Dark Rush

There are souls whose origin
is from the dark,
empty corners
of darkness it’s self.

Coming into this world
walking
breathing
sitting next to you
in your place of work
on a park bench
even your places
of worship.

These dark shadows
from darkness
like black holes
suck life
light
and purpose
from any living
being
which comes
close to them -
while you
sit transfixed
mesmerized
by their words
thoughts
and their caresses
of your being.

They come into
this world
memory
of who
and
what they are
all lost
erased
as if it never was.

Were you
to see one of these dark ones
there would be nothing
strange or unusual -
for all your senses
your perceptions
and intuitions
would tell you
they are as
any of you
loving
kind and
caring
wishing only
for your well being.

If you had eyes
to see into their
soul
you would
see the dark
parasitic spirit
poised ready
to seize your
most precious life
wrenching it
your grasp.

Even with this sight
to see -
they, like a two headed
snake, would fill you
with fascination
and curiosity -
enticing you always
to watch
to come closer -
but seeing,
you would stop
never letting them close
never inviting
them into your bed.

ah but,
only if you
had the sight
you would be saved
from the fate
which surely now
awaits you.

And for these dark souls
their greatest rush
and joy in life is
death.

Death is the greatest rush in life
for only then
do they go back to
the darkness from
whence they came -
back to the darkness
to finally be home
to finally find their
belonging.

Sunrise on a Cloudy Day

I sat watching fire spread across the sky, as the sun began its trek across a sky swarming; filled with white, gray and nearly black tumultuous clouds bursting into a kaleidoscopic dance of iridescent flames. I sat and watched, silently remembering so many prayerful wishes, hoping to share just one of these precious moments with another. Yet, no matter with whom I found myself or how many times I sat with them watching the display unfold, I always felt so isolated and alone.

Today, I sat and watched the sunrise, and I knew perhaps for the first time, this is a very personal and private moment; an intimate touching and comingling between the essence of my being and the divine. I knew that I was not, nor ever was alone, the divine feminine was always there sitting close beside me, I in her embrace, sharing in all the awe and wonder of this eternal moment poking holes in time.

Beauty

... Beauty is nothing but
the beginning of terror, that we are still able to bear,
and we revere it so, because it calmly disdains
to destroy us.

- Rainer Maria Rilke from the Duino Elegies

Discerning Nows

I find myself firmly
planted between
what was and what I am
grappling feverishly with
all I believe lies
in what will be.

Panic stricken thoughts
desperate attempts to flee
Langoliers
gobbling up
devouring
remnants of a once
living world.

While Rose’s spring
fragrance rots consumed
as fiery sunsets
become frozen gray
and frosted grass
cuts like glass shards
under naked feet

Today’s dawn
unfolds revealing
Van Gough’s
Starry Night
so stark and real

But, we all came as children
riding the crest of time
future laying
down before us
past falling away
behind

Yes, they came as children
golden shore calling
opportunistic waves washing over
with each attempted
grasp

An endless Swim upstream
to find the sea
blinded by desire
paralyzed with fear
lost in illusion of need

Hope my parched desert
which will never taste
the rain
scorched, burnt
nothing left to bloom

All but delusions
mist filled forests
cloaking
cool mountain streams
flowered meadows
lush after warm
spring rain

Birds sing
melodious
sonnets
caressing my heart
with unconditional love

Crest of life
of time
forever
the only
place I have
ever been

Ever now
no then nor when
nor loss
nor win

I ride this the
wave of now
cross eternities brow

CPU and a Rose

“Suddenly I am seeing inside one of the homes of the common people. Everything is simple. Everything has its place. There is a sense of order to everything. I am able to discern, by watching the people, that they perceive their homes to be “alive.” The wood beams, the stone walls, and the hearth seem to hold consciousness or presence for them. For these people everything is alive; the entire island is alive, every blade of grass, every pebble, every drop of drew. The island is a conscious, sentient being. Whatever this presence is seems to dwell at the heart, at the very center of their lives as a people. I find myself feeling a deep longing to know such a sense of profound connection, relatedness, order, and harmony. This quality is strangely familiar to me but foreign to the reality of my life as I know it. I realize I have been yearning for this feeling my whole life.”

