Zeus

In an early morning hour I was abruptly woken by silence.  All that I could see beyond my door was the gray that clung to the pine branches.  Quiet was the obvious force which commanded me to look around and see that it was just me in a world of silence.

A few thoughts made their best efforts to muddle around my head, but I banished them all.  Especially the one that has been aching and nagging me.  "Pain, pain, go away, come back some other day..."


Before long I heard a noise which lingered in the distance. It soon came again, but with a bit more volume and vibration.  Thunder delightfully filled the air, my ears and my heart. What is it about that overpowering, omnipotent force to which our souls submit, that sets us free?  These reverberations of greatness always seem to calm me.  As my soul danced in the exhilaration of all of the mayhem, the gentle, steady rain began.

While I stirred my coffee I looked out and saw one hilltop, not too far away, loosely wrapped in a wispy ribbon of cloud.  Hey, thank you for the gifts.  Always, always, be thankful for whatever comes.

top shelf dreams

Fumbling in the dark trying to

Invent some new recipe

Just don’t even know

What to add anymore

Electricity’s gone out

Candles are fading

And dinner time

Is almost here

                        

Across the hills

Float sounds of
beckoned children
calling back to home

My belly’s growling

My mouth is salivating

My want is yearning

And the pan is burning dry

Not another hungry night

Please, not another one

In the pantry on the top

Shelf in the dark

Lined up bottles of this

And that

Some of them are empty

And some of them are shot

I grab at anything

It would have to be

Better than

Nothing at all

Gotta try it out

Gotta put something

In the pan

Or I’ll starve to death, for sure

In the dark closet

Where I can no longer see

What is on that top shelf

The bottom line is that

Even poison seems

Like sustenance

In the middle of

All of this hungering

It would be better to starve

this slow cruel death than to

Sear my insides on your

Burning, empty, charred skillet

It seemed so good

As I reached into the dark

For something that

Might save me

You were there

On the top shelf

With your bottom line

Watching me sizzle and burn

Faith

"Gratitude is a vaccine, an antitoxin, and an antiseptic." - John Henry Jowett
Find something to be thankful for in every moment and situation. This prevents disappointment from owning you, and empowers you with love and light. You can always be grateful for the strength and wisdom your current difficulty will leave you as a souvenir.  You know it will.

Saved by the quell

There was a time in my life when I was a control freak.  It was impossible to think that anyone could possibly have done things the way they needed to be done- my way.

One day I realized that all people were beautiful and smart, and had their own rights to perfection, as they saw it.  That was the day that I started to love life, and love others.

Now I like watching things unfold and enjoying the humor in all of our imperfections because imperfections are real (and sometimes they're damn funny!).  Perfection is not- it's just an impairment which prohibits us from living and breathing deeply.

Whew...

The Read Carpet

A giggle, a tickle, 

a sweet, steamy glance

A heart beat so thunderous

Might warrant this chance

This patience, this caring,

This broad understanding

You lingered, you tasted and

You hung from the rafters

In this land of abundance

Where rules are not

Written and the rent is

Nothing more than to be

Lovingly smitten

For the calling is only

Two sweet, beating hearts

And the living is free of

suppositions or darts

where scores are not kept

and blame is not met

for love is the gift

in each song that we script

so open so wide

is my heart

for the taking

and love is our

gift and ours for

the making

I lay red petals

Down along the path

To my door

And cite lyrical

Gems for you to adore

Come closer

Come closer

Come right through this door

And Love, lay me down

Sweetly now, and

Forever more

Morning has broken... me

Everlasting moment of my
eyes in their early morning's opening
show me birds flitting between
the pines and dancing
upon branches
the cool, morning breath
brushes my skin so tenderly
the breeze brushes
my tousled hair leaving
it kinda crazy
my feet touch the cool ground
as my toes spread wide and easy
upon the strong, gentle earth
can the earth sense my movement?
as I dance in jubilation
bowing to the points
encompassed in its fascination
PACHAMAMA, I do thank you
for all these gifts of morning
for the gratitude that wells inside
me in each new day's fine dawning
all within this moment
which lingers eternally...


Quiet has given me a renewed sense of wonder and an appreciation for the bliss that comes in each sweet breath drawn and then surrendered, when given in gratitude.  I wondered how a person so addicted to doing would survive this detour.  But I have surpassed survival and attained a new bliss and am thankful for all of this simple wonder even more than ever before.  Either that, or I am perhaps, just really good at being lazy!

Feargiveness

Someone recently asked about forgiveness.  After thinking about it for a little while the best definition that I can form is that forgiveness is love, when love isn't so easy to give.

