A Blasted Patience

From Twin Flames Sacred Keys Facebook

From Twin Flames Sacred Keys Facebook

Waiting
A burr in my sock
A stone in my shoe

Waiting
A panther paces a cage
Back and forth to nowhere, soon

Waiting
Restlessness gnaws at ankles
Like a puppy held back from a ball

Waiting
All dressed up, but nowhere to go
Devilish boy, I got no number to call

Waiting
In every face, peering
Looking for that recognition

Waiting
A dime a dozen they come
But dagnabit I look only for one

What Matters

Uploaded from a 2011 TED talk "The Rediscovery of Wonder"

Uploaded from a 2011 TED talk “The Rediscovery of Wonder”

In the things that matter there is a hunger
It arrives, first, as desperation and fear
But like stages of grief it changes
Initially, it comes and is denied
Then raged at for its lack of presence
Finally, pleaded with to come soon
Then silence

Eventually the things that matter
Arise out of us to be fed
Not by another, but by our own heart
This is met with mild disbelief
Then curiosity
Finally, delicious amusement
Then silence

Night Rain

From the roof of my hospital: Photo by Noelle

From the roof of my hospital: Photo by Noelle

The hour is late and sleep should have long since found me, but instead I lay and listen to the steady rain upon the roof. It had been snow earlier, but now the temps hold above freezing and it comes down in taps obliterating any evidence that winter once lived here. I feel an odd sorrow for her passing, but know it will be brief. By weekend’s end this same rain will fuel an eruption of life that this dark, wet night hardly can ponder.

In the the light of my neighbor’s window cast upon the ceiling of my room, I see the rain drops running down the windows as shadows moving above me. I am reminded of old grief that once felt as heavy as the vanishing wet snow, but now, like rain to the irises in their beds it is the fuel to a heart breaking through dirt.

The bed is warm and dry, the cats snuggled close and asleep. It seems a shame to drift off to sleep in this cozy cocoon, but even butterflies must rest to break free.

Sacred Imperfection

On the Hiking Path: Photo by Noelle

On the Hiking Path: Photo by Noelle

“As long as the ego runs your life, most of your thoughts, emotions, and actions arise from desire and fear. In relationships you then either want or fear something from the other person. What you want from them may be pleasure or material gain, recognition, praise or attention, or a strengthening of your sense of self through comparison and through establishing that you are, have, or know more than they. What you fear is that the opposite may be the case, and they may diminish your sense of self in some way. When you make the present moment the focal point of your attention–instead of using it as a means to an end–you go beyond the ego and beyond the unconscious compulsion to use people as a means to an end, the end being self-enhancement at the cost of others. When you give your fullest attention to whoever you are interacting with, you take past and future out of the relationship, except for practical matters. When you are fully present with everyone you meet, you relinquish the conceptual identity you made for them–your interpretation of who they are and what they did in the past–and are able to interact without the egoic movements of desire and fear. Attention, which is alert stillness, is the key.

How wonderful to go beyond wanting and fearing in your relationships. Love does not want or fear anything.”
~ Eckhart Tolle

I happen to love this quote, but I must confess I wonder if I shall ever achieve what it suggests. Though I spend a daily habit in embracing what is here, I find myself fluctuating between the extraordinary ordinary preciousness of this now and the seeming forgetfulness of an ego on speed. Struggling, often, to be this self-aware, awake, and evolved being all the great Mystics speak of. On paper we can all sound amazingly evolved, but I wonder if Tolle, Tuttle, Kabat-Zinn or Foster have to, themselves, remember their own teachings, again and again. Sometimes Alice’s rabbit hole is a donut that has no bottom.

I remember seeing the Dalai Lama speak. He opened with the following, (paraphrased, of course) “Look I am just a man. Look here. See? One eyebrow goes up and the other goes down. One has tufts of hair growing out, while the other doesn’t. There is no perfection here. I am an ordinary person like you. I am a sacred being as much as you, which is really all any of us are. Sacred imperfection.” I don’t remember what else he talked about, but I remember him pointing at his eyebrows and laughing heartily at his own aging body. I find immense comfort in that, and so, it is what I take into this day. My sacred imperfection.

On the Hours Go

image
In the long hours, I pace
Magazines finished, reruns watched
And on the hours go

Windows peered at, mail opened
Cabinets closed, dishes stacked
And on the hours go

Apps clicked, messages checked
Empty food wrappers, pitched
And on the hours go

Closets cleaned, laundry folded
A second cup of tea, dirty in the sink
And on the hours go

Who am I in all this restlessness?
Who stands before the fridge, again?
And on the hours go.

Like the old widows of old
I wait at this house, for whom to come I do not know
And on the hours go

Not Broken

Sunset storm over the Rockies: Photos by Noelle

Sunset storm over the Rockies: Photos by Noelle


Fiery warrior
Sweat covered face
Bitter salt in mouth
Broken
Broken
Again and
Again
Dirt in nails
Bloodied thighs
Will not break!
Broken
Broken
Again and
Again
Thirsty for more than water
Desperate for more than home
Bags of tricks all gone
Broken
Broken
Again and
Again
Spirit crushes there is only gnashing
Sprirt tears away there is only wrapping
Spirit loves and venom comes spitting
Broken
Broken
Again and
Again

Broken
Nothing left, such tragic weeping
Confusion consumes a rotted mind
Broken
Broken
Again and
Again
Bleeding out old stories
Quiet, a battlefield stretcher
Blindness and fear pool in the dirt
Broken
Broken
Again and
Again

Love, a silent dawn
Sleeping, an old hound at the feet
Reliable, loyal, persistent as the sun

Fiery warrior
Sweat covered face
Only salt in mouth
Rising
Rising
Again and
Again
Not dead, just empty
Not lost, just arrived
Not broken
Not broken
Again and
Again

Happy Easter

I do not celebrate Easter, as I’m not a Christian, but I am a huge fan of resurrection. Rising from the dead. All of us have been there. Losses, traumas, unexpected tragedies – that laid us out. Laid us out flat. Destroyed the life we once new and left us completely lost and hopeless. In those moments we think we’ll never get up, never live again, but then something happened. We got up. Maybe shaky and wobbly at first, but we got up. We started walking. Maybe we didn’t even know what direction to go, but we started walking anyway. We survived. Many of us did more than that, we began to grow and thrive. We recovered and made ourselves anew. Like the Phoenix we built ourselves from the ashes, turning the gray soot into colorful wings.

Resurrection is not so much an event, as a process available to all of us. We each can resurrect our lives no matter how battered and torn up they may seem. So I wish you all a very Happy Easter. May this day bring hope to the most beleaguered souls out there, that you can live again, even if right now you feel your life is dead.