Tears

Tears

Wonderful release

Calm, fierce

Our souls they soothe

            Our egos they pierce

 

They have many a Muse

Sadness and joy

A black and blue bruise

Or a broken toy –

            Down the cheeks they pursue

 

Memories from the past

Fear of what is to come

Sometimes they come instantly fast

Or stay for a while, as we come undone

            Eternity in a moment,

            Forever they last,

            Then gone with a flash

 

They hold the weight of the world

In their tiny-ness small

Representing minds broken and hearts twirled

In slow motion they fall

            Bold human display of Eros uncurled

 

*image by Norbert, Gertrude and Chuck

 

Undercover Me

Undercover Me

Sometimes I like to go undercover

And hide myself from me

I can't go out in public

And allow myself to be free

Then I would be exposed 

and everyone knows how that goes

Subject to relationship and conversation

Responsibility and intervention 

With friend and foe.

I would be outed for sure

And discover myself

Something I'm desperately trying not to do

I wouldn't even tell myself secrets

Or stories or things near and dear

Not enough courage and too much fear

To appear

To myself

So candid and bold

I'd rather hide until I get old

It's a tricky sort of thing being 

A trickster on self

Nowhere to hide

Nowhere to run

Not in the shadows

Nor in the sun

There’s got to be a way

I’ll find it I’m sure

Maybe I’ll set a trap

With a great big lore

That’ll do it

I’ll prove it

To no one

Not even to me

Because you see

That would jeopardize me

Hush….

Quiet….

Stay low

Move slow

Don’t make a peep

So I can sneak

And slip one by

I’ll never expect it

Because it’s just me and I

 

* image by Norbert, Gertrude and Chuck

 

Mindful Nest

Mindful Nest

I've got to get back to my mindful nest

a place that is mine

to restore

and rest.

 

It's where I go to refresh,

to relax and enjoy

alone and quiet

without loneliness.

 

When I have moments of duress,

feeling bumpy and grumpy

I like to be still

and forget all the stress.

 

My mindful nest

is where I can clear my thoughts

and feel comfortable

so I can perform my best.

 

Sometimes when I'm a bit clueless,

I breath deeply

close my eyes

and try not to obsess.

 

My mindful nest is warm

and glows like a halo,

like the ultimate refuge

safe from the storm.

 

It is decorated with tranquil art

a cosmically calming design,

outside of space and time,

and beats in sync with my heart.

 

The place is a wondrous space,

crystal clear

pristinely powerful

and flowing with grace.

 

I must learn to have it with me all the time

to take it wherever I go,

so when life bumps me with challenge and opportunity,

I will have that nest in mind.

 

                                                                                                                                                                    * Image by Norbert, Gertrude & Chuck

 

 

How do I want...

How do I want...

How do I want the experience that I'm having?
With all the topsy turvy,
Upsy downsy
Kerfuffling about.
How do I sink into the sadness
And embrace it as a gem in the human spectrum?
How do I revel in the madness as a highlighted sensation of being alive?
How to I celebrate in the confusion,
Thrive in the awkwardness,
And relish in the anger, pity, guilt and loneliness?

Oh the interconnectedness of it all.
Oh the moments of sheer ecstasy and joy and bliss and jubilation — just as potent and significant as the dastardly, devilish polarity.

This range of human sensation is overwhelming.  Worth it I'm sure.

I have a full, burstingly bountiful palate of emotion. 
No one more or less important than the other. 
No one better or worse.
No one more desirable. 
They are all for me — and us —
To dance with,
To investigate,
To join and commingle. 
To experience as we breathe.

How is it that I want the experience I'm having? 
Without trying to push it away. 
Without trying to change it. 
Without trying to be somewhere other than exactly where I am.  

I'll stumble along this topsy turvy,
Upsy downsy
Landscape of kaleidoscopic Spirit at Play within my corporeal design
As long as I feel.