Forgive and forget are two great strategies, but unfortunately since we are intelligent, thinking beings the forgetting part seems more impossible than natural.  When I think about times in my life when I have had to learn to forget, I can still begin to fidget a bit when I think about the hurts that I endured.  There's nothing wrong with this.  Hurt is hurt.  If you ignore it it's just going to hide and come get you in the night.  Hurt. And then become one with the feeling.  Then do it again when it comes up again.  And again when you have to.

Very few people make a conscious choice that sounds something like this, "I think I'm going to be really selfish and hurt Laura today.  No wait, perhaps I'll continue to hurt her for a long time..."  People do things without thought or intent, far more often than we realize.  What we must realize is that these people are love and are not diabolical strategists bent on ruining our lives.  Some of them, anyway.  Our feelings and reactions are the responsibilities of no one, but ourselves.

The greatest trick to forgiving is learning to forgive yourself.  When we are comfortable being one with our hurt or our guilt, we can move on (for the time being).  Realizing that we are only responsible for our own actions and reactions, and not those of anyone else, is the key to our freedom.  Sure, I can dwell on what an ex-husband did to me and I can hold a grudge because of failed promises that came up empty and I can be sore because I did keep my end of the bargain.  But those were MY choices to stay there, to take what he gave and to be bitter about it.

Tonight I was thinking about how wonderful it must be to be able to be whatever you are, and know that love will always be there for you.  During my marriage there were times when my husband was unbearable and I endured those, waiting for the better times to re-emerge.  I always honored him for the good that he was, in spite of what he wasn't.  I took the good with the bad, but for a long time I was angry at myself for doing that.  You know, when I excise all of the assignations of blame and responsibility from the situation, I am left with knowing that I loved well a lot of the time, and a clear knowledge of something to want for myself going forward.

Forgiveness definitely comes in stages and when we allow ourselves to honor the good and are not compelled to qualify the bad, we are a whole lot closer to freedom.  The important thing in all of this, I believe, is wanting to forgive, or wanting to remember the love that we have for someone- even when they don't make it easy for us.  When the storm finally subsides we are often left with a new arrangement which sometimes means there will be a different relationship, but as long as we honor the good in ourselves and our others, there is light with us, even in the darkness, and this is nothing to fear.

last call

As this day dims I am swaddled in the truth that it doesn't matter what did or didn't happen.  It doesn't matter how hard or tasty or sweet anything was.  If it was done with honor, in earnest, and with enthusiasm- it was a day well spent.  And it was.

Sweet dreams...

A celebration of L*I*G*H*T

Isn't it like a setting sun
which you think your eyes will
no longer see
yet that bright light suddenly blinds
you, peeking through the filtered
leaves

Isn't love that way?
When you think you  have lost its
bright wonder...
but then it sneaks up
on you in a smile,
or something to remember

Kindness and caring
are life's greatest gifts for the living
but as candles and photos fade
these gifts cannot be cremated
by the cold of ordinary,
thermic flames

I walked the world to find
you in every setting sun
I lived pain and joy, with and beside you,
and I wait for you in each new rising
And now that you're gone you mean
more than ever

Isn't life funny
how its gifts so few are plenty
and that it matters not how many..
because when the light slips away
your love still warms me...

ALWAYS and forever


*for beautiful Sue

Bricks or stones

How do you tear down a wall
that isn't really there?
If its constructs are merely
imagination's deepest fear?

How do you slay a dragon
with its fiery, fatal breath?
When fantasy alone cannot
challenge you to death?

How do you not drown
in spite of your life which suffocates you?
How do you live in solace
when love is all around you?

You cannot see with your
scorched brown eyes, from behind your brick and mortar
You have chosen instead to call on death
and hide within its shelter

bricks or stones

can break your bones

but love will never harm you

The Hotel Durant

Sitting in the window

Of my fashionable hotel

I sip the Pinot Grigio

As the waiter walks away

Looking at the crowd

All the people passing by

Looking back at me as if

I was a monkey on display

There are giggling girls

And neck-cranked leering boys

There’s a mom with a stroller

Mesmerized by her beautiful baby as he fades away

I lift my glass, keeping constant my gaze

Through my white wine

I see an orchestral and colorful movement,

A spiraling haze

The waiter returned and placed

My lunch on the crisp white tablecloth

His finger covered in a bright blue

Rubber finger tip, part of which looked purple

Ahhhh… fish with mango tartar sauce…

Turning back with a small bite in my mouth

I see an older couple standing crowded in a doorway

Eating hot dogs in their buns… together

A dark skinned woman with shorts that are

Way too small hurries her skinny partner-lover

Along the crowded road

And he obliges

My own summer browned skin

That makes people stare

I admire for a moment against

The sparkling silver wares- no one sees it, but me

And I look up and wonder why the

Dark skinned woman who is too fat

And too harsh, is so loved

By the skinny man

Or why was the pony-tailed man

In the jeans too short

Escorted by the kindness

Of another life, of course?

