I Don't Wish To Serve

I Don't Wish To Serve

I don’t wish to serve you

I want my hands

And heart unbound

So that I may wrap

My arms around you

At any moment

Exactly when you need it

I don’t wish to serve

The ideas you have

About me

For they are inevitably

Untrue

I want to remain free

So that I may grow

Toward the sun

Unhindered

I don’t wish to serve you

I want to employ my strength

Not in the construction of

Your reflections

But

In weaving the invisible

Web of love

So that all creatures may

Seek comfort

And shelter

From the storm

Of selfishness

That blows like a hurricane

Through the space between threads

 

What Is Love?

What Is Love?

What is love but a strong breeze

That enters this spirit infused clay vessel

And defines its volume

Describes its arc and curve

By touching inner space

With invisible hands

Defining that which has no definition

What is love but a river

Flowing ceaselessly into the sea

And the sea ceaselessly accepting

That which is given

And neither the river nor the sea

Holding back for a moment

Not the sea for fear of space

Nor the river for fear of running dry

Love is a gradual unfolding

Like the clouds becoming flush with sunrise

Till all the darkness is driven away

And there is only light

Winding Through Ferns

Winding Through Ferns

The trail you walk curves through a landscape of ferns. You can see the thin line of bare earth cut gently through the plants and disappear over a rise. They seem ancient. So ancient that you think that’s probably how they looked millions of years ago after having settled from the ambulations of a dinosaur. The air is rich and moist and when you inhale through your nose it feels like you are participating in the forest’s essence, taking it deep within you and savoring it. The enormous trees rise from their bed of ferns like stately pillars charged with upholding the sky. The canopy is thick with billions of slender green needles, each a variation on an ancient form, shaped to gather fog so that the tree might drink. Your steps are silent on the spongy ground and it’s almost like you’re not even there, passing through the play of light and shadow, swaying around you on the dictates of cloud and wind. You feel part of the ecology of this place, aware of everything without having to focus on any of the details. This land has found a home in you and you smile as your legs take you, you know not where and this does not matter because each step you take is one into your heart and from this you will never stray.  

 

So Hard To Be Natural

So Hard To Be Natural

Why is it so hard to be natural?

It should be the easiest thing in the world

At some point in all of our lives

We were naturals

Never questioning

Just doing

But then gradually this was eroded

As we were encoded with dictums

Told how to be

In ways which were against our being

Then to escape the conflict

The tension created

By dogma and blind belief

Escape in all the fleeting pleasures

Even in the ruddy orange of sunsets

If you count on beauty

It will fail you

Take it in the moment

As it comes

And be glad when it’s gone

Because it can’t last forever

But you can

If you don’t escape

You know the chains around you?

The ones that cut your flesh if you move

Or struggle against them?

Get to know them

Stay put

And understand there is no escape

Live in the moment

And you will see

There is every such thing as eternity

And no such thing as the chains

You forged link by link

In the crucible of your mind

Awaken With The Dawn

Awaken With The Dawn

The morning is newly awakened in your eyes. Dawn reaches above the tree line in gathering shades of pink and pale blue. You can hear bird calls of several different species intertwine in the crisp air around you and you feel free and healthy. You bring the fragrant air deep into your lungs and exhale a fine mist just as the sun rises above the horizon. You can feel the sky expand as it blows through your hair, warmed by the gentle ball of fire. You feel a harmony within yourself. The boulders seem perfectly positioned to catch the quickening light, the moss clinging to the large arcs of stone has a slow and irrefutable purpose, trees balance light and shade in constant interchange with the wind, creating a dynamic pattern which the wild grass in the meadow you stand in resonates with until the air seems to hum around you. You’ve never seen a morning like this, an awakening that mirrors a slow gathering of love in the basket of your heart.

