three Little Birds
perched
on the Naked Tree.
the Tree
anchored
to a sheet of
white ice.
the Sky
so clear
and bright,
it startles the Eyes.
the Eyes
attached
to the human
being
intently watching,
closely listening,
slowly re-membering.
a child at play
I am
a child
at play,
blissfully oblivious
to the perceived madness
“out there”.
In my imagination
I dwell
touching Earth 🌎
and Sky 🙏
No war in here,
nothing to fight for.
No hatred,
only true Love.
Generosity always,
in lieu of greed’s
incessant needs.
So bright,
exquisitely simple,
where I play.
Ease-full
especially when
the discomforts come.
CommUnity,
where I play.
It’s a small
intimate world 🌎
We know
see
hear
heal
tend to
each other.
Not Perfection –
far from it –
we are children
after all!
In our play Ground,
chaos joyfully dances 💃
with Innocence!
We are children
at play!
Come,
now,
join us!
All are welcome!
sweetness
not enough
then
suddenly
too much!
something missing
what?
a yearning
for sweetness,
release
from discipline,
a tipping point
of sorts,
can no longer run
or hide
sadness
disappointment
fear?
of what?
barely space
between internal stimulus
and its well-trodden response.
a mere taste
then
suddenly
the deluuge,
surrendering to the waterfall.
a deep
familiar
insatiable
hunger
for sweetness
presence
purpose
excitement
reasons
any
to be
here
now.
the fetus
innately worthy,
The Source,
from which we all
spring.
when do we forget
what we really are
and spiral
down
deep into The Abyss
of not enough
and the sense of
unworthiness?
grateful for those moments
in exquisite remembrance,
a glimpse,
swirls of pale pinks & greys,
the Curiousity of Creativity
condensing into form,
the fetus,
planted in a womb.
chilling
could not get warm,
could not sleep.
body stiff,
clinging to itself.
mind, racing;
heart, broken. 💔
parricide –
in what state of mind
is such a thing possible?
over and over and over
to rip into the flesh
that bore you,
to hear their cries,
screams,
pleas,
to feel their warm blood,
to witness
Life
leave the forms
from which you came.
chilling.
what we are capable of,
we, humans,
chilling.
the fragility of our psyche,
stunning.
we all walk on delicate ice
internally.
what is considered reality
can –
does –
suddenly
crack!
we fall in
deep,
become frozen.
and there
commit acts
so devastating
they ripple
far and wide. 😢
A Year-End Stream of Consciousness
Lack of attunement is what I am feeling acutely … a familiar feeling … is this the “norm” for a Life of The Unexpected? If it is, how do I navigate? With patience, with altruism, with totality, with anticipation, with simplicity, with authority, with humanity, with freshness, creativity, and the allowance for emergence, with integrity, with diplomacy – with all your innate gifts. In this Moment of agitation, unease, entropy – where do I lean? When you don’t know yet what to do, do nothing, be Still – isn’t that the message this whole year especially from Goddess Sige, who appeared multiple times to and for me? Not so easy, Silence/Stillness – why I consume and seek incessantly and rarely find…What have I found this year? What have I learned? How have I changed ingesting so much beauty-full richness? What has integrated? I don’t know yet … and will wait … be patience until called back into The Eternal Void … What is the invitation here and now? What am I to learn? What are the insights? Where am I deaf and blind? How to emerge from this victim consciousness? What is another story? An epiphany? The Quintessence? What is the practice of equality that bridges weakness to Tenderness? What is the resolve needed to transform exhaustion and the deep desire to just dis-appear to truly hear and live Divine Will? I don’t know yet …Stop seeking and find what? Peace? Community? Attunement? “Right” Livelihood? Home? Meaning? Abundance? Yes, to all please … Do I believe it to be true: all that is sought resides within? What’s inside of me? Who am I? Why am I here, now? I don’t know yet … When will I know for certain? Maybe upon the last breath.
dreams
what is
a dream
come true
for me?
what lies
over the Rainbow?
don’t know.
is that wrong?
feels so –
like some thing
missing,
a crucial piece
of a puzzle
glaring
it its absence.
hidden away,
perhaps,
some where deep
in side
waiting
patiently
for the right time.
“live the questions”
Rilke advised.
one day,
you’ll bump into
their answers.
Message Blocking is Active
blocked 🚫
mere months
after The Transition
of he who was The Force
keeping family afloat,
tethered,
ever so delicately.
without him,
shedding,
the masks came off,
niceties abandoned.
“Love” disintegrated
to the point of blocking 🚫
take nothing personally.
still, sad,
feels abrasive,
like a middle finger 🖕
borne of deep hurt
a sense of disrespect,
expectations unmet.
The Circle 🔵 dwindling
by death
and, now, blocks 🚫
everything
so tender,
tenuous,
ephemeral.
One Week
Suddenly,
left eye
redness,
pain,
intense light sensitivity.
oh no, uveitis, again?
so soon?
sadness born of
a knowingness.
“I did this.”
relentlessly
disrespectfully
pushed and pushed,
ignored Body’s
implore
to stop,
subtract.
Then the dream
set in another time –
childhood.
garbage overflowing,
unattended
and yet,
still present.
a father
feeding a mother,
their daughter
holding space
for others.
The next day,
head slammed
into metal.
where?
right above
the healing
left eye!
did the brain move?
was some semblance
of sense knocked into
the head, a subtle
and much-needed,
shifting of consciousness?
A few days later:
morning, bore witness
to a wake of vultures
tearing into flesh.
evening, a searing ache
in the middle of the head,
eyes burning,
bedridden.
relief, only from
sleep –
stop,
subtract.
stay true
“You go deep,”
they said,
surprised.
“Yes!”
I replied.
They weren’t ready
for My Depth.
I stay true.
There is a they
waiting
for me.
burgeoninc 