The waiter asked if I wanted more wine as

A drop of blood fell from his purple rubber finger

Hitting the table with a silent thud

As I sit alone in the window, pretending not to notice

Making me wonder…

In my fashionable hotel

as I sit alone with my summer browned skin

And my beautiful clothes

Do you think

perhaps

I should be drinking

Red wine

Through which
they cannot,

My envy,

see?

Dictionordinary

How can you define something that means
something different to each person?
How can you call a color
just one color?
When it means something
different to each or the other?
How can you call it chirping
when each bird is
singing of a different
sunset, or calling a different warning?
How can you call it sweet
when you don't know
how it tastes on his tongue
or hers- or on mine?
What is this love
that you speak of?
How do you know how it wakes me
or breaks me
or calls me its own?

Breakfast at Henry's

As hard as yesterday was in a physical sense for me, it yielded a joyous sigh of relief. My son who has in the past been a prisoner of anxiety, has chosen to not let this demon steal his dream.  It's been so long since Frank has been on a road trip, but he insisted on being the captain of the road, as we rocketed across the Grapevine to this beautiful city.  He chose courage and enthusiasm to be his lights as I watched him, smiling, greeting his future class and study mates.  My soul was thrilled over dinner, when he shared how he already connected with the faculty and leaders of his philosophical future.

Whew.  It's been a rough road, during which I often worried, cried and fretted about the future.  But there were so many times that I threw my hands up, yelling "WHEE!" and made it here in one piece.  The latter, were the times most worth remembering.

Frank slept in this morning so I put on a pretty skirt and scarf, grabbed an easy read, and headed down to the restaurant, Henry's.  There was one obvious choice on the menu, the Breakfast Banana Split!  It was a split banana with cottage cheese and vibrant fresh fruit, drizzled in a slightly sweetened raspberry sauce and roasted almonds.  Too pretty to eat, I took its picture and then dug in.  Damn, but life is good.  Looking around at all of the beautiful decor, including a big, white owl on the serving cabinet, I chose to let all the beauty of the moment fill in the spaces between all that was.

Dreaming about how much fun we are going to have today as we visit Moses Hall (the Philosophy hub at Berkeley), buying t-shirts, checking out more vegan restaurants, and talking about the excitement of Frankie's dreams... I remembered how hard and painful yesterday was.  I had to quit the orientation half way through because of my pain.  Looking down at my crutches I noticed how pretty the polished metal was in that beautiful glowing light of morning.  My heart took my thoughts away from my mind, reminding me of all that I have learned because of this injury, and in that moment I also pictured the woman who cleaned my hotel room yesterday.  Earlier in the morning I was angry when I realized that my favorite eye shadow was gone, but in that heart's bursting I wished her a feeling of joy- hoping that my gift made her feel more beautiful.

It is in that space, and that choice in every moment, that we have the ability to choose what we want to be... what we want to feel... and what we invite back to us.

Om nama shivaya!

Giggling

Last night's patio respite was so refreshing as the cool breeze tickled me and the waning sun still warmed me.  Hearing the loud thunder of distant planes approaching, I turned and admired my three pines, the holy trinity.  Having labeled them Me, Myself and I Am, my awe erupts each time we meet.

The sound of the planes overtook the air as I watched the tips of the trees, with two F-something fighters emerging in the clear sky.  Sitting, wondering why there were not three of them (to rival the numeric quality of my blessed trio aka my OCD patterning requisites) a bird suddenly took off from the tree on the left, frantically flapping its wings, seeming to be racing the planes, or become part of them- it flew in the same line as they did.

Oh how I laughed.  The universe is very funny.

Dreaming

It is a pleasure to be in the company of someone who is realizing the birth of their dreams.   Within this past week alone I have had the honor of sharing the soul secrets of two beautiful friends who have been working hard and making it happen. 

I know that I have the strength, the drive, the smarts, the perseverance and even some capital to make things happen.  The only thing I'm missing is the dream. 

Today I'm going to pray for a dream.

