Unfold the canvas
gather your paints
of emotion,
of life lived
journeys taken
paints of
splendid brilliance
colors warm
sensuous
liquid hues of wanting
uncap the paints
let your colors
fall upon me
light as air
intense as the sun in India
these colors stain
I do not care
stain me with them
indelible reminders
of this time
all the love within you
the crimson
the indigo
the meadow green
the sunlight
the depth
of ocean aqua
paint me with it all
create with me
your masterpiece
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
Digital Edification
such graceful motions
words come to life
through your wise hands
which learned to love me so well
a single feather-light touch
was known to me
was known to my ivory shell
and known to my heart, my soul
the sweetest morse code of desire
tapped on my shoulder
by those hands of affection
"look, mermaid, look"
once at a breakfast table we shared
at a savvy little bistro
in a wintery bed & breakfasty town
in coastal Maine
you took my hands in yours
turned them over
and peered into them
trying to see the magic, but it was invisible
I bring the magic back to you now
still invisible but Present
and a Present
for your digital edification.
words come to life
through your wise hands
which learned to love me so well
a single feather-light touch
was known to me
was known to my ivory shell
and known to my heart, my soul
the sweetest morse code of desire
tapped on my shoulder
by those hands of affection
"look, mermaid, look"
once at a breakfast table we shared
at a savvy little bistro
in a wintery bed & breakfasty town
in coastal Maine
you took my hands in yours
turned them over
and peered into them
trying to see the magic, but it was invisible
I bring the magic back to you now
still invisible but Present
and a Present
for your digital edification.
Saturday, December 02, 2006
Surprise Wounds
"2006 law school graduate Becky Noran was surrounded by the love and pride of her family as they gathered to celebrate her achievements at Commencement."
My law's school's "Dean's Report" came in the mail today. Leafing through, planning to rather quickly toss it into the recycling bin, my eyes stopped on a joy-filled photograph with the above-quoted caption. It was indeed a law school graduate on graduation day, grinning from ear to ear, her mother on her left, father on her right, perfectly capturing Becky's triumph over law school and her parents' pride.
In the infamous split-second, tears filled my eyes.
I found myself at my own law school graduation, no, actually, I found myself in the car on the way home, wishing someone, anyone, from my own family had been there to surround me with "love and pride."
By the time law school commencement rolled around, my father had been absent from my life for many years, and my mother, well . . .I love my mother dearly and now that I am one, I am intimately familiar with the Failings of Mothers. Let's just say she couldn't be there, or wouldn't be there. She wasn't there.
It was more of the same, really. The little girl who used to fill out her own permission slips for field trips, then present them for signature, offering a pen and pointing to the signature line, she's still here, taking care of herself. And failing sometimes.
Lest the reader leave with the impression of the author as some constantly sad person, let me say: some days, most days, life is all Bob Marley's One Love and perfect. I'm a generally happy, upbeat, adventurous, laughing person.
But every once in a while, a surprise wound surfaces. The forgotten, or misplaced, or buried.
Ouch.
Then the voices start: "Oh get a grip, you should be lucky you went to law school, that you live in relative comfort in this country, and that you are reasonably intelligent . . .if mommy or daddy not coming to graduation are your worst problems, then you are blessed indeed."
I felt that way on graduation day, and I still feel that way nearly 8 years later.
But wounds are wounds, and sometimes they jump out at us from the unlikliest places, like the Dean's Report. I thought it had healed.
I still wish my parents had been at graduation. But that's ok. Up against the wounds I could have, I'll take this one, thanks. I'll laugh at how we all have our wounds, plan another adventure, and put Marley's One Love on repeat.
My law's school's "Dean's Report" came in the mail today. Leafing through, planning to rather quickly toss it into the recycling bin, my eyes stopped on a joy-filled photograph with the above-quoted caption. It was indeed a law school graduate on graduation day, grinning from ear to ear, her mother on her left, father on her right, perfectly capturing Becky's triumph over law school and her parents' pride.
In the infamous split-second, tears filled my eyes.
I found myself at my own law school graduation, no, actually, I found myself in the car on the way home, wishing someone, anyone, from my own family had been there to surround me with "love and pride."
