make me see it

Why's it so hard to believe in
something beyond yourself?

 I guess sometimes the lens that we're looking through just blurs our sight. But then sometimes it makes things clearer. Sometimes it's darker than the night. It's a lens. We can try to see through it or wallow in our blindness. Wow. Crap shoot. Die or be buried. Live or fly. Sometimes it's just the lens we're looking through, huh?

Sometimes it's the people we're looking with.

Where is love in the darkest night?
I thought the magnet of my giving
would bring me something
to believe in

How can love be wrong?
How can my heart keep on breaking
in the madness, in the making
of this thing I thought was love?

Why can't life be as simple as a dictionary?
Why can't the force of love be as
alive as the coming of the waves or the
calling of the grave...

to slay that which hides our face from love?

Show me. Please.

The best exotic marigolds do tell.

"We have a saying in India-Everything will be alright in the end. If it is not yet alright, then it is not yet the end."

Shine!

Rise!
Leap from the cold, hard ground
You
will teach us how to fly

Be!
Linger in this magic
You
are life's sweetest perfection

Shine!
Step into the light
You
are a gift to the world

Heavenly

This drop is not the ocean's movement
nor is every note the symphony's genius
Each tear is not shed for just this sadness
whose injustice is not this particular madness

If when you call my name you leave behind
that which called on you to re-define
and you will be with me, when your soul heeds
as you choose not to call LIFE by life's sad deeds

when you LIVE among the sprouts of JOY
in that space between the wrong and right
the home of memory's eternal yearning
in the making of love's sweetness churning

in that place where I will always find you...
Ohhhh...I think they call this heaven

Eye on the prize

My little joke of late, to make light of my temporary woes, is to keep my eye on the prize. What is the prize? Being done with worrying...letting go of the need to control a situation...being free of a person who imprisons you with their drama or malice (or both)...or if you're a true champion-being good with what is?

It's no secret to those close to my heart, that I've been having a hard time with some things. I haven't been fighting it because I'm smart enough to know that none of this will kill me. Life taught me that. But not fighting it doesn't mean that I'm not standing up to it. Its new meaning is just that I don't see it as unfair. I'm not its victim. I'm just the person playing this part right now. Maybe this is a part that I need to play. I need to see what needs to be done. I need to see what my opponent is seeing, feeling and needing as well.

But where is the prize for my friend who has lost her child? Is survival that prize? Is that all she gets from this? Some freak accident combined with an unfortunate physical deficiency has handed her the most excruciating death sentence, and her profession of truth is that we need to survive this. It's okay to kick and scream, she told me. "You have to," was her final punch.

So a grieving mom who has every right to be angry at the world, even at fucking LIFE, has made it so clear to me, that we have to win. Winning is not getting everything that we want or think we deserve-winning is BEING in spite of the shitstorms that try to drown us. WINNING is being happy in spite of the arrows and barbs that are slung at us by our enemies. Surviving it all is what defines our life. Winning is learning to be, or be happy, in spite of what we're looking at, or in my case, through.

This morning was one of those times that was painfully lonely. I felt it in my dreams before I even woke up, and awoke to the reality that my current pain is worse than I had wanted to credit it. It's even, possibly, worse case scenario of which I was warned. I can hear my little tirade chanting that "this does not define me" echoing across the sky and back again after hitting the hills across the valley. But maybe, just maybe-this DOES define me. Maybe my eyes are erupting as a manifestation of the truths that I've been hiding from. Maybe the prize is something I never thought to ask for. Maybe my eyes on this prize are more painful and real than I expected. Maybe this ugly truth that I need to see, is my prize.

Celebration of L*I*G*H*T

If life is unfair, then just how wretched is death? Per the happenings...maybe if we see Life as itself instead of its unfairness, we will see the light. Love is there-in its everything. In the smiles we've given to our children, in the breeze whistling through the pines, in the glory of the giving, and in the joy that we always find...in the space between what is and what is not. Sigh...

Not quite two years ago a beautiful person lost her love. Then she seemed to lose a lot more. Today she lost her child. I wrote this about her 22 months ago and she thanked me, expressing her appreciation for the gift. Just what are gifts? Nothing to be counted on or held to-only just something to warm our hearts, even if it's just for a while.

