Monday, February 25, 2013

Stupid

Before you she stands. Fully revealed. Vulnerability personified. Ready to be had in a way unfamiliar to you. 

Before you she awaits. All walls down. Skin shed. Nothing is hidden from you in a way that intimidates you.

You want to feel her fire and her peace. You want to know her softness and her bliss. Yet, you don't know how to handle such a gift. You only throw your paws at her defenseless frame. 

The injuries she bears for a short and painful while. The second hand moves forward and reaches its final hour. The tables have been turned. The roles are all reversed. 

You now stand before her. Fully revealed. Fear personified. Ready to be punished in a way unfamiliar to you.

You now melt before her. To your most basic denominator. Nothing is hidden from her in a way that intimidates you. 

You back away. You retreat. You fade into the background. You no longer matter. The game is over. She is gone. The gift that could have been yours for enjoyment has dissipated into the darkness. All because you did not know how to appreciate it. 

Thursday, February 21, 2013

My Idea of Success

I'd like to be still.
Through thick and the others.
I'd like to be calm
Through peaks and the valleys.
I'd like to keep clear
In my mind and perception.
I'd like for my feet
To know the earth as its nation.

I want to walk softly
And mostly whisper-
No need for a shout
To slice through loud convictions.

I'd like all my action
To come out of quiet-
The unwavering kind
Some may have found.

I'd like to be still.
Today and tomorrow.
I'd like to be calm
In joy and sorrow.
I'd like to keep clear
Within all my cells.
I'd like to keep feet
On track to my idea of success.


Sunday, February 17, 2013

Those Beings!

I have read and I have listened. I have witnessed and I have experienced. 

Death is unavoidable. Is there a gentler way of delivering the message? And if there is, why should it be presented disguised? I do not know much on the subject except for this one thing: upon watching the end of life, or upon finding out about an end of a life, a sense of balance enters. Suddenly, that which seemed big and important, becomes quite the opposite. All the tension, all the fight, all the frustration, all the disappointment of what should have and must have and what if and why-isms simply dissolve. At an extremely fast rate, too. Suddenly, permission to speak freely and feel freely is granted and messages are delivered with care and compassion. The fear of whatever the mind has been holding over the body like a sack of bricks has lost its power.  Breath is easier. Walk is lighter. Smile is. Somehow, being here and now is effortless. Life becomes much more fun. 

Maybe these sages and yogis and Buddhas and mystics are onto something. It just might be true that one cannot know the life in the physical unless he accepts its death. And while a touchy subject, it might contain the source of joy and a life well-lived.

Good Bye

I'm told he is gone but I know he isn't.
The skin has been shed but I know his persistence.
To finish that which needs to be done-
Perfectionist's work will not be put down.

I connect with his being
Feeling the tension of mine retrieving.
The body and mind will always remember-
The love that he has strongly projected.

There is not much to say on such a matter.
Embracing his choice is my gauge, is my battle.
We do what we see will serve our needs
I open all of me to feel his reprieve.

I'm told he has gone but I know that he isn't.
The bones have released him, yet I know his persistence.
To take care of that which has been neglected.
Perfection aside, his work's yet to be ended.

Wherever he is and whatever he'll be
It matters not so, experientially.
I will keep on moving according to life
With what he has given always in mind.

It has been a blessing. It has been a gift.
To know such a human so intimately.
I thank him for all he's shared with me-
Nothing less is expected and wished by him.

I'm told he departed but I know he hasn't.
The flesh has melted but I know his deep caring-
To tie up the ends that have been left flailing.
Perfection or not, he will be available.

I am grateful. I am honored. I have been touched. 
I release you into the air with this much:
Go freely not looking back and with conviction.
Your seeds have all sprouted. Can you see the fruition?

And now I ask you to, please, enjoy this transition.

With love....

Friday, February 15, 2013

Different Types

He looked at me through his glasses and said: "Let me ask you something... Are there different types of love?"

Well, if we're starting to ask these types of questions, then are there different types of anger? Of hatred?

My inability to love everything intensely just might lead to the categorization of love: romantic, friendly, motherly, brotherly. My inability to love anything for all that it is, not only for some of it. I may mistake hormonal lust for love. I may mistake mental stimulation for friendly love. I might mistake feeling emotional comfort for motherly love. I might love that person for what he/she does for me rather than for what he/she is. Whatever I may experience with various people, whatever aspect of my needs is fulfilled, I label my internal feeling as a certain type of love. While none of it may really be love. Love is love, it seems to me. Pure, innocent, all-inclusive, and worldly. 

And if I can be in love with one somebody, what prevents me from being in love with every body and every thing. And if I am in love with all that comes in contact with me, will there be a need to ask the question in the first place? 

And when simply dripping with love, I am just as equally fascinated by the movements of an ant as I am with the movement of my lover. How does that song lyric go? "One love, one heart, let's get together and feel alright." Perhaps, it's wise to stop the division of that which is indivisible. 


Wednesday, February 13, 2013

Vision vs. Goal

It has been my experience and my observation that there is a certain quality and a certain type of action that come out of how we choose to walk along the path of life. More specifically, how we choose to move toward something. Words are important. They are one expression of our internal state. They are also full of unspoken energy that is beyond the sounds of letters and syllables. 

If I think of reaching a specific goal, I immediately put a task in front of myself that is to be worked on. I feel the burden of getting "there" and grabbing it. My goal is now my target and I am to move toward it diligently with an acute focus and dedication. The pressure to succeed has been given a powerful voice. In short, I now have a job. 

If I think of creating a vision, I immediately feel inspired and energized. I think about how wonderful it would be to be this vision. There is a lightness about the road and any action that I might and do take. It's a joyful, fun, and in-the-present type of activity that I perform. In short, I play. 

And while both roads will get me to where I am going, I choose the latter. Not because it's a more enjoyable experience, but because it is sustainable. I am able to do out of joy almost continuously. I am capable of working for a set amount of time. 

Children's play is their work. Because they are not in a pursuit of anything. They simply enjoy things they like. Eventually, they may and do become proficient at their activity of joy. Many adults seldom play, losing that ability to the daily hunt of reaching the end of the line. Suddenly, it's an uphill road to a destination that should have been our liberation but became our ball and chain. 

A vision with no deadline.
An action with no expectation.
An experience within the moment of time.
A joyful life.

Sunday, February 10, 2013

Receptive

I start with one and then to two.
Before I blink, the page is full.
A word here, a comma there
I am pushed around and end with flare.
My mind's a blank with room for beauty.
And all the colors show up as jewels.
An image grows and sentence flows.
Before I am clear, the world's been shown.
I keep what's given and ask for nothing,
For in that space, the gift's been dancing:
On all my being, on all my doing
On all my thinking and... the unspoken. 

Thursday, February 7, 2013

A Day's Walk

Through and over the fence.
Squeezing in and stepping out.
Crossing over to the other side.
Together might be easier.
Solo might be just as possible.
It's finding the path that is the trick.
The space is wide.
The future is open.
If palms are up and the heart is free,
If humility is pouring out,
If the sun is seen and the moon is felt,
Assistance has long ago arrived.