DJ 07.31.12 (an afternoon nap)

Listening to the wind whispering through my pine trees, I can hear nothing else. Just three trees-a drop in the universal thicket of sound. What if, all of our ethereal voices joined to echo the laughter of the universe, the voice of compassion, the trumpets of love and life? What if we all joined in that harmony? Could anything else be heard? Ever?

Kinda' funny, how loud a whisper can be!

a good death

When I let go I can see things

I never thought to think to see

The swirls in the lucky stained glass heart

Or the curves within the witch’s ball

The fly who perches upon my glass

Whether he’s licking the salt or craving the lime

All things that I see when I take the time

And sometimes I remember how it felt

Driving down that road with the wind

Blowing furiously, my longish hair, in my face

Sticking to my glossy lips, which smile

When I touch them because life,

In spite of itself, is more beautiful

Than its hardness that once petrified me

And made me bleed from my repentant knees

If just for a little while

But death is so good

When it clears the way for

Sticky lips and glassy curves

And stained, swirling glass

That always, always makes me smile

For

No reason other than,

Being beautiful, being lucky...
being blissed

DJ 07.30.12

First glimpses of light befriend the fingers of the trees
the hands of freedom not yet flying, safely nested
bowed in reverence, wings held in prayer
silence fills souls that lay sleepily dreaming in bed
Not yet woken, life understands its love of goodness
when the morning stars sing together
and all sons of man shout in joy
as the earth quietly dreams a deeper dream

and we are ONE
ONE heart
ONE love
ONE world
ONE
in the absence of knowing
One day we will awaken and remember the dream

good mourning

When your heart hurts and you can't feel the living
when the sun does not burn through the morning gray
when the absence of flitting, flapping birds stunts the forest
and laughter cannot be seen, felt or heard
you breathe in the cold and quiet gray

until your heart beats again

Pain becomes unbearable only when you keep fighting it. In your mind, the land of fear and distorted reality, pain is magnified. Blown up into an unconquerable monster that will torture you emotionally and physically, you hide from pain. But this insurmountable affliction is not real. Stick a pin in it and see it evaporate into the condensed puddle of tears it will actually cry. There is no flood that will drown you. Don't run from pain. Be with it. Let it. And then ride the night into the splintered light of morning, then into the brightness of the day.

it matters

Getting into heaven or acquiring good karma are not my motives for practicing compassion or doing good things. When I am even one nth of a reason that someone's life/day/moment is better, I am in heaven and I have already received my reward. It's that simple.

DJ 07.25.12

Kneeling before a white stone altar, with my forehead touching the ground as if we were exchanging our views-
I heard the call to sacrifice, in a sweet voice's song, and without question-
placed my heart on the table
Blood dripping and streaming heavier with each post-mortal pulse
making its way over the bull-nosed edge, falling slowly, only when it had pooled heavily, into the ground below
My white garment's knees stained with my own blood, I watched the pulsing drain my own heart of its thickened, nebulous waters
Til it was no longer dripping, no longer seeping-
life was gone

Til the rains started falling, washing away the pain-ted debris, quenching, cleansing, and anointing me

Yes, it is a good day to die. May my death be a good one.

:) Rain dance

Intimacy

Teacher, Teacher, teach me love

The thing about me is that I will gladly pay higher taxes
and give more than I need to give
to divert the hunger of a beloved grandmother
or a cherished baby
or its sweet little puppy

And even stranger still, I suppose
is that if a starving man
were robbing my house I would
help him fill his bag
and bake him cookies for the road

If my friend should choose to persecute me
for these decisions which bleed HIS heart dry
then let me hand him the nails
let me carry my cross
let me turn the other cheek

For in doing so I hear with a
new ear
and see with a new eye
and love with a new heart
And we all win

Had I not sinned against many men
'ruined' the lives of those who chose to love me
not taken from people what should have
been theirs to love
I would not know the power of redemption or
the value of forgiveness

Haven't we all sinned against life,
against man?
Haven't we all had to learn to do pennance?
If we take an eye for every eye,
how will we ever see the good?

Hmmmm... but a world full of blind men definitely diminishes the most devastating judgments of all. Maybe we could just love each other for what we really are and not how we look, or how we feel. But maybe, for how we listen, or gasp...how we love.  Sigh...

The spoils of war

Isn't there always a bigger picture than just what lies on your table? Like the people who built the roads that you drive to get the food...
the farmers who tilled the land
the hands who plucked it?
the one who invented the machines that prep the crops
the ones who learned from the droughts
and the locusts
How about that guy who toiled and
sacrificed to bring you an engine?
You did nothing on your own, for
you were fed and educated by countless others
Give thanks for them
and their wisdom
and their sweat, blood and tears.

And when the time comes to change
be with the force that honors improvement
the one that turns the other cheek,
even if the spoils are not your own
Can you be life and courage and something
beyond yourself?

Can you be anything other than greed?

Can you honor  the path of another, even if
it costs you pennies?
What about your pride?
Can you sacrifice that for a little while
whilst the unloved brother learns a little something?
Would it kill you?
The way your gun kills him as  he
tries to feed his family,
rummaging through your own riches?
Can you not turn your cheek to see something a
little bit different?

There is nothing to win in righteousness
other than a shiny, empty, obligatory medal
that says you're right.

I'll take second, third or last- any day
if my brother somehow,
wins something, first

When one wins anything worthwhile,
even the losers share the spoils of war.

The power of now

Now is the time to do it
Now is the time to open your eyes
and ready your heart
Now is the time to make a difference
in the way the world cares
Even if only in your tiny corner
only if the awareness and the change
Are as big as the magnificence
within you
It's still bigger and better
than what it used to be
Now is as perfect a time as any
Now is where we are
and always will be

It will find me...

