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

Echoes

Echoes

We are all echoes, reverberations of a single Being. Everything we perceive is a reflection of a single unity. Imagine a swiftly flowing river of limitless depth, the surface entirely placid as there are no obstructions and no friction to disturb the surface. Now imagine a branch as it penetrates the surface of the water. The current now becomes apparent as the ripples radiate outward, the manifested energy’s properties dictated by the shape and position of the branch. This is you. You are not the branch. The branch is your ego, your error in perception. You are the water. Not a drop or a measure but all of it.