My heart is sick and broken tonight. I pray for my beautiful friend because I fear that her heart may never mend. There but for the grace of god, go so many of us. We all sit and imagine what it must be like, but we just can't know because we always have the escape hatch from the deepest muck when we can default to the truth that our heart does not actually know this reality. 


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 maybe
something to remember

Kindness and caring
are the 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 and found you
 in every setting sun
I lived pain and joy,
with and beside you,
and waited 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

Going for the One

Push hard

I did my best, which, was better than I had anticipated.

I am grateful and so very pleased.

A little more beautiful than I used to be, to boot.

It stings a little, for sure...but this will pass...the need to sting, that is.

Sometimes I don't even recognize myself as I become more like what I was born to.

Life happened and I twisted the plot a bit.

What was that need for drama? Was I running from nothing?

Laughter is a great medicine-when we don't take ourselves so seriously.

But here I am, a little taller and a bit wiser having re-alized what I came knowing.

Push hard, Little Laura. You've got this!

It's a smal world, after all...

Did you see it?
It was a glint of light
mingled with day before
turning to night

one small flash of wonder
as I danced through day's light
propelled by the magic
of this dream's lovely might

Did you hear it?
It was a note of splendor
which harmony joined
in the sweetest surrender

one small clash of thunder
that wakened the earth
as sweet spirits slept
awaiting their birth

Did you feel it?
moving just for a second,
the universe trembled
for it knew what my heart meant

one small jolt of motion
one heart can't stop beating
one soul for its wanting
one great dream for the taking

     -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -

(And I hovered over you today
I hope you do not mind
but as my heart was flying by,
I felt your soul in kind

just one quick flash of lightning
which caught my eye...
your dream's bright light-
lit up the sky)

...it is a small world!

Fearless

If the road to freedom is a barren abyss paved with jagged rocks, the only alternative is to remain misery's captured.  Either choice will be difficult, but only one choice will lead us to where we really need to be.

"The only way out is through, the faster we're in, the better." AM

Just do it, Little Laura. Fly!

Home, sweet home

This is my home
this is my center
when I fly with a hummingbird
or shine with a star
where I soar with a mountaintop
and roll with a boulder
when the earth shakes in fear

This is my nest
where I color a rainbow
or quench the earth
when I cry with the gods
or laugh with the ocean
rolling endlessly to
kiss the moistened shores

This is my home
where my heart goes
to be with you
where I once roamed with dinosaurs
where I held your hand and heart
where my light will shine
with you, forever

Entombed

What is a fish that can not swim
gills filled with air, listless little fins

What becomes of the bird who cannot fly
unable to dodge the predator's eye

Where is the day when there is no sun
with no moon by night, enslaved to none

What is a heart that knows not love?
For what, if any, then-could be enough?

You move me

An elapsing wave
now just water creeping
returns to the ocean,
to become the rolling
and rushing novel
unabashedly crashing again

A breaker ever changing
contrived of the arcane
born anew, swirling
to awaken
this perpetual current of
change which washes away

What it ever thought to be

Biopsy: testing of a mass to rule out that which kills

Any notion bought into by the mass(es) is bound to be a death sentence for any who do not subscribe. My subscription expired long ago when I opted out of any containment of magic, of the infinite, of eternity...of god.

Massive error...defining a belief. But I suppose there is a safe haven for a sleeping heart, encapsulated in belief. Just not for me.



ask not of love what love should give,
for the light of love is limitless

trap not this splendor in a jar,
for then the splendor would be gone

think not how far the light can reach,
for this, only the open heart can see

ask not of god what god is,
for god cannot be told by lips

Many times, recently, I have heard that the gift of grace is our birthright. That our love from God is a given, and that we have just to claim it. This makes me think of my own children and how I love them. Even when they are difficult and I wished they lived elsewhere, all I have to do is remember their first smiles, or their greatest accomplishments, and I'm back where I should be.