(from “The Spiral of Memory and Belonging” by Frank MacEowen)



Sometimes I run across something I read which speaks of a place or time familiar and yet foreign at once, such as the above paragraph in Frank MacEowen’s book. I can only imagine what it must have felt like to actually experience this vision directly. The impact of just reading it was a moving experience on its own. I know and have known this yearning he speaks of for as long as I can remember and had found it so hard to articulate.
I have always felt the world (and everything in it) to be alive and otherworldly, while simultaneously feeling what my senses and reason said it was. I felt these all to be true, even though they were all in strong contradiction to each other. The aliveness extends from nature with her forests, plants, streams and stones to buildings, machines and computers.
While many may feel a spiritual connection to nature, I wonder how many also feel the same type of connection to their computers, furniture or tools? When I am creating software applications, it is not just about logically organizing computer code, it is also about feeling the code in the language I am programming in, while at the same time seeing and feeling the vision of the final application. It takes on a life of its own, drawing me into its dance. I rarely if ever know where or how it will go; it just happens and grows on its own. Like planting a seed, which take in the nourishment it needs and becomes the life form it was destined to be.
Computers, technology even our modes of transportation are far from simple. Where is the simplicity in the CPU of my laptop? Where is the simplicity under the hood of my car? Have you really looked in the engine compartment of a newer model car and seen all the myriad of hoses and wires?
I can even ask where is the simplicity in the biology of a rose bush? The millions of cells with their Nuclei, vacuoles, chloroplasts, mitochondria and many more categorized parts; each with its own language of expression and volumes of scientific studies to define what it is. With our specialized sciences with names such as Proteomics, Metabolomics, Microbiology and Genetics, just to name a few; we have seemly limitless categorizations with which to understand and enhance our interaction with other life forms.
Perhaps the simplicity is not in the things themselves but, is instead in my or our relationship to them and how many of these relationships there are. There are simply too many things, so much so that one rarely has the time to interact or appreciate any of them. We live in a time of extreme consumerism, where something as simple and timeless as pot to cook in is no longer just a matter of going to get the pot but, may even seem to require a major research project to review the hundreds or maybe even thousands of different types and brands of pots to find the one, best pot. This is not counting all the specialized utensils and accessories we are being told we need to cook with that one best pot. Then there is always the question of is there going to be a better one next year which will require, of course, the replacement of our one best pot and ALL the best pot accessories.
The problem is perhaps not the choices themselves but, the belief that we MUST make them, because our own self worth and reason for existence is dependent upon the choices we make for our STUFF. That to continue to have a meaningful life we need to constantly be juggling our stuff to create the meaning.
We have become buried under hundreds or thousands of things, rather than having meaningful relationships to a few selected living beings, like friends that we work with. These beings could extremely complex either internally or by way of our interaction with them but, our relationship is one of friendship, reverence and connectedness.

So what is your relationship to your pot, your car or computer? What is your relationship to our forests, community and the earth its self? Are even your friends just another addition to your stuff?

I know in my case I need some serious dumpsters for my life cleaning.

Flowers and a Flute

Woulda-Coulda-Shoulda

by Shel Silverstein

All the Woulda-Coulda-Shouldas
Layin' in the sun
Talkin' 'bout the things
They woulda-Coulda-Shoulda done...
But those Woulda-Coulda-Shouldas
All ran away and hid --
From one little did.

Wisdom of Zarathud

"Grasshopper always Wrong in argument with chicken. - Book of Chan"

Before he became a hermit, Zarathud was a young Priest, and took great delight in making fools of his opponents in front of his followers.

One day Zarathud took his students to a pleasant pasture and there he confronted The Sacred Chao while She was contentedly grazing.

"Tell me, you dumb beast," demanded the Priest in his commanding voice, "Why don't you do something worthwhile. What is your Purpose in Life, anyway?"

Munching the tasty grass, The Sacred Chao replied "MU."[1]

Upon hearing this, absolutely nobody was enlightened. Primarily because nobody could understand Chinese.

[edit] Notes
? "MU" is the Chinese Ideogram for NO-THING.

Friend

A Hidden Place
Each of us has a hidden place
Somewhere deep within ourselves; a place where we go to get away,
To think things through, to be alone, to be ourselves.
This unique place, where we confront our deepest feelings,
Becomes a storehouse of all our hopes, all our needs, all our dreams,
And even our unspoken fears.
It encompasses the essence of who we are and what we want to be.
But now and then, whether by chance or design,
Someone discovers a way into that place we thought was ours alone.
And we allow that person to see, to feel and to share all the reason,
all the uncertainty and all the emotion we've stored up there.
That person adds new perspective to our hidden realm,
Then quietly settles down in his own corner of our special place,
Where a bit of who they are will stay forever.
And we call that person a

FRIEND

~author unknown~

What kind of a Flower are You?

I am a Snapdragon What Flower Are You?

"Mischief is your middle name, but your first is friend. You are quite the prankster that loves to make other people laugh."