Sunday, April 8, 2018

One direction

There is an energy, a life that flows out in one direction.  It needs not receive anything, yet it encompasses all.  The Three circle and dance, and their love flows out from the dance, spinning and flowing in all directions.  There is not a place it has not yet reached.  Not a place it has not yet seen.  It was there first.

The flow is perfect.  The most powerful force in existence, rushing, pouring, bubbling, engulfing.  Yet hidden in plain sight.  Let my eyes die to me so that I can see that which is beyond death.  Let my heart die to me so that it may rest on the beat of the Heart of the Universe.  Let my mind die to me so that it may sink into the fertile soil of wisdom.  To decompose into the which was before me.  Of old, yet always new.

The waterwheel of life spins and spins.  Splashing and spinning with great glee.  It is our true belonging.  We are spiritual beings having a human experience.  But this does not deter from the beauty of the physical world, rather the physical world is born out of the spiritual, as baby chicks come forth from the egg of their mother.  Therefore to find out what the beauty of the physical is, is at the same time to affirm the beauty of the spiritual.  We are not divided.  We are not compartmentalized.  We do not die to one world to be taken to another.  Rather, we die to our understanding to be swept up by the ground of being, which also holds the physical together.

The poet, the mathematician, the builder, the architect, the crying mother, the lonely father, we are all telling the same story.  Whether we know it or not.  We are all longing for the same thing.  We are more connected than we think.  Only in our minds are we separate.  Only in our mind are there distinctions.

So let the waterwheel flow, let it cover everything I am.  Let my eyes be baptized in it's grace.  Let my existence be baptized in it's love.

Friday, March 23, 2018

Circling around

It cannot be directly perceived.  It must be circled around.  And maybe, some of it will rub off on us.  The beauty of beauties can be forever fallen into.  We need no safeguard.  We can fall in any direction, there is still an infinite number of directions to fall into.  That which made the cosmos is infinitely further reaching that that which it has made.

Let us fall.

Friday, March 16, 2018

Sleep Sweetly Child

You are cared for.  If you experience pain in this life, it will not be yours alone.  You are watched over.  If you have heights or valleys, you will not walk them alone.

Rest your head.  Sleep sweetly.  Dream hopeful dreams.  The burden is not yours to carry.

Rest your body.  It is beautiful inside and out.  Material is born out of spiritual.  You are good.

Rest you mind.  The ground of being has you, you cannot add to or take away from it.

Rest your soul.  Eternity is offered it.  That which is temporary fades.  You are made for endless beauty.

Rest you legs.  You cannot run too far.  You cannot travel to be unreached.  No where you have gone has tarnished who you truly are.

Rest your arms.  Let sweet sleep repair the strained muscles.  Let rest give you new strength.

Rest your eyes.  You are held much more than you could ever take in.  All that you see does not define you.  The reality of it is better.

Rest your heart.  There is a Mender of hearts.  The Mender knows what you have gone through.  The Menders knowing is enough to swallow up your pain.

Rest.  Sleep sweetly.

Finally free

No more bondage.  No more cages.  No more internal fighting.  No more hate.  No more apprehension.  No more weariness.  No more waging internal war.  No more fires to put out.  No more deferred hope.  No more anything that is anti-life.

Hope realized, hope finally fully lived into.  Free, finally free.

Finally Home

No more wondering.  No more tributaries meandering wandering through the wood, meager and meek.  No more complaints.  No more discouragement.  No more, "this, no wait, wait, that!"  No more pain.  No more arguments.  No more mulling over scratch in my head, time after time.  No more separation.  No more segregation.  No more division.  No more fear.  No more anxiety or worry.  No more bitterness.

Finally home.

A place where I can rest my head.  And to be home, finally home.

Schisms Cease

The fragments stir.  The isolated parts start to vibrate.  The pick up on the resonance, if only a little.  Could there be others?  Am I the only one?  A hope, a quite voice inside wonders if I'm not.  But in order to move from my position, I first must melt.  My edges and limbs are to stale and stuck to move me towards what I hope for.  Shall I let go?  Yes.  I quit trying to push out and come in.  My edges and limbs quit trying so hard to hold their ground.  Can I soften?  Yes.  The edges are already of a softer consistency.  Moving in, the core seems less frozen, there is some movement.  Shall I continue?  Yes.  It's scary, but strangely liberating.  Ok, here we go.  I give way a little more.  The edges have now migrated towards the middle, the middle mix with the edges, the core seeps into the others.  The parts of myself that once were divided, once compartmentalized, start to share with each other.  I feel like a being instead of a robot.  Or at least the start of one.  Shall I continue?  Yes.  I give way more, the middle starts to collapse, the edges join force.  What was once hard and sharp has become moldable, responsive to the air and ground.  Now I am a puddle on the ground, but not stationary.  The ground is sloped.  I'm flowing in a direction.  What's that to the left?!  Another liquid blob, flowing too!  We gain speed.  And now ahead and to the sides more moving blobs of different colors and sizes become visible.  We all make our way down the slope, from each side of the center?  What happens when we meet?  And then, it happens.  We join.  We come together.  The colors mix.  What once was small dabs of liquid making our way along joins and continues to join others.  Till be become a tributary.  A river.  And finally, we reach the ocean.  All.  Is.  Well.

A Great Compassion

It speaks to us through the flowers.  The mountain tops echo it beauty.  It sings through the stars in the sky.  It's in-between the most concealed cracks.  To run from it is to run into it.  It calls our hearts. It calls our souls.  It feels our pain.

Nothing is meaningless.  All is up for redemption.  Darkness flowing in can be rays of light flowing out.

We are not alone in our pain.  Our musings are not ours alone.  There is One who shares our burdens. We cannot reach a place where we are alone, no matter the darkest hole we go down.  The One will be waiting for us there.

Preceding a spoken word is a spirit it is born from.  And preceding the spirit it is born from is a great compassion that seeks to speak through everything.

When we have given up on ourselves, we are not given up upon.  When it seems we have chosen darkness, light has still chosen us.  When we are on a plank atop the vast ocean, the ocean is love.  When our experience and what we hope for don't seem to coincide, there is a deeper Reality that eternally understands.  When we want to try for one thing, but do another, love is found in both.

My shortcomings.  My darkness.  My anger.  Are but pebbles looking up at the tidal wave.  They are meant to be swept up, to give way to the great adventure.