Tag Archives: Love

holy

23 Jan

There is nothing but

holy.

I wore it today as a mantra

in traffic jams

and temperature swings

and in the checkout line

where I was handy

and open

next to  magazine and candy gossip.

Enough flowed through

to bless the swollen wrist

of the Target cashier

from RA she says and sighs,

so painful,

sweet one, yes.

When we are there with her,

our mind’s hand covers her pain

with tactile love

while we drop to the spot

left and right lungs

touch the fire pit of our

singular abyss.

Holy rains on

holy messes

and blesses us all,

despite.

 

 

 

– – – love and emergency vehicles – – –

25 Dec

To love, one must first forget all about love. Make it your aim and look for direction. As we are, we cannot possibly love.  Gurdjieff (commas added for clarity by me:)

The roads I tread have been tread before.  Fellow travelers leave their words for me.

 

It is nice to me to find clarity for what I meant when I talked about love a month or so ago.   I could not articulate clearly why I felt incapable of love, but life keeps unfolding, reflecting back information to me for the questions I ask.

Learning to love is a bit like unlearning, for me, right now.

When I was identified with love by my mind’s definitions, I became incapable of being the love that I am.

Can I relate here the reflections that arise?  Perhaps not, but experience feels like being explored with words this quiet morning:

I saw lights from an ambulance, a fire truck, and a police car all throbbing and reflecting on windows and water at the marina as I left yesterday.  The mind would define this light show as an EMERGENCY.  With my mellow mind in its quietude after walking the long distance on the docks in the foggy heat, my eyes see.  Red.  Blue.  White.  Flickering in a pattern.   Without definition, without association.  Something is happening; lights are pulsing,  but eyes are seeing before any idea of suffering.  These eyes see the emergency lights the same as these eyes see fog.

Of course, I know what these vehicles and lights can mean, but that idea is the same as all ideas, a rabbit hole.  That which needs my attention will be made clear without my ideas about any thing.

Seeing can be separate from ideas.

I feel Love arises naturally in such a state, beyond my associations, beyond my ideas about any thing, beyond my DOing.  In this field, love is unrestricted to bubble up without obligation or definition or shoulds.   This bubble that arrives is larger than my small being, and it travels through the vehicle of this body separate from my thoughts.  I think it bursts above my head and floods me a bit like this:  

At 5:20 minute (but all is speaking today):

 

a soft answer to the questioning of love

21 Nov

“Whatever we pay attention to, we care about.  It brings out our caring.  You discover the belonging that was there but hidden.  It is there with every living thing of this universe if we slowed down and we reached out.  Not only does it wake up our hearts, but it ripples out.”

I’m incapable of love

17 Nov

I have never loved another.  I am incapable of this task alone.

I have not even loved a cat, a dog, a tree, myself, no one.

There may be channel for love through release, but I don’t have to look around that corner.  That corner will come to me, not my business.

It is arrogant to imagine I know what love is.

The ones I am supposed to love by all earthy definition walk by me and at times I feel nothing but annoyance.  I might get a painful inner heart squeeze even at the sight of them, but is that love?  At times I only see reflection.  At times I don’t even see.  I am unable to define and perform in accordance with what I think that love is.  I love no one, no thing, nothing!

I release this idea of love.  I release the word.  I release.

And when I do, I am just here.

I can get still enough to stop doing what I think love should look like.

I’m left with only the senses, not the thought.

I am free to not love ever again as me.

Yet I am still here;

nothing has changed visibly,

though perhaps I sit up more as the weight of performance is taken off my back.

Mirrors mirrors on all sides

you magnify what is not

and let me simply be here.

the love boat exciting and new come aboard we’re expecting you

31 Aug

perhaps I will never know

what makes me swoon this way –

hear

the droning lawnmower,

while I am

braising my head

in direct sunlight,

baking and falling

so far out of my body

that if I were to open my eyes,

I wonder where I will be.

I seem to be dancing with someone unseen

but felt.

A love is here that leaves me never lonely

but refreshed in the silence of wordless agreement.

How can this be this be this be;

no one do you see?

I’ve fallen.

Without a net,

on my way down

without my checkbook,

skipping out on the rent.

I cannot shape this afternoon,

let alone next year.