By the time law school commencement rolled around, my father had been absent from my life for many years, and my mother, well . . .I love my mother dearly and now that I am one, I am intimately familiar with the Failings of Mothers. Let's just say she couldn't be there, or wouldn't be there. She wasn't there.
It was more of the same, really. The little girl who used to fill out her own permission slips for field trips, then present them for signature, offering a pen and pointing to the signature line, she's still here, taking care of herself. And failing sometimes.
Lest the reader leave with the impression of the author as some constantly sad person, let me say: some days, most days, life is all Bob Marley's One Love and perfect. I'm a generally happy, upbeat, adventurous, laughing person.
But every once in a while, a surprise wound surfaces. The forgotten, or misplaced, or buried.
Ouch.
Then the voices start: "Oh get a grip, you should be lucky you went to law school, that you live in relative comfort in this country, and that you are reasonably intelligent . . .if mommy or daddy not coming to graduation are your worst problems, then you are blessed indeed."
I felt that way on graduation day, and I still feel that way nearly 8 years later.
But wounds are wounds, and sometimes they jump out at us from the unlikliest places, like the Dean's Report. I thought it had healed.
I still wish my parents had been at graduation. But that's ok. Up against the wounds I could have, I'll take this one, thanks. I'll laugh at how we all have our wounds, plan another adventure, and put Marley's One Love on repeat.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
It's Ok to Want You (a song)
I finally know
as some things go
that it's ok to want you
I finally see
the Light in me
and it's about time
Before the fall
I knew it all
but was in the dark
And hearts still bleed
but what I need
I've had all along
Chorus:
But it's ok to want you
it's ok to feel that rush
it's allright to want to stay the night
and love you this much
yeah, it's ok to want you
Can't make you stay
don't want to anyway
and I'm doing fine
But if you go
then you should know
we could share this light
and I know you've got your own
but there's a place we could call home
a sanctuary, our silver cocoon
and baby, we could share the moon
Chorus
But it's ok to want you
it's ok to feel this rush
it's allright to want to stay the night
and love you this much
yeah, it's ok to want you
as some things go
that it's ok to want you
I finally see
the Light in me
and it's about time
Before the fall
I knew it all
but was in the dark
And hearts still bleed
but what I need
I've had all along
Chorus:
But it's ok to want you
it's ok to feel that rush
it's allright to want to stay the night
and love you this much
yeah, it's ok to want you
Can't make you stay
don't want to anyway
and I'm doing fine
But if you go
then you should know
we could share this light
and I know you've got your own
but there's a place we could call home
a sanctuary, our silver cocoon
and baby, we could share the moon
Chorus
But it's ok to want you
it's ok to feel this rush
it's allright to want to stay the night
and love you this much
yeah, it's ok to want you
Monday, November 27, 2006
Of Stackers & Scrabble
Picture it. A nerdy, effervescent, 9 year old Australian boy, bubbling, "well, you see, me mum, she started me Stacking as a wee one, sittin' in me high chair, I was. But she always used yella cups, and so now I can only stack with yella cups, ya see, it's a mental thing."
Folks, some things in this life, you gotta see to believe. But occasionally, you can imagine it from a friend's description, even halfway across the globe . . .and you not only get to believe it, but you become part of it by adding your imagination.
So I was Instant Messaging with a friend who's working in New Zealand right now, and she's got the telly on in her hotel room while we're IMing. She begins to type something like, "you won't believe what's on the tv right now. I think this passes for a sport here. It's called Stacking."
Now, I'm sitting in my chair in the good ole US of A, imagining that Stacking is some sort of game like oh, say, cricket . . .so I say "oh? Stacking? What are they stacking?" And this appears before me on my screen, "Plastic cups. Into pyramids."
"Seriously?" I type, while simultaneously laughing so hard I almost fall off my chair.
"yes, and they are seriously interviewing these kids like sportscasters would interview World Series winners," she answers.
So she tells me about the kid with the mental yellow cup handicap, and then I start quoting the announcers, even though I can't see this Stacking Match, and have never seen one. Yes, oh yes, this is one of those times when imagination takes flight. Where one can practice Australian, putting words in the mouths of Stackers . . .
Kid: well, yanno, it's all in the concentration. It's such a mental game.
Announcer: What is your training regime like?
Kid: Well, I stack for 'round an hour in the early morning, before I walk to school. Then mum helps me practice again after school for an hour. Weekends, I've got a 2 hour practice with the rest of the team, over to the park, when the weather's nice."