The Secret Of Immortality

The Secret Of Immortality

It is possible that the universe is an evolved consciousness that discovered the secret of immortality. The secret being to never remain constant, existing in a state of perpetual evolution. The seeds of immortality are held in the concept of having no fixed idea of the self and absolutely no sense of self-preservation, a constant giving, a constant mutation – and because of this the universe never dies, because – in a sense – it never was…and we are this too and doesn’t this description sound a lot like pure love?

Just For A Moment

Just For A Moment

Just for a moment dear one

Just a moment

Give yourself

A break

Stop trying to prove

How clever you are

It’s a given

Because cleverness

Is acrobatics

Executed in virtual reality

And you are spinning

Like a top

Just calm down long enough

To let go

And fall

Into the waiting net

Of the Earth

To Know Without Knowing

To Know Without Knowing

You see a flower

At the moment of unfolding

The last purple petal spreads

Like silk over your eyes

And you stare in wonder

How could such beauty exist?

The yellow belly button

At the center of the bloom

Yells yellow at your eyes

Till you think of the sun above

Your heart leaps for love

Reminding you of something you’d nearly forgotten

You walk over and snap the green stem

The umbilical cord to the Earth severed

The petal now swings like a pendulum in your hands

As you begin to think of other things

And the colors will never match that moment

The petals won’t even try

They know without knowing

They can’t trace a direct line

To the magma center of their home

From the vase on your coffee table

A Prayer For A Sunday

A Prayer For A Sunday

There is a cure for our sickness

This cure need not be administered with prayer

It does not require faith in a higher being

It does not require a strong foundation of belief

It can be administered by the scientific method

A method some would say caused this sickness to begin with

Fighting poison with poison

The cure is simply said

But momentous to execute

A revolution would flow in its wake

Do what is good for the Earth

What is good for all other forms of life

Including the rocks and the water that rushes over them

For they have souls too

Do this, say no to destruction and waste

And yes to balance

Yes to helping all life flourish

We should grow up

And be the stewards we were made to be

Then everything will be a prayer

Faith will be unquestioned

Because it will be a seed

Sprouted from each individual’s heart

As they tend the Earth with their love

And sow it with belief

 

To Beat The Birds

To Beat The Birds

I wore a face that was not my face

The muscles tensed and gripped

In ways they were not designed for

Long hours of frowning in front of a computer

Too many times smiling when nothing was funny

Or the worst, curling the lips at the corners

To sign approval of an act I found despicable

These muscles were meant to express

Love

Hunger

Rage

Kindness

Hilarity

Grief
Wonder

The molds my face understands

And for far too long this face has slipped

Between the deep grooves of Being

And skated along the shallows of conformity

No more

For I no longer recognize the rudimentary lines

And weak boundaries I have been asked to force my face into

It takes too much energy to be nothing, to be subservient, to follow the program

For I am too strong to hold myself down

I give my face permission to act as it will, say what it wants

Take the forms it finds comfortable

And laugh to beat the birds

The Self Drops Free

The Self Drops Free

You relieved me of thoughts of the Self

I held the concept out trembling in my hands

Like a sickly bird that could not fly

For I did not want to let it go

It was everything

This quest for the True Self

Which had become deeply rooted in my mind

Bounding who I am within the confines of mere idea

And ideas don’t exist

They haunt the mind

Taunt it in a whirlwind of whispers

In Your presence

Overwhelmed in the light of wholeness

My hands shook with fear

And I persisted in this fear

As all humans must for change to happen

And my ideas of the Self dropped free

Like brown leaves from a great tree

That serve it no more

Nature

Nature

Everything is vibration...Everything is song

Kushi Uni

Kushi Uni

I drink a cup of balance
A cup of wholeness
And like oil and water
The inner muck gets pushed out
I hang the dirty laundry
In my private garden
And watch the soiled garments
Swing in the breeze
I water them with clear, warm tears
Until they’re drenched
Dripping down to slake the thirst of the grass

