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.

Heart

We talk about the “heart”.

Do we know what this place is;  do we know this feeling well enough to call it our home?

When I grew up, we were not instructed in the understanding of this.  The only “heart” we knew was the embarrassing crimson blob we’d see on Valentine’s cards from adoring classmates, once a year.   Then, of course, the word was used carefully, guardedly, in relation to romance and those fleeting bottle-of-wine-in-the-meadow moments that often turn into jaded and forgotten memories.

And “heart”, for most of us, became an unknown item on an illegible menu in a cafe whose doors were closed to business.

Rain

This Feeling

has been described as “Rain”.

There is a sense of accumulation
in who we are, what we move with,
breathe with,
carry …
on a Daily Basis.

Humans: what we gather
and hang onto, is not usually
the good, the clean, the nourishing.
It is more often the toxic, the negating,
the poisons.

The Un-Resolved, and Never-Removed.

The Place of Stillness

Life Moves.

So do We.

Constantly.

Outer.  Inner. Circles. Storms. Motion, commotion.

Location, place, thing, river, wind, dust.  Nothing stays still.

Our mind engages. In all this movement.  And man, in his blurry and distorted wisdom, seeks not only to “keep up” with this circus, but to amp it up further, to the point of madness.

Cell phones bleeping and blopping. Car horns.  Animated TV commercials playing on taxi hub-caps. The blind leading the blind in a dance of Faster, Further, More, Louder, Longer, Stranger.  Television content that says Nothing in ten thousand different ways.  We’re a kid in a candy-store of a million choices, all of them bad for our health, all of them promising Immediate Sensory Enlightenment.

the Holiday Home

the Holiday Home :
a place I go to Alone.

the River Inside :
a place I can Ride, Hide, Glide, Confide

the Deeper in Me :
so comfortable, easy, simple, Free!

the SunLight in You :
or a reflection of me, looking right through?

The Bird flies in Space :
wingless wonders! we’re all borne by Grace

The City of Love :
a place we inhabit, our Hand in the Glove

The Holiday Home :
a place of Comfort! Where else can we Roam?

A Million Bubbles Bursting

There is a word
called “Ease”.

This word slips from our lips like a delicious cookie, a snore on a picnic blue sky day.

We have known Little Parcels of this.  How?

Often brought about by Illegal Substances, unexpected Lottery Prizes, rewards of childrens’ report cards, corporate promotions, costly Back Massages.

Transformation

Life, it seems, is about Changes.

There is something of Nature in this; we all know that Change is about – constantly, irrevocably.  The elements, the seasons, the weather, the ants underfoot and the galaxies above – all seem involved in a chaotic, relentless, syncopated, orchestrated construction and de-construction of “Reality”.

And we humans strive to stay the same.

Our houses, our jobs, our relationships, our day-to-day routines offer the coziness of a Comfort Zone that we can bed down in, that we can count on, that we can … uh …. lose ourselves in, become unconscious in, fall asleep in.

Is  there anything wrong with that?

The Sky begs the bird to fly.  Is there anything wrong with that?

The nest begs the bird to stay.  Is there anything wrong with that?

Of course, once the nest is empty, the bird goes.  Is there anything wrong with that?