Announcer: This obviously takes a good deal of dedication, then?
Kid: Only if ya wanna be the best Stacker, and blimey, I do!
Then there's Announcer Banter as the announcers comment on the match, in hushed, golf-game announcer voices . . .
Announcer 1: Oh no, that's a bad spot of luck, little Petunia lost her grip on that last cup there.
Announcer 2: Oh, you're right, Donovan. She's got to be upset about that one. That puts Team Blue into second place in the rankings now. Oh, now it's young Christopher on the next round . . .and he's doing very well, lots of skill and concentration from this up and coming Stacker . . .and Yes! A new individual record!
So.
After Stacking was over, there was competitive Scrabble. Uh-huh.
Competitive
Scrabble.
Ah well. Perhaps the world would be a better place if there were more Stacking and Competitive Scrabble and less . . .oh, say, football? Besides, Stacking and Scrabble are humorous, and we do need more laughter in this world. yes.
I can dream, can't I?
Folks, some things in this life, you gotta see to believe. But occasionally, you can imagine it from a friend's description, even halfway across the globe . . .and you not only get to believe it, but you become part of it by adding your imagination.
So I was Instant Messaging with a friend who's working in New Zealand right now, and she's got the telly on in her hotel room while we're IMing. She begins to type something like, "you won't believe what's on the tv right now. I think this passes for a sport here. It's called Stacking."
Now, I'm sitting in my chair in the good ole US of A, imagining that Stacking is some sort of game like oh, say, cricket . . .so I say "oh? Stacking? What are they stacking?" And this appears before me on my screen, "Plastic cups. Into pyramids."
"Seriously?" I type, while simultaneously laughing so hard I almost fall off my chair.
"yes, and they are seriously interviewing these kids like sportscasters would interview World Series winners," she answers.
So she tells me about the kid with the mental yellow cup handicap, and then I start quoting the announcers, even though I can't see this Stacking Match, and have never seen one. Yes, oh yes, this is one of those times when imagination takes flight. Where one can practice Australian, putting words in the mouths of Stackers . . .
Kid: well, yanno, it's all in the concentration. It's such a mental game.
Announcer: What is your training regime like?
Kid: Well, I stack for 'round an hour in the early morning, before I walk to school. Then mum helps me practice again after school for an hour. Weekends, I've got a 2 hour practice with the rest of the team, over to the park, when the weather's nice."
Announcer: This obviously takes a good deal of dedication, then?
Kid: Only if ya wanna be the best Stacker, and blimey, I do!
Then there's Announcer Banter as the announcers comment on the match, in hushed, golf-game announcer voices . . .
Announcer 1: Oh no, that's a bad spot of luck, little Petunia lost her grip on that last cup there.
Announcer 2: Oh, you're right, Donovan. She's got to be upset about that one. That puts Team Blue into second place in the rankings now. Oh, now it's young Christopher on the next round . . .and he's doing very well, lots of skill and concentration from this up and coming Stacker . . .and Yes! A new individual record!
So.
After Stacking was over, there was competitive Scrabble. Uh-huh.
Competitive
Scrabble.
Ah well. Perhaps the world would be a better place if there were more Stacking and Competitive Scrabble and less . . .oh, say, football? Besides, Stacking and Scrabble are humorous, and we do need more laughter in this world. yes.
I can dream, can't I?
Sunday, November 26, 2006
The One (a song)
Let the wind blow,
let the fire blaze,
let love come down
and clear the haze.
Let us be still,
let our hearts clear,
so in the silence
we can hear,
the One.
let the fire blaze,
let love come down
and clear the haze.
Let us be still,
let our hearts clear,
so in the silence
we can hear,
the One.
Bath
I love
laying in our miniature ocean,
your back
on my chest,
dipping the cloth
in liquid heat,
blanketing your heart
again and again,
so it doesn't catch cold.
laying in our miniature ocean,
your back
on my chest,
dipping the cloth
in liquid heat,
blanketing your heart
again and again,
so it doesn't catch cold.