I can see what keeps me from You
I note the shapes, the cuts of fabric, the stitching
The worst are the ones with words woven into them
Like barbed fences and high guard towers
The tattered ones too, so old
Since I’ve had them since childhood
And somehow they’ve grown with me
Keeping pace with my growing body
Always maintaining a snug fit
And never losing stiffness or the hundreds of needles
Pointed inward and outward

Relieved of this branding
I see that I have chosen all of my garments
Not that I made them
But that I accepted them
And dress myself in the mirror with these same clothes every day

I’m naked and I close my eyes and turn my head to the sky
I can see patterns of veins illumined by the sun’s warmth
And I drape myself in their latticework
Regal and pulsing with the dignity of my being
I am a node, clean and open to the great vibrations of Your heart
Your rhythm, Green Mother, becomes my rhythm
And we dance in harmony as my voice erupts in song
The notes of which spring feathers and I rise into the brilliant blue
Out of my private garden
And see all boundaries are artificial
And that there is only You

Fire Tender

 

Fire Tender

I caught a glimpse of fire and reached out and took an ember and held it close to my heart. I want to be a fire tender, to help the flame pass through the ages, to be a small hand this fire passed through but for an instant.

Offering

 Offering

I made a furrow in the dirt with the tip of my finger and gave you an offering of tobacco. I asked if I could spend some time with you and you said yes without hesitation. I could tell you thought this request strange, as the birds never felt the need to ask.

I settled my back against your trunk, Grandfather, wise with the passing of time, your skin wrinkled and grey like an elephant’s. I took in your oak strength, exchanged breath with you in symbiotic communion, our most ancient vow, our deepest entanglement. I opened my heart because I knew you would accept anything I offered. It is not in your nature to deny. I pleaded for your wisdom and guidance. What should I do? How should I proceed? I stared into your beautiful canopy of sinuous branches, rippling like snakes frozen in time. Your net of verdant spring leaves ensnared my eyes and you spoke into my rapt attention.

You want to know, you want to be sure and have your guarantees but the heart’s path is not one of surety. See how my limbs curve toward the sun, molded by the seasons? I could not know what was to come, drought, storm or sun. I took what came and grew according to my nature. The path of the heart is like a strong wind. You do not fully know your heart yet. You have stepped into the current’s edge where you feel slight breezes and occasional gusts. Go deeper into the wind, follow your intuition, go where the air quickens, ever go towards that, using all your body to feel the source. One day you will enter the mighty flow, the main artery of wind and you will unfurl your heart and use it as a sail and you will not travel according to plan nor to a set of coordinates but according to a higher plan that has already been laid out for you, the magnetic north of your being. Do not seek the knowable way. Do not seek the safety of the clear path. If you can see the result and work towards the result than you are already at the end and there can be no journey. There will only be the passage of time. Be afraid and go with your heart, cling to it as your center for where it leads is where you are meant to be.

The net released, vision faded and I traced your skin with the swirls of my fingertips and gave thanks.