At the end of every dark and lonely night, comes the light

Bleeding

Last night's soft rains
of a billion purging drops
become the morning's dew-
today's cleansing,
quenching renewal
a well so deep and
sometimes, seemingly cruel
but whose waters feed me
and make me, always
something different than
I ever thought that I would be

little yellow flowers

 

Clearing the stagnant clutter

in the pile of good intentions

to find only one little remnant

of a memory which I once thought to love

Hadn't I exorcised this demon

a hundred times before?

Had I not freed the hostage

of my will, my hope, my yearning?

The little yellow flowers meant

nothing to me in terms of wishes

anymore, nothing instead of reality's dream

now just the day's light, burning

And yet I stared, wondering

what

why

when

how

why not?

And when I let it go

I saw beautiful yellow flowers

for what they were and

not for what I had once wished them to be

For they are beautiful

and love is always lovely

and only weightless, soaring high toward heaven

can we fill the emptied, ready heart with glee

Last year I rented a dumpster to dispose of the unnecessary, remnant junk that was weighing me down. I THOUGHT I might have trouble filling it. But I filled it three times, each time to the point of overflowing. Sometimes you have just got to burn down the house. And sometimes, what survives becomes the surprise gift you never saw coming. Gratitude for good, in spite of bad. Let me always be bathed in this grace, and in the love you gave me- even if it was just for a little while. 

 For everything that is bathed in the light of grace, is, and always will be, love. 

Bow to your own heart, your greatest teacher.

shadowing truth

Against the setting sun my shadow walks beside me
Darkness is that blurry sight which cannot be denied

Walk alone, I cannot, as my shadow is my companion
We hold it all, we hold it close- for it and I are two but one

Today I told my shadow of the glory of the wanting,
the joy of all the sorrow and the bliss for all the trying

Her darkness did not wane nor did it call surrender
her weightless darkness stretched itself and grew a little thinner

a.musing

Wonder does not begin with a thought
or end with a sensation
It is in being the fluid, selfless
essence that is present
with no beginning or end
with no form or expectation
it is simply being a part of,
in ecstasy

I think

Film grain

Just another night

just another kiss

can ordinary sustain itself once

you've captured splendor and known its bliss?

Were you just another knight

giving me just a little love

can magnificence be contained

in a mere pallet of watered colors?

Was it just another flower

laid on just another heart

or was the magic of the giving

to become the fervor of this art?

For this night is beautiful

beyond my eyes' belief

not just another night

but the burning memory of something

that colors my heart
etched effortlessly into what becomes me
across the hallowed skies of night
into eternal sweetness...

Color my world with hope
You were
you are
you will always be
with me

                 

Uncanny answer

	The card represents the critical factor for the issue at hand. Pisces: An imaginative and otherworldly dreamer, selfless and empathetic. Inner duality, balancing loving tolerance and righteous anger. Kindness and compassion resulting from dedicated introspection. Mysticism and uncanny intuition. The plea was the usual...make me more beautiful

DJ 07.09.12

Like the weed so wild
that will not wilt
I grow quickly, without thought
in the depths of heat and hunger

til the rains come, bring it to me

Pulling the covers over my face...

DJ07.06.12

I asked for a new dream before slipping away last night. But none came to me. In the early morning's whispers I was reminded that I attract what I am really putting out. I heard myself wondering why, then, am I not loved? Could I still be fearing love? I asked to be shown how to dream something a little better.

Morning, love...

You rose,
arousing me from my sleep
with a kiss
upon my mouth so deep,
so sweet
Just one dreamy drop
trickled down the grassy blade
til the light still unseen
begins the luminous trade
From night to day
in splinters the light
as irridescent shards radiate
from within
Til a million blades
and one billion lights
envelop my soul
what a glorious sight
Creeping slowly
suddenly rising to form
as night turns to kiss
the misty mouth of morn

be.ing

Flowers in gardens
a multitude of pretty
but what about those
that grow in the wild
the ones that survive
in the heat of thirst
the one that lives to
kiss just one bee
all alone in the field
midst the weeds
all alone
without a gardener
or a cool garden hose
or someone
to adore its beauty
Is it not more lovely
for all it has done
to live and to grow
and to be
beautiful?

Show me something real
show me your wounds and your
battle scars- what you have become
show me your withered leaves
so beautiful
for having lived
for having grown
for having longed
to be loved by the bees
so I can see you
show me something beautiful,
please

DJ 07.03.12

Believe in the power of grace. When we least expect it, a new door will open and the light of grace will illuminate our next step.

Illumination.

Every great truth is only as true, as it is new in each birth into each of its subsequent, new realities.

On many long journeys have I gone. And waited, too, for others to return from journeys of their own. Some return; some are broken; some come back so different only their names remain. -Yoda

.surrender

Isn't it better to bleed
than not to?
To break cleanly, than
to be jaggedly ripped?
Would it not be better to cry
than to drown in the
flood of your own
stagnant pool of pain?
Jump through the air
and be blessed by the thrill
of the fall
not broken as you tumble down
the mountain side, ripping and
bumping against every jagged edge,
slowly, painfully dying?

The morning of the densest fog
I remember it well
I thought it looked as if I
would drown in its depth,
suffocate in its thickness...
til I swam through its wonder,
weightless
in the space between the drops
the place where pain and blood
and death
are what save you
from yourself

The morning I jumped
to my death
and in that moment
I lived forever

surrender:attachment to friggin' nothing other than the ecstasy of "is"