Dead Man, Walking

Yesterday was a somber day filled with tear bursts and memories.  My inner wisdom  kept whispering to me, that death is a part of life.  This morning when I woke and realized that yesterday was not just a bad dream I remembered so many sweet things.  Interspersed with sadness, filtered in joy and happiness, leaving in its wake, gratitude for what was, and what made and makes the world better.  Love never dies and kindness is never wasted.

Having no ability to concentrate this morning I read little quips here and there and rested in the beauty of tried and true wisdom.  The older I get, the more clever clichés become.  I wish they weren’t so COMMON, but revered for their intensifying accuracy.  But so is life… always deepening in meaning and in heart.

Careful what you wish for… there’s another good cliché for you.  The morning of Memorial Day I decided to take a few minutes extra to practice my fire ceremony which allows me to expel negativity while inviting goodness in.  One of my greatest challenges of late has been surpassing tolerance, and attaining understanding.  Tolerance, to me, implies that you are just putting up with something.  If you truly see the light in all beings, then you will accept, embrace and love someone, without any consideration of flaws or shortcomings. This is where I would rather be, but...

Slow people bug me.  The lack of energy, enthusiasm and light, topped with the lack of consideration for the people whom they are affecting, all just bite my ass.  So in my meditation I asked that my shortness of patience for slow people be taken from me. If this could be replaced with a non-judgmental acceptance, I could truly love them without seeing their blocks.  I would understand the beauty in each one of their slow-roasted souls.

That afternoon when taking one giant step, I turned to grab the hand-rail and POP! I went down and couldn’t get up.  Some people came and helped me stand, but there was no way that leg was gonna’ work.  It’s been three weeks now and I’ve regained some use of my leg, and the surgeon will fix it, with a brand new ligament screwed through my bones.  A few months of physical therapy after that and I will be ready to take short walks again.  A few more months and I will most likely be back on the trails with my Pooch.

 In these weeks I have seen how tiring life can be, physically.  I have seen how cruel and inconsiderate the quick-paced of the species can be.  I have seen how difficult it can be to navigate through the simplest of tasks.  I have seen how impeded my own thinking has been due to pain, exhaustion, and frustration. And I have seen how slow and steady is what will finish this race.

The doctor told me that I will have to choose whether to use a graft of my own tendon or a cadaver ligament.  My initial reaction was complete disgust with the thought of a dead person’s parts inside of me.  The only thing that fueled continued consideration of this option is the fact that it is a lot less painful and a faster recovery.   

Yesterday afternoon before heading out I rested with my leg up, and turned on the television.  HBO was broadcasting a special about people who donate their bodies to science. The sweet man that I was honored to know, who had just lost his life, kept popping into my head as the film showed one dead body after another, but these thoughts of him made death feel a little bit softer.  I tuned in just in time to watch the segment on ligament harvesting and processing.  EWWWWW.  But then one of the med students spoke not of what he was learning, but of what a gift these people were giving, to help others.  Suddenly the horror of a dead body turned into a realization of kindness and love, and I was moved from beyond my narrow fixation in fear.  Now the thought of a cadaver ligament no longer meant anything other than love and light living on.

My new understanding helped me realize that someone who will never breathe, see, touch, taste or feel, cared enough, and will help me walk again.

So I guess I got more than I knew that I was asking for.  Life is good that way.  Of course, when I work on my patience and understanding of stupid people I think I’m just going to quietly practice, and hope for the best.

; )

Dancing Nancies

Sometimes I wish I was not human
with flesh and heart that tears
how wondrous it would be to
be the green from way out there

To know the truths of life
and love
to minister to them
from above

as setting sun and
beaming moon
as whispering pines
divulging their tunes

I wish I was any
one of these
or a spider in
the sweet green tree

whose mission is ne'er
but a requisite quest
but then how would
I be truly blessed

if I were anything but me?

Sally

Last night when I prayed I held my hands together tightly, close to my heart.  An old woman appeared and asked me what I wanted.  More than divulging my desires, I wanted to know who SHE was.  With a sympathetic giggle she told me that she was the one who knew what I wanted. 
Scanning her colorful, lively attire and glistening, long, white hair, that sense of familiarity rushed over me as I realized that I had met her before. 
The question then became, why do I keep forgetting her?

It's time

The wind is blowing...
the wind changes every thing
it moves and awakens
as it dances and sings

Fear

Not even life-threatening, this thing that aches me.  But it scares me more .  I asked each one of the people that love me to hold my hand, but they each could not.  So I guess I'm going it alone.  I don't know why I'm scared, but I am.
Maybe, sometimes, even the ocean runs dry.  Mountains tumble down.  I wish I had someone to hold me up and fill my cup.  But I don't. I pray that someday I will.
So I'll just find a way to get by.  I always do.