A Vision

A Vision

I fell through green leaves

Thousands of them

Whipping against my face

As my body plummeted

The foliage bore this

With such nimbleness

Not breaking

Just bending as I passed

On and on I fell until

You caught me in your slender arms

Cradled my momentum

And smiled when I looked into your

Violet eyes

You kissed me

With deep red lips and

Slipped your purple tongue over mine

With the sweetness of nectar

You became smaller and slid

Into my body through the opening you’d made

I stood tall with you inside me

I grew roots out my feet and

Became fast to the fertile earth

I raised my arms so that

Stems could shoot from my fingers

And rise quickly upwards

Sprouting leaves

Up to where they could unfurl

And bask in the sun

It felt so good

Down in the penumbra

I could feel the light pulse down my stem

Like a heartbeat

Not mine

But ours

Everything’s

Nutrients rose into my feet

I drank crystal clear water

And mixed it with the sun

This is my center

Where the everlasting light from above

Meets dark and loamy earth

A being grounded in shadow

Connected to golden light

The Creation of Love

The Creation of Love

I think it can be agreed that a creation is the product of a creator. It stands to reason that music was generated by the mind of a composer and a sculpture was made by the hands of a sculptor. Much can be learned about the nature of the human psyche from the seeming obviousness of these statements because upon analysis these statements are in fact, completely false. The inherent flaw these statements contain is the supposition that we created ourselves and the world around us. This is the thinking of a person living under the curse of insanity for we clearly did not create the air and vibrational laws through which music moves nor did we create the tree from which the sculpture is made. I don’t even want to bring who this creator was or is, whether this creator is a who or what a he or a she or an it or a set of laws – this argument does not require knowing what created all we see and know, it simply requires acknowledgment that humans did not design the mountains nor did we dream of the ocean and its waves and make them come to be. We had nothing to do with this. In fact, as far as the rational sphere can tell – the oceans were around far before humans even existed. Now that we have established this, what then does it say about us that we make wild and insane and bold statements like, “Isn’t he a wonderful composer?” It says we are living a lie of the grandest proportions. It says we have the utter hubris to lay claim to everything we see, this is our Kingdom and we rule and do with it as we see fit. Look around you. How is the management of this Kingdom of yours going? Your greatest assets are disappearing. What are the two things you must have? One, if you go without it for minutes, you die and the other if you go without it for days, you die. Air and water. How’s the air and water in your neighborhood? What do you think about going down to the local river and taking a drink? Would you be afraid to do such a thing? Where are the trees that supply your oxygen? We are cutting them down at an alarming rate and poisoning our waters, literally tainting our blood and asphyxiating ourselves. This is what happens when we harbor the insane notion that this is our Kingdom and we are the creators of our destiny. And what is to blame for this deadly and erroneous judgment? The ego. It must protect itself. And the only way it can protect itself is with lies because the ego itself is a lie. It whispers to you that you are a creator, a painter of beautiful images but I ask, did you create color and the materials you paint with? Did you construct the eyes that behold? Everything belongs to the true creator of this universe. Humans are simply a conduit for the miracle we participate in, nothing owned, everything given. You say but the ego is necessary! I did not ask for my ego, I inherited it! And this is true. The ego is necessary for survival…or it used to be. Feelings of dominion, the reservoir of rage, anger, greed, selfishness and fear which is the ego’s small domain, all contributed to help the genes survive, helped our ancestors live. But something happened. Our animal cousins must have no small measure of ego for we are not far from them and we did not arise from nothing. Maybe the difference is not one of intelligence but of perception. Somewhere along the way during our billions of years of journeying through time we boldly leapt from the peace of living in harmony to the dis-ease of living with the lie we are masters. Is this not the greatest evil, the very devil not just in your midst but embedded in the very core of your perception? The one who tells you you’re special, you’re different, you deserve more? And where has this gotten us as a species? Lonely, depressed, fractured, insane and desperate people who long for the peace of harmony but don’t even know how to ask for it.

