Tuesday, November 4, 2014

River's Edge

I sit at the river's edge
Deep currents and eddies
Bear you away
I throw a rope
of hope
of love
of promise
To draw you to me
To safety

It is not yet time
I am not the one
To save

I stand at the river's edge
Dark, churning waters
Carry you away
I release the rope
Relinquishing you to the care
of true Love

We are always truly safe
Though we know it not
You are in my heart always

I love you
I love you
I love you

Thursday, October 9, 2014

I See You

A glowing heat that can be blocked 
but not contained
Emanates through all beings
as love, thought, longing and peace.
When letting this vibrancy through,
We open the common heart that lives beneath
All human longing . . . 

Mark Nepo
The Book of Awakening

All I want
All I want
Is the One
The one thing

I see you

I fight past the veils
Struggle through illusions
of separation

I see you
Your brilliance shines
Reflects, resonates
Pierces my soul
One soul seeing another

I am you
You are me
There is only one
One hunger
One Source
One Voice

Speaking each and all
Singing through a million throats
Splashing myriad canvasses
With color and light

I see you
You see me
Speak me
Sing me

For what do I yearn?
What is this longing?
Where are you, my Love?
My Life?

See me
See me

Expressions of love are not the Love
Representations of life; not Life
Fixating on what feels good, looks good, tastes good
Craving touch -
 The kindness of a lover
Not the cure

Through which light shines
Through which to pass
Not the safe place from which to live

Reflections.  Expressions.  Guides.  Avenues.

Focus on satiation
Feeds the hunger
Focus on Light
Draws you through and in 

There is no shame in the longing
The grasping 
The wandering
All is rooted in the one desire
the one hunger
Common to all

Strung out
Lost in our addictions
Temporary cures fail
We fall
and open our eyes

I delight in the spark
I see in you
For it is also mine

I see you
I see myself
I was never lost.

Monday, October 6, 2014

The Perfect Life

The thing that has been - it is what will be again,
and that which has been done is that which will be done again;
and there is nothing new under the sun.
Ecclesiastes 1:9

Deep within each of us lives both a leper and a wolf,
both of which we are afraid of.
In Franciscan lore, they are our inner imperfections.
They are always there in some form, 
waiting to be tamed and needing to be forgiven.
Radical Grace: Daily Meditations, Richard Rohr


We close our eyes
Visiting the dream
Tentatively touching remembered magic
Impotently grasping for the life that was; 
That was to be

Please, no more.
Please no more poorly given love
Love poorly received.
Hurts unintentionally caused
I am the leper.  I am the wolf.
Fear bars the giving. 
The receiving.

There is nothing outside of myself which completes.
No sweet words.
No right touch.
No one's "faith" in me.
No perfect understanding of "truth"
No perfect life.

No place where children do not suffer.
No place where horrific maladies do not strike.
Where the right relationship, the right drug,
the right anything,
fixes all.

Always, always, always
The Source of all I need and desire
Dwells within.
Nowhere else

There are no new answers
No matter how badly I want a quick fix
(and sane explanations for the insanity)
Just discovery/rediscovery
Of what's always been.

Sink down
Sink into the solid embrace
Release the death grip
Preventing your fall

It's okay
Okay to fall away from self made protections
(illusions - delusions)
Structures of identity and value
Which inevitably crumble and collapse

Sing me asleep
Hit me awake
This perfect life
Carries me down and in
Friction removes the lies
Bit by bit

I remember again
 to smile 
through my aching heart.
This is life.
Perfect life.
For there is no other.

The path of descent is the path of transformation.  
Darkness, failure, relapse, death, 
and woundedness are our primary teachers, 
rather than ideas or doctrines.
Richard Rohr

Listen to The Perfect Life by Moby

Oh, we close our eyes
The perfect life
Is all we need

You opened up when you had me in your hands
Slipping far away with the world at your command 
You sing me to sleep and then you hit me awake
It's a perfect life, a perfect life

I only want to be here when you're by my side
Oh I believe now, I'll love you 'til I die
You will sing me to sleep, you will hit me awake
In the perfect life, the perfect life 

We close our eyes
The perfect life, life
Is all we need

Little Mike he, steps everywhere
Knives in his pockets and bullets in his hair
He has nothing to live for, nothing left to say
He's locking all the doors to keep the older wolves at bay

Spoons and foil are all he needs. 
A bed and some china
A lighter and some speed
It will sing you to sleep, it will hit you awake
In the perfect life, a perfect life. 

We close our eyes
The perfect life, life
Is all we need

It goes all night
The perfect life, life
Is all we need

We close our eyes
The perfect life, life
Is all we need

We close our mind
The perfect life, life
Is all we need

The perfect life, the perfect life, the perfect life

All we need

Images: http://chp.deviantart.com/art/outstanding-sky-76271247

Wednesday, September 3, 2014

Glorious and Fleeting

(Powerful words written by a friend who is grappling with the effects of Alzheimers)


Ripping, shredding
tearing from the inside out
fraying at the edges ~
The brilliant mind slowly parts
from the glorious, yet fleeting tent
You have fashioned.