Does God ever despair about us? Do our judgments and misdeeds ever dishearten the greatest heart? Or is this love beyond measure so immune to our shortcomings, because it only sees the good? Does it know that everything else is merely a  stepping stone into a baptism of acceptance which will wash over us, over and over again- as the waves of the ocean kiss the shore? Or maybe, just maybe, there is no judgment, no "God." How could anything that is supposed to be pure love, EVER judge us? Maybe God is just the force of love this world has to offer. Maybe it's just the love inside of us...inside of me. Maybe I Am.

You must have been the heart of God
when Love was what God thought of

In the radiance of your loving kindness
You ignited the sky's lights by the billions

And in morning's gift of sky so blue, I swear-
God loves me more, when my thoughts are of you

In you, so right, I am blessed and beloved
for you must have been what God thought of

When God first thought to Love

Sitting, I watch the limbs bend in the breeze, and cower in the storm
In my numbness I watch the light succumb to the night's darkness,
before the darkness yields to morning's light
So how would I not feel and know another's truth?

I remember the time that I watched the fire consume the forest and its fringes
Today I party with the new baby greens... how is one ever more beautiful
than the other?

copacetic

Getting along with any situation, especially a difficult one, and coming out with a gift.

Coping with life's variations, differences, roadblocks and shitstorms.

Finding your way through a madness, to a resolution-even if it's not to your own satisfaction.

Feeling the pain of an assailant, as they slay you in the darkened night.

There is an aesthetic to coping-beyond the egoic boundaries-in a place of understanding-only seen in the light.

Some day, we will all see/be/kneel there.

I'll see you on the dark side of the moon...

dreaming is free

there was a brilliant glow turning black into light,
as breathlessly I beckoned the call of my flight
the earth stopped its spin, ending the race
tell me -
              what did I see before I saw your face?

the black sky was so still as if frozen in time
awaiting the change to a thaw most divine
then came morning's light melting ice into blue
tell me-
            what did I drink before I drank you?

tickled and silly and drowning in space
the euphoric end of hearts wild, without pace
I surrender to you and beckon this death
tell me-
            did I ever breathe before you were my breath?

a hungry mingling of souls' limbs to touch
this heated fury of waters that rush
swimming in a notion known by so few
tell me-
            what was love before I loved you?

DJ 03.16.13

We sat on a cloud so thick that it held us
all of us
the dream team, the bevy of beautiful
the workers of light

Not a cloud that gives rain, nor a cloud
that can be seen but with
the help of a greater eye- either a telescope
or the power of one

We surmised without doubt that
the reason of truth comes
when we close our eyes and cannot see
til we see, in our "dreams" what is real

We were all there
We were with you
Was it yesterday or a million
years ago? Or a billion beyond?

We held each other in the light
of love, in our truth
for there was no other
dream to live

Falling up

There was no crisper line that could ever
be drawn between the depth of night and the
eternal dawn where we drew with our eye
tho we could not see beyond this shadowing
smearing of torn clouds bleeding
gray across the sky

On the edge of darkness who could ever know
if we are falling or flying, above or below
in a pool of black or a palette of light
mixed with smatters or remnants of
love and light that streak the
sky with madness

In that place where my dark met your darkness
where all colors melted into one
not the illusory box of crayons that have
colored the matter of substance beyond
the lines which blind us as we, the darkened embers
rage fervently into this night

Love n light 2 U!

Turn me oh!ver

Writing my wrongs in this black box of shame

Humming some hims to erase all the blame

Kneeling before you, I’s lowered in shame

As pen-nance releases my runaway game

Whisper my seek-ret through these cuts in the steal

Where you hear me, and hold me and tell me to feel

So I squirm and erupt as I rise to my heals  

Shedding shame’s ugly skin, for flesh's a-peel

Holding me farther away from your hearth

where my lips cannot bellow your prodigal spark

Where our fire dares not flare to then fall apart

Hold me where the flame is real, not a shot in the dark

Righting your wrongs in this black box- no shame

Kneeling before me, you bowed down and I came

I dream of melting your tower of shame, as

I burn slowly, warmly- please don't dampen this flame

Til you gush your secrets through the holes in this fence
The wall crumbles between us, as we move to confess
And we shed all the wrongs, and move on to the best
In the light, in this love, we will truly be blessed

Pen-nance: The act of writing your wrong