There is one act of creation that has been given to us that is truly our Kingdom. And how blessed we are that it is the highest act of creation. This act of creation is love. It is our creative birthright, one we are all born with and all with equal capacity and measure. If everything we create is the result of and reliant upon the context into which we are born then truly the feeling of love is ours and ours alone. This feeling generated by the life which is yours can only come from within and is not dependent on nor does it answer to others. This is our only one and true creation, absolutely as unique as the individual. And what beauty! What grace it is to give and receive! Love, simple and pure and utterly profound. When it is unattached to the ego and selfless, as true love is - it serves to put the ego in its rightful place, as a servant to the higher Self. The result of the alchemization we undergo in the peace of love is communion. Understanding that we are no different than our brothers and sisters, that we are each inherently the same, children of the cosmos, which is what Father Sun in the sky reminds us of, a perfect circle, without beginning or end, ceaselessly giving off light and heat, always providing to everyone and everything without reservation or judgment. We are also children of our Mother Earth, all of us participants in the great web of life. The miraculous property of love is that it helps you realize you are not alone, you are not separate from the water or the trees nor indeed any living thing. When you see the world in this light, as it actually is, then you live in harmony because you are no longer perceiving yourself as outside this web, this magnificent system…we have a word for feeling outside this web of life and this word is hell. When one loves and removes themselves voluntarily from hell and it is voluntary and it can be done at any time for hell is an illusion, this separateness, it does not exist, even in the warrens of the most fetid city, we are still not separate, we are still tied to this web. But look what happens to this web when too many of us are living in hell, living out of the ego, sickness spreads to places we don’t even know about. Trees are felled. Mountains literally razed and waters rendered undrinkable and sterile with toxins. We need to claim our birthright and become the creators we are and live in harmony and love and this will mean we treat our cousins and brothers and sisters, the animal and plant life, with profound joy and respect for we would cherish them as our teachers and our providers and we would care for them as we care for ourselves, not look upon them as objects to be used as we will. Then there will be harmony and the deep peace that comes with it. Our waterways and air will be pure our forests will thrive because we will be thriving, in love and gratitude and honor.

Wild Beast

Wild Beast

You’re being stalked by a wild beast

If you stop and listen in the stillness

You can hear it sniffing the air

For your scent

When this beast catches your essence on the wind

Mingled with moss and trees

And the feathers of birds

It knows it will surely devour you

Don’t fight the inevitable

If you keep running

And trying to lose yourself in images

And the flickering desires they kindle within

You’ll only make it worse

The beast will flay you with such exquisite mastery

You won’t even feel it

And one day you’ll wake up and realize

You have no skin

And you’ll wonder how you managed to continue

Perhaps the heart isn’t subject to gravity

And it just keeps going in the direction it was set

The spirit is a master oarsman

Change direction

Get it over with

Follow the musty scent and low growl and

Throw yourself at your doom

Be torn to shreds by its great claws

Listen to the wisdom of its roar as you suffer

The ancient pains of dismemberment

And know it is your mind that cares

When it’s all over and the beast has done its work

Ask yourself

How can it be that I am still here?

I am no longer running because

I no longer have anything to protect

I am an empty vessel filled with bottomless love

Then you see the beast wears a mark

And this mark is your name

You come to understand this beast is your savior and ally

Because it only hungers for that which need not be

 

My Heart Radiates Desire In Waves

My Heart Radiates Desire In Waves

My heart radiates desire in waves that

Beat ripples of time

Filling the air with lines of energy

Don’t tangle!

Be strong and true

Like the arrows

Shot from a huntsman’s bow

Help me find my way to you

Help me hear your clear call

Through the obfuscating noise of

Confusion

Woven into the fabric of this Earth by

Minds enthralled by stories

Learned sitting at the feet of fear

Under the cold and insufferable

Light of reason

Blow through this tangled web we weave

Like a gentle breeze

Traveling through branches

Unhindered and free like water

Fill this humble sail

Made from scraps gathered from

True moments I’ve lived

Stitched together with sinew and time

Send me to you

So that I may drown myself

In your siren call

In Your Hands

In Your Hands

I placed myself in your hands
And didn’t even know it
Looking back
I realize
Your great hands rose up from the ground
And scooped me up
In your cornucopian fingers
Like a gardener does a small plant
Roots and earth and all

I walked a path
Through one of your untouched old places
The vibrations of trees pulsing in my chest
And rising up through my throat
The energy transformed by my being into song
I was so utterly taken
By the great woody beings
Who had stood through countless seasons
Over thousands of years
Adding ring upon ring of wisdom
To the great knobbed fingers

I, a mote to their sense of time
A passing shade flitting within their shadows
Found a quiet place and sat
And sang to you for love
And the woods bore witness
To the rushing of air
As I was swept up in your arms