3 Poems

I have many obligations. Music, and people to connect with. Sometimes I feel overwhelmed, because it's easy to get swept way into form. And I want to be able to keep my spaciousness as I dance in form. To stay centered, and calm in the knowing, in the seeing, and being.

With peace, without judging.

To remember the space of grace, and give that knowing away. To allow myself how I show up with unconditional love, as best as I can. 

And so...I thought I'd stop in here, and say hi, before I dance in form, and hope that Grace helps me to paint beautiful things, pointing to the place beyond shapes. 

A deeper truth.

A unity.

That when it is felt, love is seen.

And we know together.

  I wrote three poems a couple months ago. And thought I'd share them. 

 

God's Body

Hello.

I see you.

You in all your forms and faces.

In all the places.

I did my best to see you. Though some of your disguises were very clever.

 I massaged your Arthritic hands.

Your ankle full of gout.

A knee recovering from surgery.

I saw you in a song of a seven year old, as we sang together.

I saw you in a downs syndrome, woman.

I saw you in a book.

I saw as you took something away, and made room for something better.

I saw you working to make all things work for my good.

I saw you in my neighbor who had just come home from being very ill.

I saw your lonely face in a my neighbor.

I saw you afraid.

I saw a you that I was angry at, and had to forgive.

I saw a you, that was in great pain, that I had to be present with.

I saw you happy.

I saw a you that was full of youth, and joy.

I saw another you that was so busy, and weighed down with care.

I saw you in the newness of a child's wonder, learning how to make music.

I saw you in my mother.

I saw a you that was too big.

A you that was too small.

And a you that didn't talk well of yourself.

I saw you in someone who spoke the truth by the way they lived, and gave love away without condition. 

I saw a you that couldn't see yourself. 

I saw someone who saw themselves in everyone. 

I saw you in all these.

And more...

And hope some of the love I gave away, will reach you.

I saw you.

And when I didn't, or couldn't see myself in them.

Grace did.

And so...

 The self I saw in them.

Sometimes, I couldn't say everything I wished, or wanted.

And sometimes, I acted smaller.

Or talked too much.

Or too little.

Or was slow in replying.

Or too quick.

And sometimes I remembered. And sometimes I said the right thing.

And sometimes grace was right there.

In the room.

 And everyone felt it. 

And sometimes I forgot, and thought I needed to protect myself.

And sometimes I remembered, and opened my heart so wide.

And sometimes the truth was so present, you could feel it.

And sometimes, it was so absent, you could also feel it.

And sometimes, I was so present, I could feel the energy of love.

I could feel the heart of those around me.

Or their mind, hot in their head.

And sometimes, I knew exactly what to do, or say.

And sometimes, I didn't know.

And sometimes I was overcome with my own grief.

In the forgetting, and remembering.

And knowing, and not.

But, if I was to tell myself anything.

Seeing how odd and strange, and beautiful, dynamic, and good, and wonderful being vulnerable is. 

I would tell myself.

It's okay.

I would tell myself. I've got you.

I am here for you. 

Always.

I would tell myself, you are right where you need to be.

You're perfect.

You're beautiful.

You are love.

And loved.

You are enough. You always have been enough.

There isn't anything you can earn, or anything that can be taken away from who you really are.

There isn't anything you have to prove.

Or do.

Or say.

Or be.

You're allowed.

You are loved.

You are seen.

And known.

And cherished.

You are good.

You are kind.

You are love.

You are.

You are not any of those things you can gather, or collect.

You are not any of those things that get taken, or stolen.

You are not your car, or you house, grand or small.

You are not the dirt, or the clean.

You are not your nice, or your not nice.

You are not the mean words you say, or the untrue words.

You are beyond words. Kind or not.

The you, that can be felt.

Is beyond such things.

Heartstuff.

This is something.

I do believe we are.

Heartstuff.

It's not something you can weigh.

Or measure.

You can see reflections of it.

When God gives you his eyesight.

It is in the un cagable forms of heartstuff.

Unbreakable, that flows through everything.

Is in everything we breathe in our out, or eat, or give away.

This.

It.

We crave.

Desire.

Search for.

We forget.

And then remember.

This knowing.

This heartstuff we all are.

It hasn't left.

Ever.

And never can.

We just thought we could.

Be separate.

Which is an impossibility.

And utter lie.

And so, the only thing separating any of us from our truth.

Is a very, thin, veil.

And the closer we get to heartstuff.

