when you know it’s a ride, you can play any part

7 Dec

Sometimes I think the comedians and the poets are the most aware ones here. As we engage in our lives, it is helpful to remember that we can be any Larry or Bruce we want while we discuss the budget with a furrowed brow (while laughing every chance we get).

this or that

24 Nov

we dream that we are choosers–

that our minds can weigh

our lists of pros and cons

and offer us the way for

sensible action.

Lists and justifications and choice

at best

are curtain decoration

for the windows on the plane ride

through turbulence.

We can torment each other with plans for the future,

but we would be better off telling the truth-

that we are surfing

avalanches with briefcases

and nice shoes.

 

The trees have chosen,

after weighing their options,

to drop off the green,

and then to disrobe,

desperate for a little attention.

Those of us alive are choosing breath

after the pros came out ahead.

What’s next tees up

while we color,

like earnest children

with fancy, art store pencils,

in our sleep.

 

 

 

 

 

 

now or nothing

4 Nov

In essence and bones,

it becomes clear

that if peace can not be found

right here, right now,

a change of circumstance,

place,

or time

will not bring peace either.

This spot

this breath

these walls

this floor

this breeze

this body

this now.

 

 

 

nothing much

28 Oct

It may seem as if not much is happening – beat –

But water gives me endless permission slips for observation.

Field notes on just water

could keep me busy and engaged from now until the end-

I’m enthralled with:

-the way it holds it shape inside clear glass

and sways back and forth, a uniform surface at the top,

when moved

-its invisibility in the air,

-its collection on surfaces,

marking lines of temperature demarcation

-its presence in my body,

making me an ocean in motion-

just to put a few notations into words.

How I choose to spend and expand my attention

is the only game, once seen.

The abstractions of the world: war, famine, words free then taken

from our use, words to sway, words to limit,

guilt, distraction, MY job, the persona(s) — all is dissolving

in the rain of my attention, placed elsewhere,

on something so intrinsic to life as to be unseen,

now performing a private dance for me

from every where.

Feeling So Groovy it Sucks :)

26 Oct

This writing feels didactic and I question why am I putting into words a philosophy of one? I don’t know. Maybe just a sticker on a map. Maybe a look in the mirror. For some reason, this morning, I’m covering myself in a humble patchwork quilt of pieces of practice\al philosophy gathered from one set of feet, one pair of eyes, marching through the time of a life in a body.

It’s okay – I’ll let it flow, for no good reason and then move on to the next thing…

Starting here: No matter how much circumstances seem contrary to okay, life is ultimately okay.

Okayness is true as seen from the small still point inside of me that is never not there.

This still point is within,  a radiant, patient sun inside the solar system of me around which everything in the show revolves. Remembering this point, learning to dwell from this point, gives me the stability of moving within the world with more spaciousness even in the moments that seem chaotic or in crisis. This space accepts me “back” to this point, no matter how long I’ve forgotten that I am dwelling here; thank goodness, it’s always accessible and open for business. We are always here, actually, but there is some aspect of taking on this life that allows us to forget. Mysterious this! 

Life is a ride, “a” not “THE” ride. Here, a clue in the articles – each one of us on a ride, the whole (of me and of us) ride is beyond my comprehension.

It used to seem like a long ride, but it is ever more clear that this ride is not very long at all.

The body has a mind of its own. It is best to recognize this and communicate with it (through it) by learning to dwell in the body’s awareness as much as possible. Wordless wisdom comes through the body suit – profound messages, information, and access to God (our spacious still point again) is through the body, not from somewhere else. Though it may feel like indigestion, a muscle cramp, dread in a seizing stomach, the body has a language all its own. I’ve been learning to inhabit this body garment and finally listen after so many years to the wordless words of a billion cells in symphony to make this ride of me.

I’ve been told I am loved, and I have enormous confirmations of this; however, some dynamic of this ride allows me to forget this, to feel so alone, and so vulnerable to harm, to hurt, to hopelessness.

The shifting of perspective – that’s it – changes what I think is happening. BUT hearing this idea might not help. This life is a 3d riddle, an optical illusion, a Escher painting lived.

What is real is difficult to determine, perhaps impossible to determine, with reason alone. Real is known within – when within is not obstructed by false thoughts which make real difficult to perceive. 

Breath centers.

Center knows truth because it is truth itself – our flame that can’t go out.

Until there is not breath, there is still  a chance one can clear obstruction to truth.

Other people and life circumstance (including leaky roofs, ahmmm) are a reflection of where I am and how I am perceiving. From the center point, I exist from a space from where, in interactions, I have a room that gives perspective in real time. I can see from this spot the deeper thread and zoomed out view at once more clearly  which gives me pause in micro-time before I move with words or action which provides more skill and ease and compassion. When I am not moving from this space, I can observe my tendency to rush or soothe or dismiss or avoid, as well, so all motion in the world is teaching at all times.

This is just some truth from this one spot along the way. Marking the map with “I am Here, Now” this morning, as it rains and shines and the temperature falls and rises – ever instructing our skin.  Blessings for us all, sisters and brothers.  Which version fits today?

mercy may rain down

20 Oct

I pulled the entire damn thing  off

and started again –

and for a few days I breathed easy

resting on the pillow of my roofer’s assurances –

his reshingling was foolproof he said–

and I wrapped myself in his confidence and

my homework.

this roof is only one thing in a long series of large playings out

for the necessary things

such as air and heat

and water and waste–

a difficult year

in a decade of years

that has me asking the sky

what is the message?

what is the metaphor?

what do I not see that I need to see, please?

Is there a message for me here?

or should I open an umbrella to the raininess of life?

mercy mercy me oh why.

we surrender will

and continue until the last

drop

enters and destroys

what was temporary anyway.

we rise up again and again

against the elements

relearning how to shelter

against the relentless turning of ages

oblivious I am how short my moments are to the trees

to the hills

to the ocean who used to own this land

it is no wonder

me no bigger than a drop

in all of this

that I can not understand

why the roof

will not stop the rain

or any blessed thing

before I’m gone.

lean in

17 Sep

to pain
accept the ache
the discomfort
heat that suffocates like a wool air blanket
the past few days and now
the longing moon must be seen
and turbulence felt
belly bellows must shout over softer things
impatience will come and walk the block
with fear of missing out
exhaustion is allowed a nap
awkwardness and surrender silence the mouth…
Welcome to my home
where to sit you have to move the laundry over,
and make your own cup of tea,
I’m busy with the lean in – just now
moving into bruising joy
not done with me yet.

I watch blossom
a flower as big as a steroid house

still growing

beyond my ability to see.

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