Box Office Slot
emerging
corners
conquests
we seek to rest in yesterday’s sun
we linger and lounge after the race is run
we picked the winners, but losing is fun
arrivals
departures
gateways
we lost all of what we know in a summer’s storm
the hands that cook dinner are the ones that keep us warm
in the midst of old secrets dying, one breath is being born
callings
schedules
seasons
lovers collapse in the arms of freedom captured
crows and car-alarms announce morning’s arrival, enraptured
and the traumatic aging of the day is seasoned with laughter
and we sit and we watch
from our box-office slots
in the morning after
The Subtle
“The Subtle”.
This subject is not commonly addressed.
It is not commonly addressed, because it is not common Knowledge, it is known only by a few.
I talked with a friend the other day, about the depth of conversation. About the comfort-zone we achieve with another person in the context of dialogue. One criteria we used was, how comfortable is a person “in their own skin”. This quality speaks of a person’s relationship with Self. The other parameter was a person’s relationship with Silence, how comfortable they are in entering Silence – again – in the context of dialogue.
So, talking and conversation occupy a whole range of human expression.
At one end of the scale, the “loud-mouth”, the one-way dialogue. Or, the animated, self-centered “fluffy” conversation about the superficialities of life: often a nervous attempt to stave off the dreaded Tide Of Silence – as though Silence was a natural enemy, a cloaked vampire waiting at the door.
On the other end of the scale, people who somehow are at ease, both with Self and Other; people whose thoughtful pauses are conversations unto themselves. People who convey entire manuscripts simply with a raised eyebrow, a soft smile, a deep resonance in their tone-of-voice.
These latter statements speak of people who are not only at peace with “Self”, but who also have a relationship with The Subtle – the invisible and humble counterpart of human existence that dwells in us all. This counterpart has been described in many ways, has been burdened with many labels, name-tags and qualifiers over the ages.
We are not interested in adjectives.
We are interested in living in, celebrating and sharing the felt sense of this Inner Guest, this hidden counterpart. We are interested in enjoying, manifesting, and realizing this felt sense, as a statement of a Life Lived.
When we share with other human beings, when we connect with others, we bring something of quality to the table. Something of the Taste of Silence. The Fragrance of The Guest. The celebration of the Subtle, in its Nameless Name, its Formless Form, and its enduring Beauty.
Of all human endeavors, this is one of the most worthy, the most honorable, the most sweet.
One Drum, Many Dances …
DECLARE.
Declare the sacred space of your Inner Landscape.
UNRAVEL.
Unravel the hidden turning points of Desire.
LUXURIATE.
Luxuriate in the Territory of Peace.
Lost Colors, Dying Leaves
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
Today
Today.
Now.
As I sit & write.
The fine lines of snow collected on the cloud.
Steam of coffee vapor pours from my cup.
Life is Alright because I made it so.
Life tastes good because I followed the innate Recipe.
the Quiet Dream
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.