We see through that veil, more and more, until

You can only, ever, love.

Myself.

The myself in you.

And in them.

And there isn't anything to get.

Ever.

Only, a remembrance, as we love.

That you.

That love.

Is right here.

And there is no other.

------------------------

          

 

                             Neighbors

                                    I wonder....

                                    As I often do.

                                    If perhaps loving one's neighbors.

                                    Is the key.

                                    In which we see.

                                    For in loving our neighbors.

                                    One at a time.

                                    I think we unravel.

                                    Something divine.

                                    For when you see yourself.

                                    In the you, that that is them.

                                    Perhaps you heal apart of yourself.

                                    You didn't think would ever be well, again.

                                    Maybe, just maybe.

                                    If we are really one body.

                                    We won't be entirely whole.

                                    Until the whole body, is loved.

                                    And known.

                                    Until the lungs can expel their grief.

                                    Until the tears fall, and find relief.

                                    Until the ears listen to its cries. Heard itself, in every disguise.

                                    Until the eyes are full of light, can it see itself, in pain, or delight.

                                    Until the nose, can breathe in and out, and smell all the flavors, within and with out.

                                    Until the hands know they only help themselves.

                                    Lighten the load, put books on a shelf.

                                    Until the feet of you are washed by me.     

                                    Until I can see myself in your soul, walk as if you were me.

                                    Until my Colin is clean, how can I expel.

Only truth from my heart's living well.

             To know that I only speak to me.

                                    Will my words and thoughts, reflect accurately.

                                    Until I know that my own tongue, is only tasting flavors of myself.

                                    Until I know I only eat.

                                    Myself.

                                    Will I eat only light.

                                    Digest only light.

                                    Reflect only light.

                                    Give only light.

                                    Until the heart beats in tune, sees itself. Will it love itself.

                                    Will it know is own love.

                                    But until then...

                                    We all love.

                                    As best we can.

                                    With a little bit of light.

                                    And a little bit of dark.

                                    And we swirl between the two knowings.

Seen and unseen.

                                    Dancing between the sun.

                                    And the light of the moon.

-----------------------------------------------------

Your Presence

 

The presence of you.

Here.

Yet invisible.

Surrounds me.

Within my chest.

Within, and without.

You.

And yet...at times.

I miss you.

Even though you are here.

Invisible.

And the ache that there are moments when I forget.

In those moments I miss you most.

For your presence and nearness is most dear to me than anything.

And in the forgetting. 

I feel a sorrow.

Like someone I once knew, so close to me. I grope for you. 

 I weep. And pause.

And then you remind me.

Somehow.

And I remember.

And then, you appear.

Your presence.

In all I see.

And I feel you. Knowing you have never left.

I laugh, and I look around for you.

And feel the present nearness of you, invisible.

Manifested in the canvas of now.

In the faces of life as it greets me.

Your Oneness

Your being engulfs my heart.

And I look.

You.

Oh, God.

The ache of love, present, and invisible.

The you that exists in every moment in me.

A aloneness, that is not lonely.

Only aches, at times, wishing to breathe and move, and be always near that flame.

Wishing I could paint you next to me, in every moment.

And see, perhaps, a glimmer of your smile.

The depth of your eyes.

Perhaps give form to this you, I feel.

Much bigger than any feeling I have felt.

Realer than any person who has found me.

To feel complete.

Yet incomplete.

Completely.

Oh, I am blessed, that your essence came into my life.

A perfume so sweet, It has never left since It found me.

This realness.

This love.

Is rich.

A fire ever burning.

And the ache of you is amplified only because in knowing your presence.

Forgetting, at times.  

Feels more than I can bear.

More than my heart can take.

And so, as write, I know you are here.

Next to me.

Always.

Lingering on my eyelashes.

Shining in the dark.

A sound of love.

I feel you.

Loving invisible love.

Loving invisible wings.

Loving the invisible realm.

Unseen to eyes.

Loving the silence, and the soft invisible lullabies.

Loving that which most ignore.

Like the air.

The space.

The place you walk through when you go through a door.

Loving the canvas before you paint.

Loving the earth.

And things that look quaint.

Loving the mess, and loving the clean.

Loving the dirt, and loving things to be serene.

Loving the real.

The honest.

And true.

The gritty details.

That make life a story.

Makes it have color and hue.

And though you are beside me.

Invisible.

I let myself feel the invisible ache.

That comes from loving invisible things.

