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.


Love’s Perspective

I’m not afraid of running out of love. The more love I give, the more love I have to give.~Rob Brezsny, World Kiss

I bless you precious basketball
bobbing along the iced edge

of the bay: forlorn, forgotten
by the children who missed

the hoop and changed the game
to this cold and lonely lake

tour. Here where the springs
bubble up in the hole hewn

by the highway contractors,
here is beauty. Breathtaking,

heart-opening basketball, faded
into a mustard yellow with a frost

cap, observing with a detective’s
stealth. Alive in the living waters,

as I am. Fractals of the complex
humming earth, creatures forged

from stardust and sound, light,
energy. I release the separation

that declares my sentience supreme:
what I have is yours and yours

is mine. Vibrations of love,
we presence one another,

tuning in and reflecting
disturbances in the field,

so easily corrected when we
are intent on kissing our wounds.

Bringing them like sobbing children
to our mother. Nurturing each

other, every one of us called
thing or it or jack—even

this flickering sentient screen bestowing
this message, records your metadata

expressions as you read
these words. All of us alive

and brimming with it. I’ve thrown
off the separation, I’ve missed

the target, spinning, throwing
blessings to every thing that matters.

We. Us. And what comes before
the word the intention

the transmission deep
abiding love, the blank page

on which we write in our
feverish dreaming. Kissing

cousins. Nothing is
as it seems.

Photo taken after a long climb in Oahu when I felt overwhelming love for all of creation. May it transmit that same all-encompassing love to you.


Feeling Art

Dare to depict life as a gift whose purpose is to enrich the human soul. Are you truly ready to shed the values and self-images that keep you locked into alignment with the dying civilization?~Rob Brezsny

My grandson says, “I do and
I don’t.
” Innate wisdom reveals

the simplicity of being.
If I say I know,

my opinion carries me
past the divine communication

directed at my unique eyes
into the doldrums of dismissal.

Cast out of the curious life
by the necessity of surviving

the chaos of my childhood ordered
by hard-won knowing.

Now when the elephant in the room
beckons, I turn my back.

Surely an orphan,
I place my blindfold

firmly, lock the shackles
to shuffle down the well-trodden

path of dull misery, clutching
my diplomas, reciting facts.

The lake celebrates each slow
drop of rain. I peer in wonder.

Evanescent dancers touch
smoothness, and ripples tease

what lurks beneath. A fin
breaks the silver

and smaller circles explode.
All my stories vanish.

I don’t know. The truth lies
under the surface.

I can only sit here now,
my intent to open

my tight heart, feel into
this deep unknowable connection.

Inspired by:  Orphan, Intent, Elephant and Evanescent.


“The Vanuatu people believe that secrecy is what gives power to the illness. When the error is confessed, it no longer has power over the person.” ~ Claire F. Parsons

I use my camera

lens to magnify

the chasms in my relationships,

focus on how his head

tilts toward her shoulder

while this one leans away, forced

smile, dead eyes.  I only want

to find stimulating sanctuary

in a carefully constructed coterie,

leaving kin to their hearty

holiday bluster, having said a firm no

to the party propaganda, and refusing

any longer to defend the truth

or facts.  Yet this time is most

auspicious to heal rifts,

declare amnesty, forgive debts,

reconcile and make peace

treaties with joy and unbounded love.

I must own

my part of the struggle,

no longer dumping all the blame

— so obviously insupportable,

what a jerk! — instead

to pluck it like a four-leaf clover.

Lucky me, starting anew!

In ancient times, tradition summoned

the shaman at grave illness.

From all corners of the island,

every relative gathered to sit

and confess, exposing

ill thoughts, hostile feelings,

inimical deeds, every adverse

vibration.  They knew the power

of truth and reconciliation,

and they stayed until the sickness

rose like smoke, replaced by

dedicated and directed love.

Inspired by: Your Liberated Heart, Rob Brezsny’s expanded horoscope, Stimulating, Tradition, Camera, and  Coterie.