Past Those Palace Walls

even in those times when we have no choice
but to offer our humble lot to the Above,
when we are undone by life’s firm grasp in
that way she shakes us free from what we are not –
could it be that this too is perfect?

there and wins and then there are losses
our lives tend to flow between the two
but some become so distracted by winning
never seeing in fact, past those palace walls,
that true Freedom only comes from loss –

the loss of everything you took to be you.

this is not a somber loss, it’s only the mind that thinks it must be so –
firmly attached as it is to the belief to be separate from the hand that holds:
it is a loss and yet the deepest gain – a gain of nothing, really, but what a nothingness,
the nothingness of divine peace and an opening to Love within.

it comes when we put down the heavy load we’ve been carrying
when we finally surrender our love to nothing but the truth –
all these judgments and resentments and projections and frustrations
must be thrown into the sacrificial fire and burnt to ash
we’ve only held onto them because we are afraid to stop complaining!

life does not punish but rather she is forced to give us tough love
she’s not sentimental – why would she care about those precious feelings –
she wants us to release ourselves into and as the wide open and nothing less,
to stop pretending to do everything ourselves in the face of all she does for us…

so, let’s not worship at the foot of Frustration,
pretending like we are justified in a revolt against Life –
it is simply arrogance to believe that life has wronged us,
when she gives us every opportunity to drop the pretence and Be.

at some point we must recognize that our prayers are answered
at any moment we stop fighting, and let Life pierce our heart open to love;
it’s not about having a bowed head, it’s about saying ‘Yes!’
and getting out of Her way for once.

we have to recognize that suffering comes when we fight against the universe
it is the reminder that we have shelled ourselves away from Her.
peace and love is our nature, begging for us to let them in –
and if you fight the universe – who do you think will win?

image source: Catf

morning coffee

this my ritual of defrosting the body, absorbing bittersweet warmth into its cool carapace. slowly, slowly, the felt sense that I am apart from the rest resolves itself into the dew of unity’s palate. some days, bubbles of joy break through the froth almost immediately, and there is a waking dance under the lip of my mug. others, quieter days, I am reminded of how the body longs eternal for its release into the open vista, and there is a gentle surrender – a dipping ever downwards into the mystic night of the endless merge – slipping deeper into the thick silvery black of the molten brew.

The Town is Empty, but the Guesthouse is Full

room and board has already been paid
the town is empty but the guesthouse is full
we stay up all night sometimes
dancing to the beat
of the infinite drummer
we don’t worship
we don’t get stuck in dead words
there’s not a lot of room here to get maudlin
and any shame is left on the road by the overpass

to avoid overcrowding, we’ve set up a lottery
but there’s only one name on the ballot
no way to get around that

my friend,

you’re in.

Birdfeed

The world within often draws me towards itself – to leave the cares of moving life behind and to rejoin the eternal. There, I find a jewel that I cannot give away. I might well share it if I could. I would make of it an offering, but it’s stuck in my lungs and hands and all the rest. All I can do is Be it. In the moment, it’s just this sweet sense of Being, and these words, a gesture of gratitude with my attempt at a little stamp of light.

Maybe I’ll spend the morning with the geese that hang out near here, fearless creatures they are. They stroll along busy streets causing a mess and don’t care much about the drivers who gets chuffed along the way. Sometimes I think: I am but a bird singing my song for the simple joy of singing it, not (necessarily) to attract a mate, however, just because it’s my thing. That’s a nice image, but today, I think I’d like to be a goose walking in front of traffic, for the simple joy of charting my own course, not (necessarily) to stump anyone or cause a rift, but just because I’m alive. Let’s not get too romantic about it.

There is more here than just the endless inner world, or at least, I’ll give myself, as bird-feed, the illusion that there is, and touch hands to face under the breaking light of day.

Under the Cool Moon

there is a collapse
of walls held round the heart
and then the reflected light of the body
graces itself to love again:

a slow walk under the cool moon.

it’s not a big moment
it’s not a big event
it’s not an enlightenment
god, to only let go of that word,
we’ve all done our work!
let’s remember what we share

it’s a slow, gentle, patient falling away:
snow drifting onto parched earth
and melting in, deep, through
muscular tissues and fascia
into the cells and marrows
of memories laid down
time before time.

there’s also a sharpening to this,
a grinding away of ignorance’s block
it doesn’t all feel like snowflakes –
but this part comes with that satisfying feeling of
pulling apart pieces of old dead flesh
making way for the light to cascade through

light that is living
that’s beyond care
light just for light

it’s animal and beatific
it’s pure and it’s rude
it’s a divine melting
and a burning crash

This isn’t really for angels.
I mean, I don’t know any.
Do you?

life is red and black and blue and white
and everything else for that matter
it’s a symphony
it’s all transparent

it is