And hope to breathe to life, your reflection in every soul I meet.

Until I know you, better.

Help me remember. 

Remind me of your Grace.

Help me to trust it.

And allow you always.

To be with me.

And the truth of Love is fully seen. 

Reflected in all I am, in all I know, in all I do, in all I be.

In all I see. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Heart wisdom

            My sister Bess and I went to our music directors house yesterday, figuring out stuff for our program. Our director had a black and white picture on the wall of a native American Indian with a feather headdress.

She said that they make mistakes in the painting, on purpose. She wanted to know if we could see the flaw.

Bess found it on the top. A line______--- like this was missing. Or something like that.

I went and looked up the reasons why.

And it seems to be a normal thing in a lot of cultures. To add a mistake.

To make sure that part of their consciousness isn’t trapped in the painting, or the weaving or whatever it is.

Because Only God is perfect.

And it comforted me a bit.

Because it seems, I feel very much like a little line, that never got quite finished.

So when I do things, it always feels like a smooth line, and then all of a sudden….

No atter how hard I try.

And maybe,

As I ponder this.

Maybe God is painting me on purpose. The way I am.

With a little glitch to let me know….that this also is not who I am. And to let others know that too.

A word, a painting, a recipe.

A little flaw on purpose.

I like to think the on purpose part.

So it feels official. Like this was in the weaving the whole time.

A point of grace so we can let out the darkness, and let in the light. So we can let ourselves out from our own weavings. A door.

To say, how perfectly imperfect we all are.

And so, however we dance…..

We are not trapped here in this painting.

The imperfections are an exit.

A little door out.

Back to the place that created us.

And maybe, just maybe, I was supposed to see this painting.

All the things I feel so flawed at.

Are merely exit points.

A break in the line to say, “you don’t have to be trapped in this form. For it too, isn’t the real truth.”

For the real truth goes beyond the forms.

Lines, and dots.

And to be an opening for God to shine through.

If God is the painter.

I humbly bow, and though I may not see the whole painting.

I do know.

That at some point, when we accept the flawed bits.

We free ourselves and others from the forms we create.

And when we love the broken lines.

We are able to see the bigger picture.

If the creator of this ultimate painting, put a flaw in the painting, on purpose.

A mistake.

With intent.

Then the only mistake we make is judging these things.

These points, cracks in the painting where light can shine through.

Where the darkness of ignorance can leave the picture, once you accept the flaw.

And so, I say thank you for the picture.

And know, that as I give myself the gift of my own seeing.

Even though, it can be very difficult. To accept the broken lines of your own life, and how you show up. When your voice cracks, or your heart cries. Or when the rules of existing are so great, that no one else is able to see that we all have these flaws painted into us.

On purpose.

Some grand designer.

Made it so.

And incomplete mirror, until we have the whole picture, inside, and outside, all reflecting---the kingdom, the light, the living spirit, the truth of our being echoed out into the darkness, until it starts to reflect light back. 

And we see, so clearly, our light stays lit, always. Sustained from a living well deep inside.

And free each other by our broken lines, by connecting them to the wholeness, by our seeing, so that no one would be stuck in their own little isolated painting, if they wish for a better view.

So that someday, when we had a good enough view, and accepted these flaws.

We could return to a greater seeing. Beyond the swollen eyelids.

To see with our inner vision, a grander view.

So more light could come through.

To a greater knowing.

The view, a weaving, a piece of the puzzle.

Completed.

 And all broken lines are made whole.

Close up. One small dot or squiggle.

But when your view takes on greater scope.

The weaving.

The seeing.

All merges into one painting, a painting that connects all paintings.

Better view

 

                Dear blog,

                It has been intense. 

My sister is on the mend.  She went home today. 

I hope her eyes heal all the way.

 It was real hard, because her eyes and forehead were so swollen, she couldn’t see at all. And I had to keep spraying her face, and eyes with some oils, and different things. And spoon feeding her, because she couldn’t on her own.  The swelling has gone down, and she is able to see now, and is feeling much better.

People coming and going. So much asking to be seen clearly.  So much I could describe.

I realize to be someone's eyes is only giving away a grace that has been given to me time, and time again. And maybe, without knowing it, I was the one who got given many of God's puppies, from so many places, and people, and loving hearts.

And this love, and seeing are meant to return to the sources they came from, doubled.

 Epiphanies....

Yet. I'm still processing...trying stay in my own home frequency. As there has been so much swirling.

