spirituality

Extraction

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This year begins with an extraction

of more than just a tooth;

feels so much deeper…like a tone being set…

as if The Extraction

of lies disguised as truth;

a purification, of sorts,

an intense burning

of malignant thoughts;

the elimination of scripts so long-held

that with the body

they’ve seemed to meld;

the expulsion of perspectives in mind

that no longer serve,

behind which I cannot continue

to hide.

The Extraction

has exposed

a painful nerve,

left me

vulnerable,

shook up,

a tad perturbed-

in a most humble space,

the better to receive.

With new eyes, I can now see,

and proclaim

gently

with no shame:

Enough! No more!

Ego, please take your shit to the door!

A revised reality,

a different, lighter story-

one steeped in radical Trust,

of complete surrender

to a benevolent Universe

of stunning abundance

and wondrous intelligence.

“This is your way,”

It whispers

softly

persistently

deep

inside

me.

The Way

may not be

what is preferred,

but the Universe

never errs.

One is being called-

always-

to a Faith surpassing human understanding;

to re-member what One really is:

eternal Spirit in ephemeral flesh,

on this journey, only to connect.

 

“…the Lord gives you the Bread of adversity and the Water of affliction…” Isaiah 30:20

 

 

Sacred

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“In every moment,

something sacred

is at stake.”

There is a choice to be made;

a perspective to be chosen;

words and emotions, spoken;

a road taken.

A path then set,

fate waits to be met.

A price to pay-

maybe tomorrow, maybe today-

for the hand played.

One reaps what one sows,

as everyone knows.

Cause and effect,

a sacred law,

much too often ignored.

All thought in mind

creates form in kind.

The Universe

sees all,

bears all,

reflects all-

no matter how small.

In the space between

action and reaction

lies one’s rise or great fall.

Either one’s asleep

or awake.

Regardless,

“in every moment,

something sacred

is at stake.”

 

Quote: Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel

Wake Me when I am Free

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Wake me up when I am free,

I was not crafted

for captivity

born of conformity.

Like a Great Bird in a cage,

I cannot the world engage

in a matter that is authentically

and fully

me.

Instead, this being is muted,

stifled

dead,

of no real use,

head in a noose.

An existence without passion,

no rhyme nor reason

meandering season upon season.

New show, same cast;

all one can do is laugh.

A comedy of errors,

it all seems,

like a relentless bad dream.

And yet…

moments of bliss,

scattered here and there.

Glimpses of deep peace-

no worries, no cares-

as if no skin, one is only air.

Such times,

they are

so utterly delicious,

mightily precious.

Hold on to those

like the world’s most fragrant rose.

A reminder of what is possible,

preferable,

desirable:

Freedom

to be

Me-

who I really am

in service

to a much Higher

Purpose.

To no longer play small,

answering only to a Divine

inner

Call.

Down with the ubiquitous cubicles,

those notorious

killers,

containers

of the Soul!

Please wake me when I am free.

For, I cannot bear the indignity

of any

captivity.

I

Inspiration: Wake me When I am Free–Poem: Tupac Shakur, Music: Babatunde Olatunji

Advent

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A time spent

in deep contemplation,

in preparation

for what God

to the world

sent:

A Love Divine

came from up high

to make fully flesh

The Word;

to demonstrate

prayers are indeed heard

and prophesies fulfilled

as per His time

and perfect will.

Emmanuel-

Hallelujah,

our God dwells

among us all!

Born humbly

in the House of Bread,

He came to save,

to minister,

to transform

the thoughts

the darkness

residing, hiding

in our head,

imploring we chose-

instead-

only Love

only Light

-always

until the end

of our human days.

 

Written all over your Face

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It’s written all over your Face

why you occupy

this space,

in this time.

in this body,

in This Moment

in your-story.

There are no accidents-

such is widely evident.

We are,

each one of us,

called forth,

summoned.

Here,

to re-member

what we really are,

to dispel others’ truths

that became our scars.

Here,

to re-call

our shared humanity,

our One Soul.

