Waking Up

I am walking through the field
Feeling overly filled
With strangers' love
And love that's strange.

I am kind of tired of talking.
I would just rather feel
All that has been spoken
In silences between.

My energy is wasted.
I cannot be contained
While those desiring clarity
Are only half way there.

I will retain my distance
And shout on demand.
I may be an enigma but then I've always been.
To me and some of others, thus nothing will reframe.

I am walking through the forest
Overwhelmingly concerned
Such life, it speaks so loudly
It's thy ear that's been closed.

Might You Help?

Please forgive the intrusion.
All the obstacles are an illusion.
I am looking for the right infusion
To send this bird into flight.
Will you choose to assist in that?

Is

Ignorance and Grace
Staring at each other from
Opposite sides of the same fence.
One's formidably built
The other is...complete.

Loving Hand

With confidence and ease. With expertise. And unintentional tease. They glide along the contours and search for every crevice. A way to find the key to the music long tuned out. Each inch alive and sighs in awe. Of all that was and all that is. Awaiting to be soft, receptive, and fulfilled. The barriers fall back. They cannot stand a chance. The mind cannot explain the melting of its hardened defense. It all becomes a blur. A state of purity. When one is touched by hands that only sing of love. And this defines a man beyond the greatest verbiage. If only it could be an everyday occurrence. All powers unite in wisdom and acceptance. As love swells up in volume until the grandest mergence. And as the journey flows, the heart cannot but glow with that which cannot dim low right then or in a moment. True virtue of a man has finally been known. Preventing him from war and its subtle undercurrent. The loving hands make marks deeper than scars. Turning the process of paying forward on. And all the cells rejoice in innocence and joy. 'Cause those hands of man have ripened beyond the nonsensical execution of the mundane. And thus the word "Amen."

Yours

Your beauty and your grace.
Your smile and your embrace.
Your warmth of the fingertips and touch of the lips.
Your love and your kindness all speaking to me.

I want to be near you.
I want you with me.
I want to explore you.
I want to begin.

This life is unknown to me
But to you,
It seems to reveal
What it means to exist.

I want to adjoin you
With my hand and my heart.
May we be in contact
On this rollercoaster ride.

And if I forget what your beauty has meant
Remind me with freedom you've come to embrace.
I am here before you
Like student on Mars.
Your love and your innocence
May they leave their mark.

Dubbed

All the little people sitting at the table.
Drinking drinks and eating eats.
Over twenty years later, the center of everyone's attention.

All the outcasts are sitting at the table.
Heads thrown back laughing, air filled with innocent shrieks.
Over twenty years ago, the interest of noone's study.

They speak the language of the few.
They see the world of the many.
Over this lifetime, unable to be seen and unable to be celebrated.

Living in cubby holes and tiniest of spaces.
Awaiting the opportunity to spring forth.
Over many hours, simmering with internal juices, bursting at the seams until...

All the unknown people finding one common ground while sittting at the table.
Hands held and cheeks kissed.
Over the generational divide, the once unnoticed melt into the unmistakeably noticeable pot of their one essence.

Love...It's been dubbed "Love."
And it oozes out of the fingertips, out of the corners of the eyes, through the skin into the big people, the accepted people, all people until all the world tastes its sweetness. Over the next twenty years, this work will be done.

Mind Weeds

The dots. The specks making up the dots. Slowly connecting, forming a more coherent and complete picture, a picture that is starting to fill up the entire screen, except I am aware that is a remote possibility.

Suffering comes out of comparison.

Like the math notation, equation, representation. A is greater than, smaller than, or equal to B. A mind's sick trick to keep itself occupied in the absence of having something better to do. Maybe, had I understood any math whatsoever in school, I would have understood this reality sooner. My usage of the term "sooner" shows only too well how easily I create suffering when it didn't exist just split seconds ago.

