Poem: Hurricane Reverie


Weathering a storm

laying flat

floating on a yoga mat

deep below the pressure

The careening dervish slicing bits

sharp edges

protruding from parts long ago

They fall

in shards, scattered

around a weighted form

marking the image: a murder mystery

Who was this person

lying heavy upon the shores of then?

Hovering spirits

caught on the updraft

and spewed from the cone

find her unrecognizable

The devastation blew heavily

over the solitary shape

silently still upon the floor

What life remains

when hit head on

and looking at the world

from above?

 

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Poem: The Conversation


I speak to my cat

smelling of sweat

sitting crossed legged

in front of visiting deities

Their far-fetched faiths

diverge and dance before me

(or so I believe)

My cat talks back

In perfect speak

her travels shared

details flicked and flashing to and fro

and finer points dug home

I listen

in trance-like meditation

swooning to the tinkling tales

spun secretly

this tittering yarn

As I begin to follow

down cobble stone alleys

on padded paws

my tentative whiskers gracing my face

as we stalk our prey

Upon our return

My cat reassures me

our jaunt was judicious

So with a swish of her tail

and squint of her eyes

She turns

marching softly away

Leaving me

dismissed

Meaning


It has been a week of contemplation and ultimately deciding to let go–surrender.

For months now I’ve been preparing (with the online course) and then trying to get a job here. For any of you out there  who have tried in recent years, you may know it’s no fun task. Online job searching and applying has become, it seems, like all our communication now: a distant and computerized grind. It takes anything remotely human out of the chore. There is no more going into a place (like a store for instance) and asking for an application, where maybe you might have a real person see you. Everything is handled by some invisible robot now.

So I have been reduced to my statistics, and sadly they aren’t good. And don’t believe the lies they tell you. This America we live in now (or maybe even before), isn’t the equitable place everyone may believe. No, it’s really about the bottom line. It’s not about knowledge or experience: age does not bring wisdom folks, it brings the fact that you may just cost too darn much. Or in their minds you might anyway.

It doesn’t seem to matter that younger folks may not have the savvy for a particular job, or the personal presence shall we say (at least in some instances). I’ve noticed that many of the ‘kids’ seem too busy checking their phones to really know how to talk to a real person. But bosses and companies don’t seem to mind this flaw as long as they can keep hiring these kids cheaply.

And I’m not even asking for a lot of money! I just wanted a job. So does my neighbor. But try as we might, we just keep getting rejections, no matter how stellar our resumes may look. So it was time for me to just take a breath, because honestly, my breathing was getting too rapid about the whole situation. I was getting Indeed.com anxiety. It was nuts!

Enough already.

During a meditation it came to me that it was time to give in. My arms were heavy from swimming against this current. Fair enough. So time to take another tactic.

I applied to volunteer at the local soup kitchen. Within 10 minutes they called me. I start tomorrow at 7 am. No, I’m not a good person. This totally isn’t about being generous. It’s about me. I won’t lie: this is doing something for me. I need to feel like I have meaning.

And it didn’t hurt to apply somewhere and have someone say yes.

Poem: The Wanting 


Let go of the wanting 

and see where it leads

down dust blown highways

where cactus men point 

and sun burned grasses

to wave scorching goodbyes

The wanting is feral

a scavenger dog

sniffing out treasures

meaty and ripe

It creeps through the cracks 

and appears in the night 

lapping up moments 

chewing on greed

Take a hold of the wanting 

by the nape of the neck

smooth out its fur

give feed to her fury

And let go of the wanting 

to run off

somewhere among 

the tangled 

wild wood of your life

Poem: Stillness


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In stillness

times when I sat

hushed under ancient pines

back brushed up against wizened skin

small

yet safe

cradled silently

beneath an immobile mammoth

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In stillness

near a whispering brook

whose words spoke sense

when nothing else could

they drifted past

in bubbles of music

floating by

in ripples of spray

to be caught in moments

of calm

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And in stillness

sitting upon the hill

with warmth from above

creatures close by

and sharing the peace

near by voices are small

and my belly is round

while the world is spinning beyond

In stillness

In stillness

It lies

 

 

 

Unicorns


Last night I was visited by two Golden Unicorns. Interestingly I never knew that such a thing existed until I read about them the next day. They were agitated when I saw them, and surrounded by a glowing light, as though it was just after a storm and the sun was about to come out from  behind a cloud. I believe it was a male and female, but I’m not sure how I know this…I just did. And somehow, I was there to help them. They ran to and fro as I watched them.