 

Artist: Pablo Picasso

Circles of Life

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No beginning,

no real end,

around we go

again and again.

No thing is created,

nor ever truly destroyed.

All comes back, newly restored.

We say goodbye,

only to soon again say hi.

The illusion of lost,

it feels so real;

yet, is such a lie.

Bonds are never broken,

no way,

no how.

“‘Tis the truth,” they say,

those who have woken,

who heed the subtle cues

and disorienting déjà vu;

those who can see through and beneath,

well beyond this realm,

who venture down deep,

then back up to tell

the Story of Life,

its circular path

of ash from ash,

of I in you and you in me

and Life’s beautiful infinity.

“The story of life is quicker than the wink of an eye, the story of love is hello and goodbye…until we meet again.” ― Jimi Hendrix

 

 

 

The Children

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20 November 2016,

it is Universal Children’s Day.

And so, I pause

take time

to breathe

to pray.

So much inside,

I want to bring out,

to display-

especially,

given the climate

of our present day,

where our children

are forced a diet

of intolerance and hate.

How do we teach our children well

in this painful realm?

How do we speak of

the rights of the child

when rights in general

appear in such peril?

We can,

indeed we simply must

do

be

better

for the Little Ones

who look up to us

with such innocence,

such tender and abiding

trust.

They are our teachers,

the children we bear,

holding us accountable

for all we say we value,

the principals we purportedly

hold so very near and dear.

Little mirrors,

our children,

the opportunity

to either see

their reality

and respond accordingly-

or ignore,

leave our mess

in their hands

for remedies to explore.

Either the chain continues,

or we

destroy.

 

 

 

 

 

Friday

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Whoa!

Another week

has passed

so quick,

so fast

at a pace,

I can’t seem to grasp!

One minute, it is Monday-

the thought: how will I last?

The next minute, Friday,

relief, some time to relax!

Bittersweet is

the end of the week.

Some joy,

some pain.

Many questions

remain:

Did I get

what I was to learn?

Did I summon

enough nerve

to truly serve?

Where did I grow?

Where was maturation slowed?

What parts of me

do I transform and release?

Next breath never guaranteed,

nor is any day of next week.

It’s Friday,

the day to savor

the short respite,

to pivot

and change perspective.

Go in,

give in,

make way and waves;

like a voodoo chile

filled with Light and smiles

play and create-

these are the mandates

of

Fridays.

God (Chapter One)

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In stillness

is

God.

Nowhere and everywhere

is

God.

Belonging to no one,

yet to everyone

is

God.

Praised and despised

is

God.

Loved and feared

is

God.

Within and without

lives

God.

Savior, Tormentor

Father, Mother

Teacher, Friend

is all

God.

The Alpha,

The Omega,

The Eternal I am,

is

God.

From ash to ash.

from dust to dust,

is

us.

 

 

Prodigal: A Portrait in Words

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The middle child,

the second

in a Girl Tribe

made of three;

born into a

matriarchal family.

She has a

distinct,

special pedigree.

A quintessential

Scorpio, She is

often perceived

aloof,

not so easy to know.

One minute,

She herself

to others

shows;

and the next-

poof–

off She goes,

traveling into

that sublime mind,

not intending

to be cruel and unkind-

unless betrayed

or played,

then out comes

the devastating hand grenades!

Beware of the Scorpio sting,

her bite

her weapon

to protect

her gentle heart,

her sensitive skin.

A relatively quiet Soul,

this one as Prodigal

privately known-

a familial moniker

for this magical

misunderstood

wanderer.

Many secrets

held tight

under her beautiful exterior.

To unlock,

to enter her interior,

sustained trust,

an absolute must!

Once inside,

much and rich

treasures to find-

fierce loyalty,

staunch integrity,

stunning efficiency,

endless creativity.

So blessed am I

to take this life’s journey

with She,

to walk together

hand in hand,

feet to feet!

 

Sculpture by American-born British sculptor Sir Jacob Epstein.

Poem dedicated to my beloved sister, Prodigal – much love and many thanks!