Because if I looked at any one thing and at any one person as if I am seeing them for the last time, I would see their beauty. Without any comparison I see them. Period. Nothing more and, certainly, nothing less. And all the frivolity just melts and resistance vaporizes and a sense of subdued love and compassion arises. I, as the observer, become compassion itself. And such soil does not grow suffering. Thus, the weeds of discontent are uprooted...

And when I see myself as something I am not, I am unable to remain with what I am. I am unable to see my beauty, and I am unable to see the frivolity of my overworked mind. And the paradox is just this: seeing the inner light makes it glow even brighter until all I am is a light that shines in all directions. The frivolous mind games of comparison fall out of existence. And the weeds of discontent are something of the distant past.

The Foundation

Light a match. See the glow form.
Light a wick. See the glow double and triple.
The energy of one ignites the other, and the combination is greater than the individual flames.
There is strength in numbers. If joined by the same something.
The individual is strong. The pair is stronger. And the triangle, I am told, is the strongest of all configurations. You. Me. And the foundation. Two of such triangles. Then three and four. The lattice of a crystal is formed. Solid and fully alive. Vibrant. Beautiful.

Let's uncover. Let's find it. Slowly and mindfully. The very ground that holds us upright through all the storms and violent words. The very earth that softens the hard landing of the foot or the cascade of tears. Let's find a network of such foundations which will elevate my and your and their humanity until we fly like the angels. And let's call this foundation the mother. And let's bow down to it. And let's recall that while gentle, she's the fuel of our vehicle. Without her, nothing is.

Unsolicited Advice

You don't have to please her.
You don't have to hurt her either.
Could you state your situation?
Could you love her with all your being?
Could you simply see her child?
You don't have to blame her.
You don't have to resent her.
Could you simply voice your inner affairs with the vulnerabiliy of your child?
You can turn around, exit through the revolving door, and sprint toward your freedom.
You owe nothing to any one.
You owe everything to the one.

And when the pain subsides,
And when the child matures,
And when the limbs and the speech relax,
You can return through the revolving door.
You can measure the distance travelled.
You can begin to sing your favorite song without shame.
You are now the star of your own existence.
You owe nothing to any one.
You simply are the one.

Looking Closer

The need for identity. The need to be distinguished. The need to be a somebody. The need to be unique.
The need to be attached. The need to be defined. The need to know oneself by the external markers.
I am this. I am that.
All in vain. All limiting. All confining. All restricting.
One box is too small to hold the enormity of the human. Any box is a box with boundaries and walls. Usually concrete with all the meanings. 
The need to know. The need to feel on solid ground. The need to proclaim oneself and stand up. It is all there. It is all-powerful. It is never fulfilling when experiencing the movement of the breath is all that there really is. Is all that needs to be known.

And I say

And I say to him: "Darling, you can only run away from yourself so much. Your sprinting legs will soon tire. Come with me. I will take you to nowhere. And there you will sit."

And I say to him: "Baby, all your running around is circuitous. It will not take you to where you're looking to be. Come with me. I will take you to nowhere. And there you will smile."

And I say to him: "My dear, be courageous to be with yourself. Move into yourself, as you might have moved into others. Come with me. I will take you to the promise land. It may have treasures, and it may have emptiness, but there, I promise, you will be."

A Happy World

From knowing the
      Beauty within
To living the
      Love within
To dissolving the
      Ugly within
To overflowing with the
      Life Within
For the world to enjoy.


or, in other words:

Know the Beauty.
Become the Beauty.
Compassion will flow.
Love will bloom.
Love becomes you.
Dissolution closely follows.
Nothing is needed.
Everything is given
From you
To the world.

The New Life

I am wondering. If we were to return to the so-called less sophisticated times, when families were called extended and not nuclear, what would the nuclear part of that family look like? It just occurred to me that, maybe, the couple relationship might not have been so intense during those times.

Let's look at this. The fights, the attachments, the expectations might just be simply less grand. After all, there are all these other people to help to fulfill whatever needs I, for instance, may have. I might be surrounded by cousins, uncles, aunts, granparents, parents, other children. It's like that "everything but the kitchen sink" type of environment. My partner would be one of many intimate relationships in my everyday life. One of many intimate relationships is the important distinction.

