The increase in complexity includes the generation of millions upon millions of complex forms of life, all with complex behaviors, all tied together through webs of connection and relationship. All an irremovable part of the web of life. All of them a part of Gaia, all of them Gaia in one form or another. ~ Stephen Buhner
The healing path can seem torturous
a labyrinth of tree
tunnels with no higher perspective.
My brother says there is no god as his port
is filled with chemo. He has renounced
religious dogma and its political control.
He scoffs at faith in magic.
I wanted to write a novel
about the spiritual poverty
inherent in my own debilitating illness.
Raise a commotion
about the cause of inflammation.
Add more fuel — such valuable
wood, hand-collected, to the very fire
I wish to comprehend.
The wildfire that swept through
and burned every bit of me.
Going deep into the woods
trudging sometimes alarmed
by the roots that trip,
the looming shadows, deep
with danger. For so long, I have
watched the skies, rejoicing
in sun-dappled touches,
Seeking illumination as the way out
of here. Here in the primeval
forest of fragile beginnings
in the rotting decomposition
the place which the lightseekers
avoid. I let go of these precious
bodies I’ve been dragging. Gaia has been
waiting for me, in me,
where all the adjustments I seek
can be woven. My colors,
my yarn, my patterns.
Only I can create space to feel
these intricate threads which stretch
vibrating between us in a harmony
I must simply trust
and allow to unfold.
My essential being opens
in this presence huge
beyond my comprehension.
Available perhaps only through
transmission. Every word dripping
in a poem of power
to land its healing vibes
directly into your heart.
Inspired by: Debilitate, Commotion, Novel, Poverty