lucid thinking

Sometimes the heaviness
presses in from all sides; from inside.
Moments later the whole sky is open,
and opening me.
Watching and waiting is the secret power
that heals
the subtle and the seen.
The breath, the silken thread which conquers walls of stone.
It is the love of water which holds the pine in the earth,
not it's affection for the soil.

little bird

Little bird flying-
face windward, feathers awry
green nest high above

Sea change

I have played on the magnificent shore
too long.
With my child's feet, small
against the waves
lightly imprinted on the sandy beach.
__________________

Growing heavier
with each sunset,
each sunrise,
burning and soothing in equal measure.

Some days captivated entirely,
unmoving
unafraid
wishful
and alone.

Some nights intoxicated by the stars,
invisible in the night,
silent witness to the gentle, lapping water
annihilated by the raging storms.
____________________

Today,
at this water's edge
I stand.
With adult feet,
sunk deep into the rough earthiness,
calves splashed by the wetness of the sea,
with each step I take,
I touch,
and they touch me.

Fire Burns Through

When the fire burns
the Great Oak Tree,
the Rowan,
or the Yellowwood,

When it burns through-
insiduous at first, scattering small animals
with its smoke,

When it burns through-
a tired, old earth-stalker
settling at the base of the great tree,

When it burns through-
hades-fingers tearing,
tearing through the skin and sinews into the fat flesh

When it burns through-
that tall trunk,
scaling the broad beams like a cat burglar on heat

When it burns through-
the shining sundrop-soaked leaves,
steaming and shriveling into ash

When it burns through-
to the skyward shafts,
splitting their silver selves

When it burns through
and the stationary, ageless beast
crumples,
spiralling finally down, down
into the dirt

When it burns through-
till even the fire dies,

the roots remain,
entombed
in the ancient earth

Entangled

What is this madness that holds me
hovering
over your open flame?
My wings beat, my heart flutters.
Why do I burn so to die in your fire?
And fall,
as ash,
to the ground.

What is this shadow that stalks me
under moon and star and sun light?
Though my path lies definite over the winter land,
yet will I steal into that dark temple
to place my heart
on your unholy altar.

I am the little bird
beating its bruised and desperate body
against the glass window of your being
again and again.

wintering

One inhale of the past
One exhale of the future
And only this shimmering in between to
play on.

Like an icy lake,
our breath misting our faces,
and our feet
shod with skates.

bonfire of his vanity

I take back my love: you never had my all- you left at dawn.
I take back each gesture, each rhythm we found,
Each caress that said "You may know me..."

When you looked into my eyes
you only saw yourself;
that opening was the shallows of my being
and with this wave of words
I spit you from my shore.

I take back each time I hesitated to speak my truth
 not wanting to shatter your facade.
Shatter,
and be done.

I take back my mind,my deepest thoughts.
Burn your pages from this book.
Leach your ink off my silken skin.
Let the void swallow all the unspoken, unfilled, un-found
breathed from our bodies in moonlight and madness,
Your trifles lie entombed in glass, and beads bound.

Welcome Time, my Knight and Mage,
sweep through this door
and have your way with me.
Lick longingly
the warmth of summer from this earth,
and breathe
your chilled wisdom
through this tree.

Leaves time-lapse their strip tease off my limbs, and land.
Frozen memories
spiral through the streams,
and shape the vast spaces of those moments into nothing.

Come autumn, let us make love across this raging fire,
ferment the watery brine,
and make wine
drunk with promise, and pain's pleasure.

Wrap me up in your earthy swathes of freedom and new love,
let us hibernate this dreary dream
into the season of joy.

feb 2010

A childhood
reduced to things.
No wonder the future brings,
such fear.

growing up

We are not large enough at first.

As we emerge into teenage years
small minded
restricted of heart, and will.

