Our Sun

Oh, how I love this.

I want to be like the sun.

I am not;

 at least not yet.

I constantly catch myself measuring...

comparing...thinking in duality....

either one or the other. 

 It does not make me proud.

"Does not choose the daffodil over the daphne,

does not care what you believe in,

what color your skin,

how colorful your credentials..."

and on and on

No walls or borders or IOU's.

"Does not choose me over you."

". . .bringing very last thing to life.

Bringing life to every last thing."

 

You Deserve

Full stop.

 

In Praise of Impermanence

This is so richly written, I hesitate adding anything but 

my grateful attention to each stanza with admiration and appreciation.

That being said, I shudder at the thought...

"the earth won't be around forever."

Followed by thinking forever is a long, long time.

It will not happen in my lifetime or my grandchildren's

or their grandchildren's.

Some of us have some trouble 

accepting impermanence.

Yet, here it is and here are we.

 

Before The War

Sometimes, Nikita's poetry guts me.

And this one did just that.

Filling my heart with goodness, 

means weaving sorrow into the tapestry 

nestled in close with glory and gratitude.

I wish it wasn't so, yet, there's no escaping it

no matter how diligently I avoid it.

I continue to carry it as it carries me.

Learning to let it flow through me,

to recognize and absorb the painful,

to feel it strong and release it 

as it moves into the river of time is the lesson.

Overcoming the temptation to turn away

without wallowing in despair is the challenge.

I'm grateful you are here.

Together we can navigate 

the wretched and wonderful

paradoxes of our lives.

 

The Book

". . .to be beautiful is also to be brief and simple, 

is to rise up and be glorious, and then vanish."

This is true in the big picture of our universe, isn't it?

It's what we, as humans are meant to be.

How I wish we could all be beautiful before we vanish...

or at least treat each other from that perspective.

"the usual daily foolishness that comes to so little

so far as the real things matter: eternity, the unseen,

the unrecognized, the filling of the heart with goodness..."

A recipe for where to focus our attention, perhaps?

My personal objective is to fill my heart with goodness.

We humans can write the story of our lives...lilies and lichen

and countless splendid entities on earth, cannot.

What if we could at least attempt to write their story for them?

Write the biography of a honey bee, a dandelion, American Columbo,

or any more-than-human being who draws us in...

the Milky Way, Venus, Pluto...

 

Chop Wood, Carry Water

I adore the simplicity of this.

Any tiny task qualifies...

"Every living being devotes their time

to the task of survival."

We are beyond fortunate...for many of us,

survival does not have to be front and center 

on our to-do list.

I deeply appreciate it doesn't have to be.

I want that privilege to belong to everyone.

"From inbreath to exhale,

 from first light to last,

prepare what keeps the fire,

gather what quenches our thirst."

What keeps your fire?

What quenches your thirst?

 

Please Tell Me A Story

Isn't this a treat?

I love the turning of everything inside out and opposite.

"Tell me a story where slivers of mental landscape 

puncture the periphery of deceit and 

shifts in the wind help to balance the 

heavy of unsettled."

Yes, we can puncture the  periphery of deceit!

Let's turn this world around.

"Tell me a story where new only translates 

what the soul knows of ancient."

I'm coming to believe ancient is not the same as old.

Ancient is the invisible and mighty power. . .

the unseen forces working for the good.

It always was and always will be.

The infinite land of soul where magic and 

enchantment become commonplace.

"where grass is fluent in sentient knowledge

and trees are a mandala of prayer."