life laying dormant
waiting for rebirth.
Truth
Cracked wide open,
huge waves of truth,
knock me down,
sprawling me out into unchartered,
yet vaguely familiar waters,
disbelief at what I’m sensing.
Unleashed from the constraints of time,
messages from beyond,
disguised in the ordinary,
coded in people, packages,
paintings, numbers and songs,
and synchronistic coincidences,
that puts me at odds
with all that I have known to be real.
False self!
Why do you taunt me,
isolate and separate me
from the mainstream?
The world is cruel
in its judgment of different.
They don’t remember.
Resistance softens into reluctance,
clinging by my fingertips
on to useless, yet accustomed ways.
I never asked for this.
Or did I…
unknowingly?
Lovely Divinity,
wrapped in a coat
protected from the biting winds
of uncertainty.
This is the way,
in form,
since doubt is born from the mind
as it projects out into the future.
and Spirit recognizes
there is only now.
Running on the fumes of faith
is my salvation
to my nonconforming and abiding self.
I greet and enter the flow,
emptying into pure surrender.
Nothing is at it appears.
Grace is everywhere.
Mysteries become certainties.
Feelings become facts.
Omega…
there is no end.
Time,
eternal,
overlapping, melding, blending
past, present, and future.
The currents of time
stream through and out of me.
My present self
as the future self
to my past self.
First, awareness,
then, communication.
Is that even possible?
Cyclical and dynamic,
infinity’s pulsating energy and vibrations
causing ripple effects
through alternate potentials
in all dimensions
with purpose and order,
linked and aligned
to the minute detail
to become interchangeable realities.
We are One.
Eternity’s cavernous presence
blankets me with
awe,
humility,
strangeness.
To know oneself
doesn’t instantaneously transform
into being oneself.
The inescapable transparency
of living my truth
leaves me feeling
exposed and unprotected.
Now,
quiet strength feeds
my rebellious soul,
a willing participant
poised for giving
in the present,
a timeless present.
Truth wins inevitably.
Unwritten
I was born into a story.
I authored more as a child.
As an adult,
I controlled my story,
rewriting it many times,
yet, I was still unsatisfied.
It was never enough
somehow.
I’m sensing now
that I’m not my story.
Though that feels true
it makes me uncomfortable
because without a story,
who really am I?
What is Real?
Is my mind concocting stories
of what could be
or is my soul
tapping into other dimensions of time?
And are these visions
just various potentials
that can slip out of reach
without my knowing,
or my fate,
inevitable and preordained?
Threads of possibilities…
imagination or intuition?
fantasy or truth?
contrived or divine?
wishful thinking or destiny?
My questions take hold,
surround me,
and assault my peace of mind.
Is this the right path?
Is there a correct way to manifest what I’m sensing?
Am I unintentionally going to screw this up somehow?
Do I charge forward and make it happen?
Or wait for a sign to be shown to me?
Do I even want what’s coming?
I don’t know.
I admit defeat.
And in my surrender
one simple truth emerges
from the exploration
of these things
that offers me some relief
from this relentless probing.
Faith cannot exist
without trust
in what is
and what will be.
Have faith.
Just trust.
And in some deep place in me,
I do.
Pure
Deep immersion
into the pool
of pure awareness,
subtle, elusive and real,
where potentials are actualized,
possibility becomes certainty
thoughts become reality.
Going beyond the boundaries of time and space
where travel is possible
to a place with no edges and corners
at the center of infinity,
the point of creation.
An identity crisis of the best kind,
the vastness of pure consciousness
silences the False One,
with its nonsensical chatter,
who alerts us to all
that is unsafe in the world
that it created
and opens us to actions
that cause more suffering.
Form cannot penetrate the limitless dimensions.
Pure consciousness expands
the Eternal One within
who perceives the past,
surrenders to the present,
and is ever watchful of the future.
The root cause of spontaneous belly laughs
that come for no other reason
than sensing the joy of it all.
Who is this one
who is forever watching and remembering?
And how do I get her to stay?
Authenticity
The crazy thing is that
the more honest I get
the more deceitful I feel.
I’m su
ffocating
under the weight of incongruity
between who I am
and how I’m existing,
and the clever distractions
that keep me in hiding
from pockets of my life
aren’t working anymore.
I want out and I don’t know how.
Wait… that’s not true.
I do know.
I just haven’t wanted to deal
with the demands truthfulness requires
with no guarantee of what will come.
More Questions than Answers
What is
my life purpose?
How can free will and destiny
coexist?
How do I know
if I’m running away
or letting go?
How can I plan
for my future
and be present in the moment?
When do I persevere
in making something happen
versus surrendering to what is?
How can I work
toward my goals
and yet remain detached
from the outcome?
When do I ask others
for help
and when do I turn within?
If Truth is nothingness,
how can anything
have meaning?
Can I be okay
not knowing the answers?
What the Hell Am I Doing?
I’m smothered under
the blanket of responsibility
of making my dreams come true.
In the light,
alone with my thoughts,
I feel invincible.
In the darkness,
alone with my thoughts,
I feel defeated.
Is it worth it,
working so hard,
being totally out of my comfort zone,
without even a glimpse
of the Promised Land?
Does that even exist?
I am so scared,
after all is said and done,
that I’ll never…
taste the sweetness of freedom,
feel the gentle embrace of love.
hear the laughter of joy.
sense the stillness of peace.
And yet…
Wide Open
Mind is open,
but Heart is closed,
because it remembers
how it felt
when Mind was closed
and Heart was open.
If there are infinite possibilities,
then our imaginations
and Page 3
