Merging Galaxies

When one door closes, another one opens, but where the new door opens might not be immediately obvious.  You may need to be energetic, persistent and ingenious to find the new door.~Rob Brezsny

Today I wake to the challenge to see
this body, frozen trauma legacy
generations of alimentation
like an iceberg unreachable whose melt

threatens the world I’ve constructed, denounced
with every finger-pointed scorn pronounced
ungrounded, unsound, all imbalanced.
The door is firmly closed. How will I bounce

weighted with ancestral chains, yoke unseen?
The patterns I have fed don’t nourish me.
The keys, my beliefs, prisoners in time
rattle my fragmented cages. I scream.

And gently with precision you meet me.
You hear the shadows talking and we see.
In the deep listening of now this heart
coherence, a steady flame, thaws living sea.

 

It’s Turtles All The Way

In yesterday’s imbalanced waking
parch overwhelmed me. Today
I determine to soothe

water and grounding these indignant
filaments writhing and buzzing
from the past’s unintegrated

barrage. I sit and extract
my personal fear, empowered
to heal myself, my family,

my lineage, society, the planet
the universe and more.
Time and distance constructs

—the illusion of separation—
dissolve, tumble like a child’s
castle made of blocks.

We build beliefs in our jangled
misperception of danger,
forget to knock them down

laughing and certain
of our power to create anew.
I tune in to what is

as all the ripples of my intention
create balance
here in the present

where I, a self-healing miracle
of love, resonate
a heartbeat, breath

infused in everything that matters
which is all, which is one,
awakening and taking the step now.

 

Only Love Is Real

You don’t love hatred and evil, of course. You have to practice and see the real gull, the good in every one of them, and to help them see it in themselves. That’s what I mean by love.~Richard Bach, Jonathan Living Seagull

We burst into the world wet
and splutteringly vibrant

rage at the seeming separation
hunger a tyrant, magic flows

like breath, we coo, know
strangers bending over our

strange faces, power held
precious if we’re lucky and

our parents’ trauma isn’t triggered
in an endless cycle of war

unheard unheld until illusions
shatter once we’re all exploring matter

and how we in formation
create. Deep communication space

we choose to compose, call
songs of intention, offering love

we turn and face our greatest fears
ignite what burns slow, impossible

to quench. This beauty is real,
illusions fade and what awakes

the human race in love
we all set sail.

 

Embracing

the potpouri of dried beliefs
that scent my being

the unexamined tide that pulls me
I know nothing, sit in silence

ground my electric being
in the earth, over and over

again, as each new fragrance
generous and vivid triggers

another trauma welcomed
again and again. There is no

should be, only this embrace
of what is emerging

I recognize this
and let it go

now this
let it sizzle through my energy

field and held in your constant
kind regard as we breathe

in and out the simmering
stew of existence here now.

 

Love’s Warrior

I could light the night up with my soul on fire
I could make the sun shine from pure desire
Let me feel that love come over me
Let me feel how strong it could be
Bring me a higher love~Steve Winwood

It plays out
a silly drama designed to trigger
that frightened child’s trauma.
When she arises
I look with friendly eyes.
Warm welcome! I hereby call
this difficulty blessing, fall
with humility and clearly state
my intention to dispense with hate,
manifest a higher love
as I connect to the divine
above like light streaming
no longer in the mainstream
dreaming how, for
in the simple truth of now
releasing fear, I bring myself
heartfelt, on fire, here I dwell.

 

Unwrapping Gifts

My childhood trauma happens for me every time I get scared.  It may not mean what is “happening now” has anything to do with it.~Thomas Huebl

Far from the knife-wielding surgeon poised
to cut off what is

inflamed, named culprit
I sit

contemplate my unblemished limbs
praise the organs who whisper

long before a calamity.
All the places I call difficult

malady
teach me, reflect impeccable

wisdom of integration
what is ethical

Once I boycotted patriarchal
tyranny, the warrior’s way:

exclude and shun
others who caused me pain.

Trigger my shadows today
and where I used to run away

impugn as toxic, assign blame,
wallow in shame

now I stay.
Untangle what is mine

from what I’ve carried
all this trauma long buried.

