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.

feeding the un-certainty

where does un-certainty

reside in me?

no clarity

here

now.

what color is it,

this tension of un-certainty ?

not sure.

perhaps, butterscotch,

a merging of orange with yellow,

maybe a clue?

the Sacral, to feel,

or solar plexus’ mandate to do?

to only feel

and not to do?

surrender

submerged

feel the body

trans-form

dis-solve

flow

like the sacral waters

re-lease this Soul.

bible

a rather bold invitation made:

write your own bible.

at first, a bit of consternation,

followed by curiosity

and irreverent possibilities!

bible as just a word –

lower case b

supplanting the upper case and its connotations:

dogma

constriction

judgement

patriarchy.

no, in my bible

tales of only love

connection,

spaciousness,

and a direct –

always open –

line to Benevolence.

Beauty in The Bleakness

marveling at the resplendent Peacock 🦚

its extra-ordinary ability to in-gest

poison

and trans-form it into breathtaking, awe-inspiring Beauty.

reminds me of the Lotus πŸͺ·

thriving in bleak

muddy waters πŸ’§

ah, the lessons nature teaches

when we choose to slow down

listen intently,

look up & down & all around carefully,

really lean into

the Totality of Life,

this Moment,

each other.

opportunities abound everywhere

to trans-form the perceived mess and chaos

into gentle medicine for all;

into something vastly different than we’ve ever experienced –

more relevant, courageous, mature, and equitable.

there is unimaginable Beauty in this bleakness.

can you feel it?

an invitation

you are invited

to shed your masks

gently and slowly

begin to

un-hide

to touch

and be touched

to see anew

to feel and breathe

deeper

than you ever believed possible

to rest

to trust

surrender

fly

to Be in the here

all of you

now

and never

re-turn

to the you

in disguise.

hunger

a constant gnawing

deep within

to be fed

and tended to

through The Mouth

that did not know

its mother’s milk

suckled instead

by the middle finger

of its right hand

The Mouth that spoke

not a word

its first few years

now relentlessly demands

food

attention

silence

rarely satiated

riddled with shame

and melancholy

a downward spiral

often begins.

here, now

this time

a long breath

slowly let out

through The Mouth

gentler with the hunger

less intolerance

more patience.

Grace

we fall down

and we get up

we fall asleep

and we wake up

back and forth

up and down

the spectrum of consciousness

we go

round and round

the cycle of unwellness

until

sometimes quite suddenly

a shift

from deep Within

Grace

a gentle beckoning

to another

completely different

way

Still-ness

Still-ness

is quiet

and slow;

a Mountain top

in lieu of

the marketplace;

blessed Solitude

chosen over

the complexities

of company.

Still-ness

is the Moon’s femininity

relative to

the Sun‘s great fiery πŸ”₯

may we Be Stll

to know

to then act

from Heart πŸ™

been here before

this place,

these people,

those words,

that feeling,

been here before.

The Benevolent Universe

slowly closing a door,

ushering in

something unfamiliar

far beyond my

imagination –

another assignment

an opportunity

to learn

to grow

to contribute

and explore

pieces of me

never seen before.

anticipation clasps the hand

of trepidation,

resistance gradually gives way

to acceptance

of a Journey

marked by the continuous

making

and then

the breaking

of bonds.