Who who who is knocking

on my heart?

When I peer,

right here,

only the stray cat tigger

and the gnats,

but I feel it –

over and over –

knock knock knock,

I am

alone

unattached

on fire

without a flame.

Do not douse me now.

 

 

a rat when he’s wet

20 Apr

 

yo ese

 

I am in love with being chosen by this cat.

Perhaps it could be any cat.

His lowness in the world fills me not with disgust

but pity and  soft opening for his escape.

What makes the breath of one man reek,

and another fill your heart with care?

Come purr on my chest when I haven’t the time;

will I grow tired of thee?  Will you come to be  a stink, a chore?

Do I know how to love; are you here to show me?

The story goes a bit like this:  convulsing fear, survival strength, ache, rage, numbness,

rote doing, and then one morning we start imagining ~ maybe.

Our mind/s broadcasting into the void, virtual machines of creation.

A snake, a turtle, a rat may have answered, but here is this homeboy, ESE.

You, little man, radiate the joy of 2nd chances.

You mirror tougher days which make me the humble seer.

Basking in the soft luxury of my bed,

I worship the roof , the lights, the water,  the pantry…

There may be hope for me yet.

“I love cats because I enjoy my home; and little by little, they become its visible soul.”  ~ Jean Cocteau

All of the animals except for man know that the principle business of life is to enjoy it.”  Samuel Butler

a worm on cement in the sun

12 Aug

In november  when I started this blog experiment,  I was able to point through words to the pain that was playing out in my daughter’s heart.  I didn’t have solutions;  I didn’t know what was going to happen.  While we were trying to find experts and work with their solutions to such things, I also leaned heavily on whomever and whatever I could find that could point me to the deeper thread of this difficulty.

A word like difficulty doesn’t match what I am trying to say.   This raging time was messy, embarrassing, painful, relentless, hopeless in appearance.  Scenes of terror and rage played out in cars, parking lots, closets, mirrors, public places:  scenes of thrashing, smashing, ugly pain at top of the lung out of control hystaria.

My daughter had stepped beyond my reach.  I had never been one for Freudian theories, but truly, as the miraculous visit to a sane Psychiatrist revealed, a classic case of Transference.  Freud did know a few things.   🙂

Eden was unable to rage at her father because he could not listen nor understand her.  He also was not a safe person with whom to work things out.  He has a delusion of who he is, and in this insanity, he is unable to parent, especially in her crisis.  So she took the full weight of her rage and placed it solely on herself and me – the two  most critical  people who could help save her.  She took her rage to the brink of destruction over and over.  It felt like standing on the edge of the grand canyon, while she tied a rope around my waist and proceeded to jump and take me with her into the abyss.

We would resolve and come together but the relief would be short-lived when a word, a look, a call from her father would set it off all over again.

I  am putting words to this chapter, not to relive the past, but to recognize where we are today in contrast to the place we were  in November.  Now I can look it full in the face because we have moved into a new space.  I also visit from my now place on the path with assurance to the frightened me and to any  frightened souls of anywhere where the road gets tough.

Eden has rounded more corners than I can count without the aid of the pills they wanted to prescribe.  She has beat the diagnosis they wanted to pin on her, marched into her rage and out again.  She now relies on her own strength and the strength I am so willing to lend as needed.  This was not the only path through – it is the one that Eden chose.

I am grateful that I walk this earth to be here to see that hope can blossom out of hopelessness  in our little  story.

On our walk yesterday, she stopped to watch a worm making its way across the cement sidewalk in the noonday sun.  I asked if she was going to pick it up to help it not fry as so many worm corpses had done all around where we stooped.

She said no, i want to watch it, to see if it makes it.

And so we watched it make its way.  I was doubtful it would survive. I was wondering if we were just going to watch it die. But wiggle it did and eventually it slithered into the clean line of  grass on the other side, free from the relentless sun, free from the army of hungry ants,  finally burrowing into the cool dirt.

I expressed  dismay while she shared her knowing that it would make it all along.

Here now –  I express my dismay and knowing that exist side by side in me.  What we walk through!  How we help each other!

thank you. thank you. thank you.

Frying on the sidewalk or sinking into the earth, wiggling our worm bodies in joy – we make our way.

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