We get it all.
The wide array,
The fullness, the allness, the overwhelming — and underwhelming! — everything
To show us that we contain all.
To show us that we can feel so many capricious forms of concrete consciousness.
Our vessel is a highly tuned antenna
Suckling at Grace. 
The magnificent and dispassionate Grace. 
A Grace that we must radically accept as having no preference. 
It doesn't take sides on the feeling game.  
It gushes forth.
It entirely encompasses sensibility, 
Appealing to every possibility,
Every desire, want, wish, realm,
Reason and rhyme.

The everything of everythingness.
Is that what it means to be titilatingly alive?

So how is it that I go about wanting the experience that I'm having?

 

Presents Inside

Presents Inside

I have presents inside me
And so do you
Little packages of experience
Big boxes known and unknown

When we meet
When we chat
When we interact
When we dance and sing and love and fight
My packages, my boxes, my presents
open

Some contain stories of truth and wisdom
Others are epics of miss adventure
Some are fables of fancy
Others are tales of triumph and valor
Some are volumes of emotion
Others are catalogues of false notions

My presents burst open without even knowing
Showing me my self-storage
I wish it was free
It costs my time and energy
I spend my thoughts and emotions
I owe debts on my doubt
And interest on my interests

These gifts open themselves sometimes
Whenever I see or feel something
Who knows when it will happen
Sometimes a message or song
A note or a voice
Will remove the wrapping
Whether I like it or not
My packages
My stuff
My storage
Is raw and ready
To be ripped forth
To be delicately undressed

There are some that are hidden
Memories long lost
Reveries of relevance
Experiences of inapplicability
That come forth when least expected

They pop and explode sometimes
Nothing but a blur
Nothing but crude, raw sensation
Nothing but an emotional outburst 

As I slip and slide along this thing called life
My present and past and future presents
Reveal aspects, components, pieces and parts
Of my told and untold experience
They are displayed and played
For anyone and everyone close to the blast zone
These internal explosions
Are triggered by you and things and stuff
They allow, invite and challenge me to look
To see what's there
To behold and bare witness
To become plundered like a protagonist
In an internal play
For all to see
For others to play in their play
To be played like players in our own worlds
Our own tiny universes
Crossing over and intersecting
Into the human drama
Into humans' dramas

Like Christmas
We each play Santa for each other
Giving opportunities to rip open our presents
Stimulating new and old openings
New and old chances to dance
In our exposed hidden self

We bump and rub
Celebrate and revel
In what's there inside of us
What's stored
What's hidden
What has come out to play
In this collective and respective
Self and community
Revelation

 

Working In

Working In

Everyone talks working out.

Gyms and classes

Bikes and stair masters 

Shaking and toning 

Beautiful asses.

Push-ups and pull-ups

Crunches and core

Machines and mats and weights galore.

Or perhaps it's a run or a swim

Losing that flab

Making us thin.

Sweating and grunting

Strengthening and fat hunting.

 

But what about working in?

Where do we start?

How do we begin?

Do we dump out the mind with meditation?

Swirling thoughts and ideas 

Smeared across our consciousness screen.

How do we make that trim and lean?

Perhaps we follow the breath,

Into the belly and up to the chest?

Exhale long and slow

Will that help?

What sort of results will show?

 

So, what about our heart and emotions

All that internal commotion?

Happy and sad

Joyful and mad

Crappy and glad?

What do we do to unglue

From the yucky, icky, feeling brew?

What sort of therapy will help me find

Peace and tranquility 

Calm and serenity

Harmony and equanimity?

 

What about our intuition?

Does our instinct really have a solution?

How do we know?

How does it show?

Is it a sensation or feeling that has its place?

Indicating a trail or a trace

A course of action?

Is it an impulsive reaction 

In our gut or center mass?

How strong is it?

And how long does it last?

 

This working in can be tough as can be

Especially because the muscles, we can't see.

If we could even call them that.

May have to invent a new way 

To bring about change that stays.

A new language or code 

In with the new, out with the old.

This exploration is only for the strong and bold

And keen and crazy 

And slow and lazy

And anywhere in between 

I mean 

It's the inner areas that we can choose to seek,

Ok, let's go in 

And take a peek.