Saturday, November 18, 2006

The Ripening Season

Gently plucked,
yielding to lips.

Pinnacle reached,
softness realized.

Surrendering in this
ripening season.

Taj Mahal

It did not begin as my dream,
it was yours.

The land of the dragonflies,
desire, not for me,
but for a life
of open-hearted village.

I nearly passed by,
piles of brick visible,
a trowel soon found its way
into my hands.

And so I began to build,
for you.

Love so deep and wide,
absolute and infinite,
because of your weaknesses
and not in spite of them.

Your dream became mine.

I will not stop until
your heart's wish is filled.

I will not stop until
you have
your Taj Mahal.

Ancient Happiness

The well is not far,
you are not lost.


Feel your thirst,
inhabit it,
and do not look away.

Time has passed,
distance inspires
parched hearts
to seek liquid diamonds.

As fire tames fire,
water tames water,
with one sip
of ancient happiness.

Wednesday, November 15, 2006

God in Every One

I again find something inspiring in the words of my India-journeying friend.

He said in a recent writing, that the resort town on the Arabian Sea in which he's currently staying seems rather bereft of places to meet people in their hearts. That is isn't a spiritual center, there isn't an ashram, et cetera.


A little story: I've been traveling back and forth between a smallish midwestern city and Boston, for almost a year now, at least once a month, sometimes more often. I used to endure my time in the aiports, either O'Hare or St. Louis, for the same reason my friend seemed a little put off by his Indian beach playground town. The airports seemed to collect the most unsmiling, unlaughing, grumpy, superficial group of people . . .what a lack of Spirit there . . .or so I thought.

One day, sitting at O'Hare, sipping my iced latte, somewhat impatiently waiting a few hours for my plane to Boston, I suddenly realized each person here, in this airport, was a child of God. This wasn't new information to me, intellectually, but in my heart, I'm a little sad to say, it was.

I sat for a few minutes, really focusing on emptying the clogged channel through which Love pours, and then I began walking though the airport, feeling God within me and reaching out with Source energy to people as I passed, especially to the grouchiest-looking ones . . . I smiled, and shined love to them, and they smiled a little Love back, or at least softened.

It was an amazing experience.

If nothing else, that day someone smiled at each of these Beings with love, straight from the tap through me, to them, and I realized I'd been judging these people somehow, and limiting my experience of them and of myself.

Even those of us who supposedly live in awareness much of the time, often fall down on the job. No matter, just time to get up and begin again, which is the name of the game, really.

Monday, November 13, 2006

And I've Been With You

My friend, who is in India, sent an email today, which said that he has had us all (this group of friends) with him on his journey there. This was my reply to him, which went unsent, but not unfelt:

"And I have been with you, in many different ways, and in many places. On Arunanchala, and in Matrimandir, especially. In the Tibetan Settlements, in the sari shop in Mysore, of course, and at the beach just now--your beach in India and mine here . ..our oceans merging, water poured into water.

I just came back from an hour or so at delicious Plum Island--at my Ocean, my birthplace and my love. . .it is a moonless and densely foggy late-autumn night, the vastness of the ocean obscured but its power abundantly clear, a cacophany of waves crashing again and again on the sand . . .blissfully alone in the chilly dampness and drizzle, I sat down on a huge black rock, perplexingly placed a great distance from any neighboring boulders, the perfect meditation seat.

The ocean's usually hushed shhh shhh shhh was this night a deafening score to my Ceremony. I dipped my fingers in the Holy Water and pressed fingers to lips, to my bindi-place, to my breast. I inhaled her sweet/briney scent. She roared again as the wind painted my face with the seaspray and rain.

I sat in silence . . .I chanted several rounds . . .Devi, Devi, Maha Devi, Ananda Devi, Namo, Namah . . .I laughed at the power of the waves and the dance of the foam on the sand . . .my Being, my body awash in Spirit--so clearly felt in the body. And in the heart. I threw my head back and raised my hands to the sky, smiling and laughing at the love swelling in my heart like the swell of the waves before me. I whispered, knowing I could still be heard above the din "thank you."

I sat in silence a while longer, eyes closed, and listened. And I heard quite clearly, no, I felt quite clearly "you're welcome," or maybe it was more like "YES!" or maybe it was the Sound of Light playing in my heart. But I heard it, I heard the Sun.

My Sacrement complete, the passageway felt cleaned, clear, blessed and ready to receive again.

My hair is all mermaid corkscrew curls and damp now --- I just caught myself in the mirror here at home as I sat down to write, eyes clear with ocean water reflecting in them . . .and a certain smile on my face only Sun, Ocean and a few other presences in my life have brought.

Welcome home, Mermaid."