The Quiet Tide of True Connection …

Evening is a “quiet time”.
Most people have settled slowly into the refuge of the night: reading, knitting, digesting, TV, dreams, sex, sleep.

The sun and moon hold the earth in their cradle and light slowly fades on the horizon of time. Other countries light up. Other people awake. Clusters and groups and families all seek their fame and fortune. Accomplishment. Survival. Enjoyment. Giving and Taking. Buying and Selling. The Market. The Temple. A bath in the Holy River.

significant 'other'

There are “them” out there.  This we know.  A wild series of “them”.  Legions of “them”.  Unidentified scores and throngs of “them”.  And who are they?  They are a lot like you.  And me.  They are humans – going through the same routines, same dances, same prayers and celebrations as you and me.

Perception.  We isolate ourselves and hide in the small caves allotted by our fears, our distrust, our acquired kingdoms, our well-financed sense of separation.  These humans we see, we perceive, we visualize… are not only a lot like us, they are intricately connected to us.

This is where the “us and them” gimmick falls apart.  We have two “monarchs” of perception that fight for the throne inside of us – our hearts and our minds.  They mind is allied with ‘ego’, and perceives its kingdom as “owned”, separate, justified.  The mind-ego is the King of Attachment and despite the ludicrousness of the whole affair – after all, we’re not taking this ‘stuff’ with us when we go – the mind views itself and it’s Kingdom as eternal, immortal and untouchable.

Familiar tune?

The Genius of Immortality

And then – the Heart.  The heart does not “fight” for the throne, the heart ascends to the throne when the Mind/ego has finally understood its frailty, its stupidity and its ignorance and has surrendered its position because it can’t hold the house of Mortality together any more.  The Heart is the Silent Partner that awaits in all of us – the center of sweetness.  The innocent part of us that understands its true role as Speck of Dust in the hands of the Immortal.  Out of our control.  Gratitude.  Oneness.  Bliss.

The Heart also understands this foundation-point of “connection” between sentient beings.  We humans – if we look at one another with the eyes of the heart – can immediately recognize our union and unity with all mankind.  We are made of the same ‘stuff’.  The Divine is visible – shining! – in each and every one of us.  This is truly what unites us in its magnificence, its compassion, it’s deep love and understanding.  And we each claim and own this light of the divine in our deepest hearts.

The Throne of Understanding.

It’s there.

It never left.  It is us who left.  And it is us who must find our way back.

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I Was Alone

I Was Alone

I Was Alone
I counted Three
Minutes Before You Ran
Away with Part of Me

Warriors Joined Me

Warriors, They Joined Me
I have this Heart of Gold
Before me, Between me, Inside me
They said it would all Unfold

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I Discovered my Flower
My god, my virgin, my light
Tucked into my belly-button cupboard
Glowing like a Raven in the Night

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Now I Dance the Tribute to a Million Swans.

My life is over, my time is up
My garden blooms only once
in this Heirloom Silver Cup

the Stars are Singing
inside my Wounded Knees
I’ve already Eaten the Leftovers
Leave this Ancient Haunted House

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will You Please …

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This Crying Shoe

So we faltered, afraid
sacrificed wisdom for love
fell down myriad trap-doors
into acres of sand, oceans of pain

And our wounded head, tight as a trumpet
bows down to desolation and greed and the
name “human” has been wiped from our face
by the lies that our tired eyes and trembling lips
have to pronounce over and over to please those that
please us, but the pleasure is painful and the invoice is
beyond our capability.

The Shadow Knows  (but the Sunlight Feels ...)

So we Stop.

And We Ask.

“Why”.

But why is not enough.

Then, before our Hearts take one last desperate Plunge into the
abyss of Recycled Souls, the furnace of Unforgettable Fire …
the desperate “why” that has no voice, no face and no age
crumbles to a pile of humility, Lost Sand, nameless Ink.
Spoiled words on Crushed Velvet… and we begin
where the arrogance ended.

