The White Dove

The White Dove

split seams

it seems

that through all the day-drops
and dreams

nothing is quite the way it seems

but through the brocolli and rolled oats it steams

nutrition of life, vitamins of beans

the footprints of kings

the carriages of queens

roll on by

on this road-way of dreams

nothing at all

is quite like it seems

The Change into Self

I was speaking with someone and the topic of selfishness came up.

So I have a few things that have rambled through my head on this particular subject, and I wanted to jot them down, in case there was anyone who had an interest. Also because sometimes when you are too full, one needs to empty the glass so it can be cleaned and made useful for some other draught.

Being “selfish” is a big subject, as the self naturally tends to want to know itself. In the usual sense we have crammed the self with information and goods, till really it cannot stand alone as it naturally is, for it has so many attachments, like some massive octopus with all these suckers attached to its arms. Give me, give me, give me, has become the human beings main motto.

Remembrance in the Naked Kingdom

This is Remembrance Day.

Sometimes called Armistice, this day commemorates the War Dead.

Through my progression of life, it has meant different things. As a child, it was simply a holiday from school; perhaps a day imbued with ritual dour parades and gatherings in the auditorium – something we all fidgeted and complained through, waiting impatiently for that half-day of freedom that followed.

Later in my adult life, it was a creative photo-op, a chance to watch human expression, a chance to take in the curious and fantastic actors in the Human Movie.

Now I watch it with different eyes. Now, that means – in a literal sense – that my body cells have been largely replaced over the past year, and indeed, these eyes are different eyes. But this also means that my perceptions, values, realities, neuronal network, has all transformed, evolved, shifted. I see and feel, not only the pulse, the longing, the full and empty cups inside of me, but the same in all the humans around me.

The Science of Silence

It’s a Noisy World.

As one ages, one gets grumpier. Ear-plugs become a mandatory accessory. Shopping malls are to be avoided, and quiet walks in the forest become more and more digestible. In the Circus of Humanity, there are few acts that fill the house, that water the heart, that nourish the tender and frail Inner Plant of You.

I watch a coffee-shop client thru the steamy rainy November window. Cigarette smoke issues thoughtfully out of her mouth, between savored gulps of that bitter-sweet Americano. In the background, city buses and cars plough through the watery streets. I remember my years as a smoker, how cigarettes were my meditation, medication, relaxation. The Smoke of the Sacred Breath: what a pleasure to let go to the reassuring promise of nicotine and tar.

The Moon In Cancer

I am in Caregiver Mode.

Someone close to me was recently diagnosed with cancer.

This has stirred up a lot of things. The life that we live is largely routine. Even the ways we try to get deeper, more ‘inside’, more ‘connected’, becomes a routine. Then suddenly something knocks on our door. A wake-up call. These things happen.

life itself

The ways the human spirit moves, is a flag in the wind. Tibetan prayer flags high on the forbidden plateau. Proud national flags in gardens of guns and roses. Tattered artistic flags with beautiful threads of gold and silver, arcing gently in soft winds.

Flags in sunset, flags in sunrise. Flags with curious symbols; flags with ears and eyes. Flags freshly born; flags ready to die; flags at half-mast, full-mast… flags that reach for, and long for the sky.