There is something to be said for the role of a community that is largely missing today. The nuclear family of today is constantly around each other, without getting a respite from one another, without having sufficient ways to release and channel one's energy, or express true emotions, or re-charge.

One of the joys and benefits of having to go through the isolated nuclear family age is that this type of an arrangement was, in most instances, born out of choice between two people. Now, there is a choice to extend this particular family to include carefully chosen friends who have the potential to create the support network once provided by blood relatives without all the inevitable drama.

It appears that we are moving in the right direction. There is one caveat. The importance of including friends of all ages into the mix is rather profound. Projecting curiosity and compassion will draw in an array of shades, shapes, and experiences of people which is badly required for a full appreciation of humanity and for a full connection among people.

Perhaps, a new generation of family is about to be born. Out of choice. Out of vulnerability. Out of joy. I am standing by.

Stamp of Approval

It just happens. On its own. As if there is a magnetic field unseen by the eye that pulls us toward each other. As if I am walking with eyes closed, arms outstretched  in front of me, moving into some direction clearly not chosen by me.

The "each other." We are the creatures who just don't seem to belong. Not to a club, not to an association, not to a team, and, most curiously, not to our families. A split occurs within. We are not excited to be there, and we're not excited not to be invited. One foot there. One foot anywhere but. The tension within is great, and, at any moment, can burst and, in fact, does burst, and the damage takes its valuable time closing its torn edges.

And so we find each other, we relate to each other, and yet, we still do not belong to each other. We simply embrace the other, include the other, sympathize with the other, love the other, accept the other, be there for the other with deep understanding, honesty, and vulnerability. And while I might never belong to my clan, I seem to find refuge in the profound meeting with one akin to me, carving deeper into that which is to know at all times that I belong not to a club, or an association, or a team, or even my own blood family, but to the mother earth and the father sky, and the birds and the bees and the lakes and the trees, and to all that is. Because whatever that is knows me and I know it, and I no longer need anyone else's stamp of approval.

Amen

Not everything is to explained.
Words are limited entities.
Any verbal explanation is insufficient.
Words without emotion are merely sounds.
Sounds are an instrument like a drum waiting to be used by the hand whose soul is waiting to be heard.
The things that are known and have no need for explanation are life itself.

Life itself is that which cannot be named.
Life itself is that which cannot fit inside logic.
Life itself is that which can only be experienced.
Life is beyond anything that can be labeled, for only the tangible has an identifyable quality. Even a sweet emotion is palpable. The depth that is life is just that: too deep and too grand to be handled and presented in a package with a red bow. To taste just a glimpse of it is overwhelming enough. To know all of it is beyond imagination. It is beyond the standard perception.

Dance, I say, is the vehicle for the life within to begin to come forth, for in that moment, the mind and the body are no longer obstacles. They, too, become the vehicle. Suddently, a smile appears, arms become wings, and a glow arises. A tiny speck of life is known. It cannot be measured. It cannot be explained or recognized as familiar. It is beyond the mind. It exists as itself. It makes me see the possibility, as well as my unexpectedly good fortune.

The Origin

Everyone is capable. Few dare. 
Everyone is able. Few desire.
Living with eyes closed. Closing doors to what's real. To what's honest. Remaining underneath the pile of heavy sweaters. Piles, that is. Waiting for an opening to get out, yet timid to take a step forward, toward the new.
The internal doesn't shine. Looking to the outside for assistance. Support is virtually non-existent. All are looking there. 
The whole is greater than the sum of individual parts. 
Come together. In any way possible. In any way palatable. With the intention of inclusion. Of pulling away the dark curtains to see the light, to rejoice in the light, and ignite it to glow even brighter. His and hers. And theirs. 
The original sin? No. The original source. Far removed, shunned, feared, forgotten, buried. 
I am looking for Thou...