Trying to be a good nurse. 

Trying to stay in center.

I feel energy so much.

It sometimes gets overwhelming.

With everything going on in my family, and extra stuff that happens, and world family that needs us, Bess and I are thankful for extra grace that comes, so we can be good mirrors to ourselves, each other, our family, and the world, because it gets real difficult. Trying to honor oneself, and other, and the whole at the same time. Everyone wants us to be anchors and fixers, and healers, and so knowing how to honor yourself in the most loving way, is sometimes hard to see, especially amid storms. 

But good mirrors with enough light, remind you who you are. 

And my heart is the best mirror I have, and I use it to see by. It has helped me see light, and love, and it has reminded me always, that love is the most beautiful thing. It shines, and shines. 

And I love my heart. And love the reflection of it. And I love God.

And I love the knowing.

 Spirit is always there, calling me back to that peaceful space, to my inner mirror. 

 My calm.

So I can give that seeing away as best I can.

 Since my last moondog post, I think I've seen some things in this eclipse energy. Stuff I'm trying to understand from my view.

Gathering the pieces of the mirrors that have been given me, to see clearer. And it's strange because what I see is that if mirrors don't have enough light shined on them.

They can't see the truth.

And perhaps this is all game of mirrors. Maybe....

Like giving my dog away.

God gives his love away.

And if no one shines the light back. God's best puppies don't know that they are good dogs.

The mirror can't see the truth of itself, nor can it shine light on anyone else. And until a mirror is inner lit, it needs an outside light, to give it a spark.

I do believe my sister Bess. Is inner lit. Because she's always had a really good compass. An inner sense. A place of higher ground, a truth that is fixed.

An energy I appreciate, because it helps pull me back when I've given too many of my own puppies away.

And sometimes we change roles, and I stay in the center, where the oil is.

And she is the spark.

And sometimes I am the spark. And she is the oil.

And sometimes you are the spark, the oil, and the lamp.

And we all are recipients of Grace.

And then place-holders for it.

And when we all see clearly, we are all that at once, in the oneness. 

We can all be that for each other. 

And it's so beautiful, because the energy of love never dies, and is always shining through the cracks, giving us glints of the deep inner truth, when we need it most.

And then there are the mirrors that see invisible things, that stay fixed in a knowing that is spiritual in nature. A fixed place, of love that is unconditional.

A grid that holds kingdom of heaven reflected inside it.

Of a palace of our hearts.

Beautiful. True.

And this unchanging, unfailing truth is my fixed space of knowing.

My heart space.

This place has helped me know a knowing beyond seeing, or intellect.

The God space.

Where love dwells.

And I'm starting to see.

That as we give our puppies away, the light we have, I feel there is a circle of seeing. Sometimes we all switch roles, playing the part of giving away grace, the one who needs grace, the seeing, a close up zoomed seeing, that is centered more in the world, the part of staying a little more zoomed out into the inner grid--- centered in the inner grid of truth. Fixed, so a light always stays lit.

And sometimes we both play the same part, and grace covers us.

And sometimes we are the one receiving the light, the third sight that sees for us, a seeing that sees it all. That is our eyes, when they are too swollen to see.

I do believe this third seeing is always there.

And it is beautiful. All of it. 

This anchor point.

A love, and light beyond words, or actions, or thoughts, or deeds, eyes or mirrors. 

A heart echo.

When you grope in the dark to see the truth of who you are.

And it is to this echo I write.

So the echo I feel, comes back to you in some form.

So you can stay lit. 

So you can see that the light will always shine.

Love. Keeps the light always lit.

The oil.

The spark.

Always there.

The unseen mirrors.

Spiritual mirrors. That see the unseen.

Earthly mirrors that show you, earthly things.

And if God blesses you with a greater seeing, spirit puts both those seen, and unseen pieces of mirrors together. And you can see the stars, and moon reflected on its surface, just as you can see the sun, and clouds, and daylight.

Two truths simultaneously. 

And we all see from the fixed knowing that we have. Until light enters, and we see light shining even in the darkest mirrors.

Because the spirit of God shines through us, showing us the truth, even in the darkest surfaces. Because of our inner light.

Light reflects itself on all the mirrors it sees. The stars, the moon, the sun, the sky, the clouds, all of it.

The kingdom of heaven, reflected, one mirror at a time.

Reflected for you to see deep within.

Treasures to be found even on the most cloudy surfaces. 

For mirrors show you things....