I Would (a song)
I'd piece together all your broken dreams
Show you every day what real love really means
Hold you up to every new sunrise
lay with you at night and strip away disguise
I would
I'd give you space to roam and also hold you close
listen to you well about what matters most
Surrender to the gentle power of the man you are
lay with you under a million pure white stars
I would
Sit with you for hours, looking at the light
You'd see every day how love can turn out right
Hold your hand and hold your heart and yes I really could
if only you could open to receive it
I would.
Show you every day what real love really means
Hold you up to every new sunrise
lay with you at night and strip away disguise
I would
I'd give you space to roam and also hold you close
listen to you well about what matters most
Surrender to the gentle power of the man you are
lay with you under a million pure white stars
I would
Sit with you for hours, looking at the light
You'd see every day how love can turn out right
Hold your hand and hold your heart and yes I really could
if only you could open to receive it
I would.
The Only Word That Matters is Yes (a song)
Say yes to love
when your heart is breaking,
Say yes to fear
when your hands are shaking,
say yes and jump
when you're hesitating-
oh yes, you can
Chorus:
Open your heart
take it all in,
your life will start
when you dare to begin,
Don't settle for anything less.
The only word that matters,
the only word that matters
is
yes.
Say yes to doubt
when you can't decide,
Say yes to hope
when your small faith hides,
Say yes and open up,
oh yes, you can
Chorus:
Open your heart
take it all in,
your life will start
when you dare to begin.
Don't settle for anything less.
The only word that matters,
the only word that matters,
the only word that matters,
is
yes
when your heart is breaking,
Say yes to fear
when your hands are shaking,
say yes and jump
when you're hesitating-
oh yes, you can
Chorus:
Open your heart
take it all in,
your life will start
when you dare to begin,
Don't settle for anything less.
The only word that matters,
the only word that matters
is
yes.
Say yes to doubt
when you can't decide,
Say yes to hope
when your small faith hides,
Say yes and open up,
oh yes, you can
Chorus:
Open your heart
take it all in,
your life will start
when you dare to begin.
Don't settle for anything less.
The only word that matters,
the only word that matters,
the only word that matters,
is
yes
My Heart's Lullaby (a song)
Go to sleep
Go to sleep
dry your eyes and please don't weep
It's ok
It's ok
in your dreams the hurt won't stay
If your heart breaks,
at least you know it's beating,
in case you don't know
it bears repeating:
I love you
yes, I do
and there's nothing you can do,
to lose my love--
or lose your way, it's ok,
just look inside and you'll feel me say
I love you
Go to sleep
Go to sleep
sometimes we have to retreat
Go inside
run and hide
it's ok to give up
and try again another day.
If your heart aches,
well at least you know it's beating
in case you forgot
it always bears repeating
I love you
I love you
and there's nothing you could ever do
to lose my love
or lose your way
when you wake, you'll see a brighter day
I love you.
Go to sleep
dry your eyes and please don't weep
It's ok
It's ok
in your dreams the hurt won't stay
If your heart breaks,
at least you know it's beating,
in case you don't know
it bears repeating:
I love you
yes, I do
and there's nothing you can do,
to lose my love--
or lose your way, it's ok,
just look inside and you'll feel me say
I love you
Go to sleep
Go to sleep
sometimes we have to retreat
Go inside
run and hide
it's ok to give up
and try again another day.
If your heart aches,
well at least you know it's beating
in case you forgot
it always bears repeating
I love you
I love you
and there's nothing you could ever do
to lose my love
or lose your way
when you wake, you'll see a brighter day
I love you.
Empress Moon
New night,
lush ivory sphere.
Another chance
to be who I am,
as she reveals herself,
Empress Moon.
lush ivory sphere.
Another chance
to be who I am,
as she reveals herself,
Empress Moon.