Here I am and I confess
I bring each trouble wrapped

as tightly as I held myself
once certain in my solitude

I would not be met.
Innocence skewed

yet light reveals Intelligence
bounces and deflects away

from darkness I’m willing to display
unknowing, caught dumb

and wide-eyed in your patient
loving gaze, held in a different way.

Intent, committed to evolve,
this portion of the troubled planet

only I can solve
here with you, no longer stranded

 

Finding Breath

Where do I fight my experience?  Can I stop and say, this is what it is right now, and can I stay with it?~Anjet Sakkat

The I shoulds interrupt sleep
and so I rise, longing for deep
sweet breath, not this jerky ragged
approach to death. Bedraggled,
I resist the medicine
that covers and masks what is.
There is a gift to explore
a pattern in my core
though I would much rather
tickle a slick dance, gather
all my worries and doubts
undeserved love hideouts
throw them out labeled wrong
as if my birth does not guarantee
I belong. How can I soften?
The key to love these tired
eyes, this chest contracted.
My allies present the path
I so resent. And so I feel
the earth below my feet, real
and grounded, here I am
calm, watching the gentle
lift of diaphragm.

 

The Leading Edge

Our vibration goes up when we serve.~Thomas Huebl

A baby won’t ask for anything
you can’t give. All you have

requested by life that wants
to live. And I’m not trash talkin’

your mama, so caught in tight
ancestral trauma that a cry

in that wailing treble lands
like a devil in those spaces

genetically disheveled.
There is no blame, the centuries

laid out clearly but we can’t see
the hidden sculpture. Life

is not as it seems. We think the
pain may become our mainstay

if we don’t struggle. Make way.
We find ourselves while running

from what’s wronging
flee the leading edge, our

most farfetched longing
arms we hold outstretched.

We’re cautious, sniff the aromatic
clues, scents enigmatic and so

problematic and yet
a child knows when it’s time

to snuggle, surrender to the
fear. So often trouble

is the gift. When we accept
unwrap, perplexed, but willing

to be still upon the lap
we’ve cried for, all that rises

in connection–the winds,
the seas, the branches bending

low to feel our wailing cease.
Finally heard, we acquiesce and be.

A Thousand Miles Begins

Only when I walk forever, I have time for now and for you.~Thomas Huebl.

Like a curious time traveller
I arrive into the tribal
village, shaking my rain-
laden hair, blurring the ink
on these cryptic pages.

What is precise is
beyond words. Still, we
chant by campfire. Now
is true love peering
a surprised town crier.

Swimming an electric river
every atom buzzing, aquiver.
Forget the clock claiming
it’s time to scream, 3 a.m.
and nothing to do, only

to be aware of the false lonely.
Attempts to demarcate are made
afraid. This journey, a cascade,
is our masterpiece, ringing,
each essential voice singing

in our own key, a symphony
with all that should be
swirling through the fear
sometimes welcome here.
Allowing what is essential

to burn in this ancestral
fire’s focused laser weaving
lessons of millennia believing
us like chained sleepwalking bells
pulling sounds of now into our cells.

Inspired by Matchbox Twenty since my poem emerged when the clock showed 3. And Lao Tzu’s, “the journey of a thousand miles begins beneath one’s feet.”

Money For Old Rope

The path to crisis is boulder-
strewn difficult. One must
strenuously avoid the
temptation to do nothing–
that is, they say, when evil
triumphs. Beware any
chance to sit in silence
clear the inner murmuration
of starling-thoughts flying
intricate patterns of karmic
misperceptions. Try and try
again! Do! Move like a murder
of crows as the tempest
feeds on your panicked
activity. Onward, to the
breaking point! Trouble looms
and brewers, we foment
with such good intent, and yet,
our trajectile initiates from
hate, the very rules we seek
to dismantle. This is more than
we can handle.

We set down
the old-world tools
curious, unsighted
to receive what now
has newly lighted.

Inspired by: Triumph, Crisis, Nothing, Temptation and this photo taken in 1890 of my great-great grandfather visiting his son in Colorado.  Do we carry the old ways in our genes, or do they carry us on a wave of preconceptions?