 

We begin with the Lost and Missing Friend.

Who, we’re told … has never departed.

But waits.

Pleasantly, dreamily …

Patiently.

For the Aching Emptiness to turn inward on its own
Cracked Window, it’s own Card-House Calamity.
Its own Secret Entrance-way.

Its own Birth Canal.

Open Window, Aching Soul ...

It’s Krishna blowing on the Sacred Flute.
It’s Jesus booting the Merchants from the Temple.
It’s stars and  galaxies all blinking mascara eyes at
your One Lonesome Trembling Soul.

And “I Am Not Alone” emerges as the
preferred Melody by Ascended Doctors
who Wait in this Delivery Room.

This Long Canal.

This Crying Shoe that Never Really Left Home.

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Eye Passing, Life Catching

The Precious Moments of Life are Slipping By
It is noon, it is midnight, it is an Orange color moving through the Sky
Pets are fed, Rumi is Dead, mother has baked another Perfect Apple Pie
The Dogs on the Sled, the nuns in the Bed: all perform effortlessly as they
look in my Eye … And Life keeps Passing relentlessly by.

The Precious Moments of Life are Moving On
The Trains, Planes and Cargoes are catapulted through the Orange Colors of Dawn
Mystery Speaks; Ghosts in the Closet Squeak; Neighbors on acid Freak …
and Dead Poets, Live Lemmings, Drunk Singers and Retarded Swingers
all Dance in Synchrony, as they look in my Eye
… And Life keeps Passing Relentlessly by.

The Sad & Happy Moments of Life are Departing
Like a Drunken Missionary, embarrassed by his own Farting
They Walk out the Door, They look relaxed and Sore,
They claim to all Know the Score (of Hockey Games to Come)
In God’s Kingdom On The Run; in Buttered Club Med in the Sun
… As Life gazes Lovingly in my Eye and relentlessly passes on By.

The Family Tree is Bearing the Fruit of Ecstasy
Relatives living and dead, lost uncles buried in my head
Aunt Jemima’s bejeweled vagina and Cousin Leroy’s recurring Angina
And the long sullen list of Februaries missed and Octobers’ Toenails Kissed
We’re all waiting in the Shooting Gallery of Love,
for the Silent Soldier with the Pearly Glove
to pull that Trigger – we figure – that will lift us all Above.
… And the tears roll out from the Elephant’s eye
as Rivers flow on … and Life Passes by.

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Text Messages

I can receive Text Messages
while lying in the Sun
They say, “When your Journey’s Over,
Where will you Run?”

People & Dogs in this park
they run in Circles,
the Children they Bark

Nobody’s new on this Friday afternoon;
this has been done for Millions of Years:
Children & Dogs, they run in the park.
They Look.  They Laugh.  They Bark.

They come Here, they Go Home.
They grow Older, they die Alone.

I can receive Text Messages
while lying in the Sun.
They say, “When you Grow Older,
Where will you Run?”

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The Righteousness Of Mountains

The Righteousness of Mountains
Is that they talk only to the Sky
and they pose with God
for Naked Photographs
And they don’t listen
to your whimpering and complaining,
nor do they care that your
Pussy named “Santa” died after
17 years of spiritual vacation
pissing on your living-room floor.

The Righteousness of Mountains
is clearly expressed
by visiting Volcanoes and
Erratic Earthquakes who
Keep the Landlord of Time
on his toes as he harvests
yet another crop of wary
human souls.

The Righteousness of Mountains
outdoes your Suntan once again,
as you confide with Buddha
your uncertainties and pain
about your registered retirement
savings plan and the spiraling
stock market as people you love
die of cancer and your Kraft
Dinner burns on the stove.

The Righteousness of Mountains
echo in the dark
one hollow voice that will save
your soul as your grow older in paradise.
You lost your teeth climbing
your own rooftop, but the Grandeur
of the divine screams louder than
your dentist’s drill, as he removes
the final cavity of blindness
from your third eye.

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