They are drawn to gardens I read (but I did not know prior), and there was a woman too that I met. She was quirky and fey, in a greenhouse type structure, but outside too. This woman, with grayish hair, was moving plants from this large garden, from one pot to another. She was making more plants. I was hoping to apprentice with her.

It was a busy area, with many people, almost like a fair. I kept noticing people I knew from the past and present walking by me.

But the unicorns captured my attention. No-one else seemed to notice them. Maybe they were there for my eyes only. Their sighting brings me hope and delight. I know it means good things are in store for me. While it was a bit disturbing that they were upset, I hope I was there to help them too. And together we helped each other.

While I was meditating on their visit this morning, I recalled this piece of pottery that I found years and years ago. I’ve carried it around with me all this time…

Peace be with the Golden Unicorns…

The Music Of The Universe


Lately, in keeping with all the inner work I’ve been doing and with the great changes coming out of the last few years of my life, it has naturally moved me back to the more spiritual side of myself. In my past, the spiritual plane was almost equal to the plane in which I lived on a daily ‘normal’ basis. This meant I often felt very in tune with so much more around me and on a much deeper level: people, animals, the natural landscape and of course: the mystical.

Then, the course of my life got in the way, and this beautiful and magical part of my life slipped away  without me really noticing. The spiritual habits that I had practiced left me; all the ‘unexplained coincidences’ that would so often pop up joyfully in my life seemed to disappear and life just became a dull and routine existence.

Like so many of us, the tether to the unknown–to that thing beyond us–(call it what you may), isn’t always there unless you are really looking or open to it. Many just don’t believe, being simply too rooted in reality.

But we all have our own scopes of what reality may be. And I know that my reality had encompassed many things which could not be explained by scientific or simple explanations. You just had to be there to understand. To have faith in the powers and energies that flow. And I did.

So the time has gently begun to seem right, bit by bit, to reemerge within my spiritual self. To put back on my garland crown and flowing robes and step back into the circle once again. And I feel my power returning like an old friend. It was just waiting for my call.

My dreams have been full of visions, visitations and clarity. I use a dream book that I have to help interpret them and I’ve been writing them down in my journal, along with other long and inspired thoughts about my journey.

My interactions with people feel more purposeful and I am often drawn into deep conversations on a sidewalk with neighbors. Seeing people now brings me warmth rather than anxiety and I’m happy to share these moments and feel they are all meaningful.

Most things now feel part of my plan, that I am drawing all things to me. Some days I pick a tarot card to see what it might say, and often it will reflect what I have been feeling during my meditation. That nothing is random: I am creating this reality around me.

It has a been a very long walk to this place of inner peace; to be able to shrug off the demon within each time it threatens to claw its way to the surface. And now that I am dancing on my spiritual path once again, my peace is sweeter: for finally  I can hear the music of the Universe with my whole soul.

Benches


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As she sat quietly on the bench, she recalled so many times of reflection. Times of stopping, of sitting still to breathe and think of her life. It wasn’t always easy to create these moments, to stop the moving train that was her life, long enough, to simply see what was around her.

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These benches were everywhere. Even if people were around, they could cradle her; let her thoughts roll through her mind, easing the turbulence with the help of the surrounding landscape. They were guardians, givers and saviors.

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Sometimes she would be present, sometimes drift off to another place.  Somehow they were conduits of time travel: as though a space had opened up and she slipped into it and could go forward or back, depending on her mood. Because of this, she walked in places long forgotten, places of lost love or deep pain. The remembering, though, somehow put it in an ethereal plane, so the visitation became moments of healing.

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Some places to sit weren’t really benches at all, but still created for her the right second to watch a sunrise. Just the act of seeing one could erase months of chaos in her soul.

She remembers now these sacred vessels and can recall far into childhood how many she has visited. From cities to the middle of nowhere, the times she took to just stop and sit–to contemplate, meditate and be quiet.

And now she wonders: where are all the benches yet to come?

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