Slowly lifes pains and pressures
work their way
into the soft marrow of our bodies

We expand; or we explode.

from the inside out
wisdom comes
and molds us;
or tries to.

eventually
we come face to face
with ourself
and our self in others

we come to it the hard way, at a late hour
or
if smart enough to be lucky
timeously
and with joy

The Way by Earl Masterton

"When the journey seems endless, look only to yourself for what you need. The end of the road holds no answer; it cannot exist to the traveler still on his way. The strength of his body, the weight of his pack, the place to next put his step. These are the true signposts and companions on the Way."

roundabout

we move in circles through the mist
and chance to come upon
a moment spun in silver thread
a hanging fragile frond

we breathe out fear
and snap its hold
we tear its promise down
and then we angrily declare
the world a hollow mound

we only see the small we know
and too much emptiness
the in between, the subtle light
the shadow is repressed

round and round we play at life
we bargain and we jest
we build our minds, we plough up faith
and burn the place of rest

then creeps the night;
and all is silent.

bliss

If all there is is Consciousness, if there is only Consciousness, then why or for what
are you still seeking? If there is only Consciousness then right now you must be That and
every thing else that appears in and as awareness must also be That, including any sense
of separate self. Any appearance of mundane, ordinary existence can be no less of
Consciousness than any appearance of unconditional love, wholeness, bliss, stillness,
silence or anything else. Does anything really need to be transcended,
found or let go of?--Nathan Gill

Being here really is just the invitation to rest as Being. There is nothing you have to do. It is not an invitation to become. You will not be scrutinized, your actions compared with those of others. That's just unicorn food. Let your river flow as it pleases--Mooji

what is this need in me to belong and to break free?

the pathetic tattered remains of my relationships hold me. Not in comfort, but in chains.

yet, they are a ll I have. And worse, they are what my son has... and I as his loving keeper must obey.

can i create for him, what i did not have? And what of these unmet needs to I help him fulfill? I know what my emptiness is made from...can i assume what shape his might take?

and all in all we are only ever ourselves, for everything passes...

indira's net

silver drops coat the net,
hang obedient to the call.

floating mirrors curving memes,
reflect the one that's all in all.

every piece precision placed,
floats free

and anchors

in between...

expanding and imploding the mind...

The need to shift our consicousness is universal. Despite draping it suggestively in new age words or organising it into new age meditation groups, mind alteration occurs in uncountable ways and for every second of time and within (almost) every human being on earth.

Recognising that we do it is the first unlocking.
Because this leads us to being able to choose how, when, where and why we do it.

I have always done it: one cannot be alive and not be changed by life, books, people, thoughts, chemicals (for example food....) and Tao.

But now I do it, create it, find the change with increasing pleasure.

When I slip into a hot bath and feel my conscious mind slide from my racing monkey mind into my still body, I sigh with gratitude.

When a piece of art touches me with its unifying beauty on every level of feeling and induces wholeness through my eyes and into my heart, I breathe out with relief.

When a blazing fire energises the skin on my hands and face, but at the same time seems to penetrate my soul with life, I pulse with joy.

Now I seek out people, places, potions and pleasures to do with me what they will: and each moment of my quest leads me home somehow to the heart of this great wilderness of life.

another week completed

What have I learned this week?

that I go with myself wherever I go! but so does comfort and acceptance if I wait for it.

that some things never change: apathy, incompetence, poor communication... and that regret is everywhere. things come into your life smashing and screaming and dying but this is the chaotic nature of Life.

Other things come into your life quietly and with warmth, like a cat sidling up and purring, rubbing rapturously against you.

pain and pleasure are the space and solid which make up this journey: becoming fluid and moving with the flow can help.

sometimes you drown in the pain and are resurrected into something new. something quieter post death that is similar to life but not.

tenderness and fleeting moments of joy should be worshiped as the sacred touches they are.

cleansing, healing and growing are the chores of breathing we must constantly attend to.

this week i learned again to stand next to death, to repel the negativism of his visit so that his smell does not linger long on me: and now i seek to find quiet space to explore his mark on me, and to cross over to the the open skies his brother angels inhabit.

we know each other, he and I. And I see that my rage against him is unfair. He is the dark side of the moon, the shadow of the great tree and the night to the day.

the beginning....again?

the best moments for me are when the questions are stilled and I find myself being borne along in the flow of life and, pleasure seeping slowly into me from the outside.

there are not many sources from within.

to be in harmony is the quest. that harmony is a place of peace and joy is my assumption.

round and round I go, struggle struggle struggle.

the weight of loss a constant companion... but also the driving force i long to escape.

so now some weapons come to hand to win this fight: i press forward to add them to my armory.

friends make the journey more bearable, sometimes more painful...


ever more transitions: beginnings, endings, hopefulness and doubt.

i am grateful to be alive but mistrust its transience. what does it all mean?

would the answers even help?

in the beginning...

space.
thought.
action.

the struggle and the acceptance...
coming home through leaving behind...

love and light.
demons and darkness.

beginning.
centering.
ending.

a spiral unravelling...