In the fragile moments…

…love needs to run the show.~Thomas Huebl

Each factoid conflates and the
twittering ensues: a chirp of doubt
a caw of derision cues uneasy
flutters of the flock, buffleheads
suddenly alert. A silent bald
eagle swoops spiraling
a kick of panic, they rise
called to scatter, frantic.
It seems that things are breaking
away. The landscape shifts
earth shaking, heart aching.
Eerie, empty and the lap
of water here where I anchor
settle my electric nerves
though I may wish to fly
I find I’m rooted in relation.
How may I serve you?
Reactions seek ground. Out of
the box confined, away from
the flickering nervous screen
I bow before this glorious
life delightful flow
through me in ways
I cannot say. Silent now
leave the fray. Together
we will find a path
that’s kind. We go within.
Embrace the fear awaiting
I’m with you. In connection
we will hold a space
for what is true
emerging in our humble grace.

Soundcloud recording here.

Inspired by: Conflate, Delightful, Kick and Anchor.

My Capacity To Resonate

Something emerging through the listening.~Thomas Huebl

He said, step into the shoes
of the perceived other and

I miss baba ghanoush, especially
—my one-time specialty—

of all the nightshades banned.
Oh, I understand when inflammation

is the only game in town,
each culprit a revelation

as I regain ground lost
off balance. It’s not by chance

that I exchange dairy and gluten
for freerange bison, high-falutin’

local food only, who knew?
Tomatoes and peppers taboo.

How must they feel, excluded,
deemed dangerous and never included

in my menu? Ah, loves,
our separation’s only temporary.

I sit in silence, release the stress
I carry—mountains of collective trauma

sparking my tired body’s drama.
And now into stress’s shoes I climb

and see, it’s what’s too much
that lingers, never felt just

branded on the skin, a red
raised welt. So many frightened

parts of us are banned, moving
with great longing to land, yet

pushed away. I sit. And say,
what’s culturally approved

what society gives sanction to
suddenly opens, the floodgates bursting

wide, the ones we’ve damned
and pushed aside reclaimed

right now.
Inclusion is the tao.

Inspired by: Revelation, Exchange, Eggplant (and thus baba ghanoush), Approve and a recent talk about being present to Climate Change between William Ury and Thomas Huebl.  You can watch it here.  There is a powerful 14-minute meditation starting at 37:40.

Soundcloud recording here.

The Energy Release

Dedicated to the magical Eva

We practice the great art: embrace
what arises in our widest place.
In wordless zest we see
who takes the reins and drives
me through each shadowed face.
We relegate gregarious
inclinations to conflate
nefarious motives.
Whether she is eight or some past life,
ancestress or an archetype,
what matters
are these chains she holds.
We see her vigilance wary
yet her power to subsume–
all my personal space set
to devour.
Our container holds
witness on the beach
building multidimensional sand
castles in our reach.
We are here
to celebrate
as the light reveals the shackled,
shackler and more,
the very chains, the dungeon floor.
We peer through
the acrid smoke, the gasp
of rattled lungs. We find the one
who traces spirals on her
palms, while seeming bound.
The treasures found! As if
a stage, the script blocking
the exits and the entrances in time
locking it all
and still I’m circling
to meet myself at last.
The past survival story
of the wise witch in her
glory now.
The residues of pain
I count as gain.
Healing dances through the sleep-
less night, energy released
from places deep must find
the way. Obstructions melting.
I’ll be okay.

Inspired by: Zest, Gregarious, Conflate and Personal.

Soundcloud recording here.

This Is The Path

So much to digest
the buoyant trauma bobbing up
escaping my firm and
constant pressure to keep
this drama contained.
Letting all the content
settle under calm
guidance, a transmission
irradiates the presence,
diamonds formed from coal.
All the dark and fearful
places, shunned, unknown
arise in us. I’m tearful
as I recognize in you
in me, in us, love’s
intelligence, the will
to live, protecting innocence.
This lost and hungry child
in you, in me, in us,
so long exiled, we welcome
now. There is no better
you. The Tao simply includes.

Inspired by: Settle, Buoyant, Irradiate and Guidance.

Listen here on soundcloud.

Echoes Of The Future*

What is the part of me that calls me onto a path?  I believe the part that calls us is the echo of the memory of the future–the reverberation of remembering the future.~Thomas Huebl

The child has learned
to be taciturn.
What can you expect
when the means to correct
her are myriad and cruel?
Enter the Yule.
Does she dare to hope
a little gift will help her cope?

Pain’s duration
is no aberration.
Satellites have filled the skies
with starry lies.
The ground has all been paved.
Have you been saved?
The father asks, her yes
coerced, professed;
the no submerged
unheard yet I am opening
the door, focusing
light in this dark place.
Ah, child, when I wore that face!
Listen, darling, to the calling.
Time itself is falling.

Inspired by: Yule, Expect, Taciturn and Duration and this amazing talk by Thomas Hubl, The Echo Of The Memory Of The Future*.

Listen to this on soundcloud.

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.

Inspired by: Jack, Detective, Hewn and Precious.

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.

Listen to it on soundcloud here.

And here is Rob Brezsny’s 8-minute celebration of love, World Kiss, that arrived in my inbox right before writing time.

You Call Me Uncharitable

To meet a helicopter mind the only way
is let the rotors still, those deadly blades
whir you away, cut me
if I meet you in the air.
I’m not suggesting I don’t care.

This water is too deep; you’ll need
a forced landing where you will feel
small, if you feel at all.
Storytelling’s never gonna work.
Now you believe I’m acting like a jerk.

Stay grounded on this tiny islet
just ignore the urgent pilot’s
demand/the signal’s jammed
on replay: flee! get the hell away!

Be safe with me and breathe.
I’m holding space
allowing what emerges in the we.
Let the longing for belonging
guide you home. It’s not out there
in a psychiatric tome.
Here’s a clue:
It’s where I’m happening in you.

The painful past conditioning
you be polite the truth don’t say
be nice you’ll rue the day
your tongue slipped in company
you ran off grumpily, swatted and scorned.
Invited here, you can’t sit still.
Squirming through old agony.
And now you’re mad at me.
You’re dragging all the past
into our space. And ah, you’re pissed
when I don’t look
at each stained page of your book.
It’s so complex, I gently say,
when you complain and object
at my lack of respect. By the way,
that book is also written in me,
know it by rote,
could quote from memory
all the bad things that ever happened to me,
but that takes all of our energy.

So in this moment
–all that there is–
let’s just sit with who emerges
saluting the insurgents
in the hearts we join together
–shhh–there is no blame.  Realize
this healing path is littered
with our shame.

Inspired by: Charitable and Litter.

Listen to this on soundcloud