DECLARE.
Declare the sacred space of your Inner Landscape.
UNRAVEL.
Unravel the hidden turning points of Desire.
LUXURIATE.
Luxuriate in the Territory of Peace.

Declare the sacred space of your Inner Landscape.
Unravel the hidden turning points of Desire.
Luxuriate in the Territory of Peace.

The color of changing leaves
is a sign of the symphony we hear.
We arrange the colors of life carefully,
folded underwear in new-fallen snow,
patterns, networks, dominoes,
sand-castles
The color of changing leaves
is the voice that we hear;
that enters our nostril and leaves by our ear:
informs us of sanity between birth and death,
a place were we rest, celebrate, sip
surrender

The Turning of Daylight Hours
Brings about the Best of You in the house
Laundry is Done, Dinner is On
Afternoon Steeps the longer shadows of the Sun.
The idea behind this is, “stop blaming them and learn the lessons they were meant to teach you, and move on!”
The whole thing seems aimed at the foundational piece of work we call “accountability” – meaning, let go blaming externals for your circumstance, and address the only real changes you can make – changes to your self.
So, all in all, a good call, but a strange belief system to get there.
So, if I can indeed choose my parents before I was born, that implies some kind of “catalog” system, where you can choose from a variety of models. Perhaps, “blond or brunette”? Perhaps, “Hungarian or Australian”? Perhaps “angry, moody, creative vodka-drinkers as opposed to “camouflaged, repressed, white anglo-saxon protestants”?
It’s amazing what this “catalog of parents” might have looked like. Let’s back up here a bit: there’s many assumptions that would have to be in place to “buy in” to this little belief system, akin to the leap we need to make to “buy in” to any religion.
Since we’re “choosing” our parents, this decision-making process must require some kind of brain activity, such as the ability to perceive, see or sense the choices; then the discernment, judgment or intuition needed to make the “correct” choice, based on the “lessons” we need to learn; therefore memory cells that hold the lesson plan as well. So, it seems a “brain” of some kind would be needed, long before conception took place, in order to sift through these possibilities and weigh them out.
Solitude vs Ceremony.

And you wonder,
somewhere in the
cracks of uncertainty:
who is “Christ” in all this …
if this really, indeed celebrates
the birth of an enigmatic teacher,
then, where-oh-where
is Teacher and Teachings
in all this?

We listen to them all.
We believe many of them.
We are pulled, pushed, nudged, awakened, sedated, seduced, mystified, bewildered and entertained by these voices.
We rarely question.
I got this great “communications” package a few months back from one of our local magnanimous Communications Giants. Phone, internet and TV all for a ridiculous price. How kind of them.
It even includes a “Personal Video Recorder”, which hums incessantly in the background of my apartment. Apparently, you can use this device to record the little gems you missed on the 500-channel universe, while you were too busy wasting your time with other distractions.
There is a Life Lived between Sentences,
A fragrance in the Dots, the Pronouns,
the Fresh Morning Adjectives.
We speak of Love rarely in our Lives,
As though Love is a Four-Letter word,
discouraged through Generations of History,
Frowned-Upon by the Mentors of an
Technicality-Hungry culture.

There is a Quiet Dream,
a Small Self that remains un-lived.
A Bouquet of Promises, a Banquet of Streams.
Through the doorway of Internal Self
we glimpse the Eternal Self: beautiful, small,
well-formed, delicately-maintained,
Impeccable in its un-judged perfection.