Red Wing (a song)
Red wing, black endless winter night
a place of fantasy, where reality took flight
Red wing, hearts meet
and the song was so sweet
Chorus:
Beauty came and found us
on a sparkling winter's night
a momentary flash of love
stars of blinding light
maybe I should have left that place
on wings of red and black
flying far and fast and never ever looking back
Golden curtains sheltered us from questions and from fears
the only tears were gratitude-that you were there, so near
and when we had to part your heart stayed close to me still
echos of the warming as I drove in winter's chill
Chorus
Now dear time has come and gone and somehow we are here
we listen to the other's tales of voyage far and near
as my life spins down I hope I'll always call you friend
Companions as days come 'round and hearts so sweetly mend
Chorus
a place of fantasy, where reality took flight
Red wing, hearts meet
and the song was so sweet
Chorus:
Beauty came and found us
on a sparkling winter's night
a momentary flash of love
stars of blinding light
maybe I should have left that place
on wings of red and black
flying far and fast and never ever looking back
Golden curtains sheltered us from questions and from fears
the only tears were gratitude-that you were there, so near
and when we had to part your heart stayed close to me still
echos of the warming as I drove in winter's chill
Chorus
Now dear time has come and gone and somehow we are here
we listen to the other's tales of voyage far and near
as my life spins down I hope I'll always call you friend
Companions as days come 'round and hearts so sweetly mend
Chorus
Friday, November 24, 2006
Devoted Awareness
The Brilliant Light reveals itself to us when we surrender with devoted awareness. . .
. . .to meditation, to asana practice, to lovemaking, to a sweet-hot bath at the close of a bitter-cold day . . .to any moment in which we choose to still and surrender.
. . .to meditation, to asana practice, to lovemaking, to a sweet-hot bath at the close of a bitter-cold day . . .to any moment in which we choose to still and surrender.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Ghosts Go Away (a song)
Walking down the street today
I saw a ghost pass my way
I've seen her here a dozen times or more
She isn't very nice to me
throwing things from every tall tree
she whispers as I walk by
"girl, you'll never reach heights this high"
Chorus:
But I know one day she'll back down
when my love shines all over this town
and she can haunt somebody else
because---I'm done being scared.
My ghosts won't bother me
because they can't see when my light shines this brightly
they're blinded and they can't find me.
Ghosts go away.
Ghosts go away.
I was talking to a friend today
she asked me if I was ok
I guess the water in my eyes was a clue.
I said I'd just seen a ghost
the one that matters to me most
who tells me no one will ever stay
and I'll never ever see a better day
Chorus:
Maybe today's the day, she'll back down
'cause my love's shining all over this town
she can learn to haunt someone else
because---I'm done being scared.
My ghosts won't bother me
because they can't see when my light shines this brightly
they're blinded and they can't find me.
Ghosts go away.
Ghosts go away.
Ghosts go away.
I saw a ghost pass my way
I've seen her here a dozen times or more
She isn't very nice to me
throwing things from every tall tree
she whispers as I walk by
"girl, you'll never reach heights this high"
Chorus:
But I know one day she'll back down
when my love shines all over this town
and she can haunt somebody else
because---I'm done being scared.
My ghosts won't bother me
because they can't see when my light shines this brightly
they're blinded and they can't find me.
Ghosts go away.
Ghosts go away.
I was talking to a friend today
she asked me if I was ok
I guess the water in my eyes was a clue.
I said I'd just seen a ghost
the one that matters to me most
who tells me no one will ever stay
and I'll never ever see a better day
Chorus:
Maybe today's the day, she'll back down
'cause my love's shining all over this town
she can learn to haunt someone else
because---I'm done being scared.
My ghosts won't bother me
because they can't see when my light shines this brightly
they're blinded and they can't find me.
Ghosts go away.
Ghosts go away.
Ghosts go away.
Sunday, November 19, 2006
A Circle Begins Where It Ends
So I seem to have this, um, talent?, for hearing a phrase which sinks into my heart, then pilfering it and using it as the cornerstone for a song or poem or writing . . .
And so it happens again:
A Circle Begins Where It Ends
A circle begins where it ends
A lifetime of love so begins
Journey's short, Journey's long
You really can't get this wrong
A circle begins where it ends.
I'm not sure what this is, perhaps a round (like Row Row Row Your Boat, but NOT to that tune!)?
Anyway, I like it.
And so it happens again:
A Circle Begins Where It Ends
A circle begins where it ends
A lifetime of love so begins
Journey's short, Journey's long
You really can't get this wrong
A circle begins where it ends.
I'm not sure what this is, perhaps a round (like Row Row Row Your Boat, but NOT to that tune!)?
Anyway, I like it.
Saturday, November 18, 2006
The Ripening Season
Gently plucked,
yielding to lips.
Pinnacle reached,
softness realized.
Surrendering in this
ripening season.
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.
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.
Still.
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.
you are not lost.
Still.
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.
Hmmm.
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.
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.
Hmmm.
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."
"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."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