Reserve and careful control fade ~
Now unfiltered raw emotions
are seen through the veil
as it dissipates.

Magnificent vessel of Your creation
slips to the side
of the Potter’s wheel
as it spins, and is dashed ~
its shape now unrecognizable
from that which was.

We long for the day when we,
Your works of clay, are drawn
in final form from the fire ~
Vibrant colors blended and edged
with gold, to serve at your eternal table.

But for now we grieve for the centered balance
That was and is no more.

Thursday, August 28, 2014

Sweet Seeds

I recently returned from a visit with family which included my mother, who has Huntington's Disease.
The first week back I was engulfed by a deep, heavy darkness.
Having a history of depression, my first thoughts are,
"Here I go again.  What's wrong with me?  How can I fix it (me)?"

A friend said, "I think you are grieving."



Maybe I'm 'normal'?  Not needing to be fixed at all?

My mom isn't who she was.  She won't be (in this life).  
It's a special sort of sadness.  This loss of what was; of who was.
The mind and body altered.  Diminished. 
A brilliant and beautiful mind fighting through a fog.
Striving to locate and hold onto thoughts.
Working to get the brain and voice to cooperate.

Oh, sweet, sweet mother of mine
I weep because you were beautiful
I weep because you seem even more beautiful now
Strength fighting through weakness
Tender expressions of love
Pure.  Simple.  
Pure and simple.
No pretense (because there can be none)

Why does it hurt so much? 

This is the gift.
This is the evidence of great blessing and deep beauty.
If there was nothing much to lose
The heart would not bleed.  

How deeply blessed am I? 
To have been loved so greatly 
To love so greatly
I carry all of it;
All the grand adventures.  
All the little day to day events that formed who I am.
Nothing is lost.

So, I smile into my tears.  
This pain is the fruit of love and goodness
Seeds planted in me -
A million little bits of life
Sent roots deep
Sprouted and blossomed
(and blossom, still)

I hold you in my heart
With love and tenderness.
I cherish a love which cuts so deeply.
Spread from heart to heart
Generation to generation

I allow myself to grieve the loss
I hug to myself the pain which is also the love
and nurture the seeds of life and color and music and compassion 
and silliness and wit and exploits extraordinaire . . .
and so much more

Thank you, thank you, thank you!

How trite is it, to end with the following quote?  
Yet, it's true.  Love is worth the pain.  
Is actually deepened and intensified by it.
For pain reveals and is evidence of love.

'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.

Alfred Lord Tennyson


For more information on Huntington's Disease.
For information regarding my family and HD.
To hear my brother's composition, HD Blues.
To help with research into treatments and a cure.
My donation page

Sunday, April 27, 2014

It Is What It Is

When I argue with reality, I lose - but only 100 percent of the time. 

 How do I know that the wind should blow? It's blowing! 
I am a lover of what is, 
not because I'm a spiritual person, 
but because it hurts when I argue with reality. 

 We can know that reality is good just as it is, 

because when we argue with it, we experience tension and frustration. 
We don't feel natural or balanced. 
When we stop opposing reality, action becomes simple, fluid, kind, and fearless.
Byron Katie *

How do I find peace?
When 'what is' can feel so dark 
When the story seems set
When hopes held dear

Byron Katie stresses that acceptance, and actually LOVE of what is,
does not preclude taking action to bring about change.  
Simply, that it is pointless to argue with the reality that presently exists.
Since, it, in fact, IS.

She also believes that the essence of the Universe is good.  

If we trust that God is Love
That the creational direction of this universe is that of love and goodness
We can know that all is ultimately well

The 'is' that is, is much more than we see.  
Larger, grander
Deep, intense, wild
Wonderful. Beautiful. 

It is the caterpillar in the cocoon, the chick in the egg . . .
 The is that is, holds the promise, the potential, 
the energy of creation which flows beneath the surface always. 
'What is' can feel dark, sterile, motionless, a finished work . . . 
but it is not.

'What is' can appear to lead only to decay and loss.
but, it does not.
That which carries death, 
atrophies and passes.
True life lives on
Shines through

We are carried.  
We are Jonah in the dark belly of a fish. 
Moving, though we see not where. 
We are the chick, crushed within the suffocating darkness of the egg.
The caterpillar dissolving, disintegrating
Losing all form, to be reformed into
A beautiful, winged creature
(oh, how I fight this feeling of formlesslness - painful, liquid unknowing)

I may feel that my life is static. 
That I've taken too many 'wrong' turns.
I smell the stench of death . . . 
Fight the darkness that threatens to consume . . . 


Life is an organic thing
Only artificial things never spoil
As I ask all that is not love to die and be gone from me
Can I accept and love
the byproducts of death?
Can I embrace the pressure and pain . . .
the darkness and the discomfort . . .
as the gifts they are?
(Or, evidence of the gift.)

LOVE looks on, and smiles.
Sees beauty shining through the darkness. 
Renewal emerging from dissolution.
Sees the end of the story.

And loves what is.


Check out Byron Katie's Work.  Life changing stuff.

Portions inspired by Dark Nights of the Soul, by Thomas Moore