What Appears To Be

It is time to practice how to attune to the new reality that Gaia is preparing…See people awakening and walking their own paths towards the new.
The circle of humans that stand in the light of the new reality is larger and larger. Rejoice and give thanks.~Marko Pogačnik

In the ubiquity of fear and smear
of politics and media, oh,

we fall asleep standing right here,
declare we’re copacetic—cheer

thrilled as the festivities appear.
We forget that we are desperate

addicts, looking for a fix, oh,
we won’t call it that, hush, dear.

As Gaia makes this quantum leap
in her own evolution, the sphere

we are vibrates into light, oh,
breathe into us the words: all clear.

We’re fingers on the hand waving
into the mirror. We are love, oh,

look into our palm, life peer,
the lines are trails into the new.

The web we weave spinning, oh,
into the space appearing now.

Inspired by: Copacetic, Ubiquitous, DesperateFestivities and the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt, oh.  (The rules: Your post must be stream of consciousness writing, meaning no editing (typos can be fixed), and minimal planning on what you’re going to write.  And today it was sooooo hard not to edit.)

Finally, finally

Do you always trust your first initial feeling?
Special knowledge holds true, bears believing.
I turned around and the water was closing all around
Like a glove, like the love that had finally, finally found me.~Stevie Nicks

I want to school her in yes and
clinging to her ideals sunders

our agreement. I say, be cautious
of labels and she says it shouldn’t

matter, only right action does.
The judgment of what is right

so nebulous it creates a fissure
and our power diminishes. We wade

through tidal pools, chasing
the truth while ancient coral

cuts into our flesh as jagged
matter does. We reach the sea

at last, this pulsing vital force
like love, too endless to name

even though it’s often claimed
in the beginning was the word.
Continue reading Finally, finally

Your Grace

Orange and black butterfly teases
the breeze in a déjà vu loop

down-west to east-up mystery,
not a monarch. I open

the door, regret the reflected
flash in the fisher’s eyes.

What if every single thing
that dings my perception

is a miracle asking
for my thanks? What if

the offering I give
my sacred attention

is exactly what is
missing? I make free

of research and hypotheses
to prove. Release the idea

of traitor and treason to some
sovereign–painted lady–who has

carved wealth from my ancestors’
bones. Even this guitar,

pulling my fingers into old
patterns, calling my voice

to yesterday’s lyrics is new
in my embrace this morning.

I am in love
with my presents here now.

Every breath opens me
to new vistas eclipsing past.

I am supported by the wind
so light the ripples in the

grass can barely be seen,
but they bless me in this

guileless being, and changed,
we sing. Quietly, mindful

of the fishing heron’s dance,
poised like a priest at the altar

awaiting the congregation of
fishes to appear for their

sacramental blessing, a
visible form of grace.

Inspired by: Traitor, GuilelessResearch and the voice of my Ovation guitar–given as a birthday present 46 years ago–still bright and sonorous.

Opening in Rain

If humans are interconnected in such a way that one person’s awakening could be informing the rest of the species, then this could indicate that we are on track for a exponential awakening event of the kind that could transform us as a species overnight.~Caitlin Johnstone, The Humans Are Waking Up.

My roommates turn away from
the tristful morning, sighing over

the missing sun. I move to the
porch to repudiate the judgment,

not from some highfalutin
need to be right, it’s simply

great blue heron is watching
the wake where big bass

chased minnows to the surface.
I am conscious of wild

treasures, give thanks to hunted
and hunter, to watcher and

rain, slowing imperceptibly.
Snake glides in a vee across

the bay. Green heron perches
on the dock rails startling

nearly simultaneously as my
binoculared gaze touches.

Patches of fog dance dreamily
over the deep channels. I shift

from observer, ground myself,
sinking deep into the earth.

Dragon fire from the heartcore
pulses at the portal, awaiting

my express invite. Where you go,
mother, go I, inseparable,

your rooted daughter opening
now the door to the universe

flooding through my perception
of a skull. I give my breath

to this being
beyond grateful, holding wide

space beyond separation
that no longer serves.

Did it ever? Awareness spreads
something unknown leaps

and we all are touched
by the present ripples.

Inspired by Tristful, Highfalutin, Repudiate and Nearly. and this monthly meditation by Marko Pogacnik.

Easy-peasy

Way down south, days start slow

sitting in the terra-cotta

and white tiled courtyard

serenaded

by birdsong

foreign to my ears,

but not my heart.

Listen.

I’m sipping nitro, a local

delicacy, smooth and bursting

in a way that flavor somehow

instructs:  Savor!

A quick rustling in this fruit-

laden hedge

above which loom live oaks

and palm trees.  In the huge pots,

creamy cups ascend a stalk.

These living beings nameless,

exquisite mysteries demanding

my narrative shift from the knowing

place.  I enter childlike

innocence

reciprocal delight,

sink into this new spell

attuned to

the ancient language

of wild celebration, life

wanting to live.

Inspired by: Abroad, Foreign, Narrative and Stalk.