Wednesday, 31 August 2011
If you close your eyes and look for it.
Try it now. Let your eyelids close.
Relax your eyebrows, your cheekbones.
Breathe deeply and slowly. Give it time,
And you will find the whiteness.
Sometimes it appears as a tunnel of light,
Sometimes just a vastness in all directions.
Feel yourself now, moving towards it. As your
Breathing deepens, move closer to the light.
Feel your heart grow lighter as you move
Towards it. Feel the first tugs of something
Like joy at the edges of your being.
Infinite white light. Feel its embrace.
There is a reality bigger than the one
We walk every day.
Tuesday, 30 August 2011
Crisp and fresh, bright sun, filtering dappled
Through trees, as I drive. Glimpses
Of shining sea in the distance.
If this was not an ORDINARY day,
If I were on holiday, not working,
I’d stop. Take a picture.
Capture the moment.
“Capture” the moment to look back at later,
And say “Look – how beautiful it was.
How special”. And yet.
The morning is here.
Here, if I capture it…. or not,
Acknowledge it….. or not.
It’s crisp. And fresh. Beautiful.
August. Autumn morning.
Monday, 29 August 2011
Not separate from the wind. Wind touches every part
Of this tight drum of skin containing me. Feel it now.
Not standing alone. My brow, my cheek, my hand, all
Touched by this wind. Blowing today, blowing just for me.
Coaxing me to hear: “NOT apart. Not separate.
Part of everything.” Blowing around, and through,
Wind does what it does. Leaves shake, in
Frantic flurries. I sit, eyes closed, and feel.
Touched and blown, tossed and swayed.
Sunday, 28 August 2011
Cannot be held together by strength of will.
Shoulders, which are not wide enough to carry
What needs to be carried. These tears arriving,
And arriving. Helpless now; curled up like a small child,
Holding myself and waiting. “I said to my
Soul, be still and wait”. Searching inside
for the Great Blue Roar. Where is the
Power and the glory? Heart sore.
Death before rebirth.
I believe there will be a rising again. The ashes of
This great destruction a cradle for new life.
These tears needed, to water the sleeping seed.
Water and ash mingling to nourish the germination.
What will emerge from the seed invisible
Known only later, on reflection. The seed
Does not TRY to germinate. It happens. Surrender
To these endings. Trust these tears. Accept
This helplessness. And when you ask “Who will catch me when I fall?”
The answer arrives;“Be still and wait”.
"I said to my soul , be still and wait" is from TS Elliot's Four Quartets.
Saturday, 27 August 2011
Thursday, 25 August 2011
And tapping his beak against the glass,
Trying to attract my attention.
Flap, tap, flap; catching the edge
Of my awareness; whispering
Through the keyhole "psst psst psst".
Reminding me that I've forgotten
To worry. Anxiety rises as I wonder
What it is I've forgotten to worry about.
The worry bird is black, beady eyed.
Stares through the glass and flaps
And flutters his black black wings.
Peck, peck, peck, the rythmic tap
Of his sharp beak on the glass.
He's not going to leave unheard.
I slide open the glass and shoo him,
Clap my hands to scare him off.
Worry bird, you have no purpose,
I don't want you here, peering in,
Pecking and flapping and
Trying to scare me.
I take an old sheet and throw it
Over you. You struggle and flap
As I wrap the sheet tight.
I wonder where I can put you
To keep you out of sight,
Keep you out of mind.
If I kill you, I'll never forget you,
You'll haunt me night and day.
Peck and flap in my head for ever.
Here's what I'll do: I'll bring you in,
Unwrap you gently and let you loose.
See if maybe we can become friends.
I'm scared of your pecky beak,
Scared of your flappy wings. More
Scared of you really than I knew.
You look at me sideways, out of that
Yellow, staring eye. You're hungry for
Worries, that's why you peck and peck.
Maybe I can feed you my worries
One by one, bit by bit. Watch
As you swallow them down.
Then, when you're sated, I'll
Open the window; put you on the cill.
Watch you stretch your black wings wide.
Take off and flap - flap - flap
Get further and smaller in the sky
Taking my worries off with you.
Acrylic paint on paper
Pride of blue lions.
A grassy plain, a few trees.
Sun, hanging in the sky.
Train pulls into a small station,
Wooden buildings, peasant world.
A city in Eastern Europe.
A ruined city in Tibet.
Tears in the old lady’s eyes:
“Why do they destroy everything?”
Stands staring across the plain,
To where the blue lions stand.
Blue lions standing still,
Staring back towards us. Heads
Motionless, eyes locked.
Acrylic paint on paper
See around me, people in their flocks,
Wheeling and swooping in formation,
Knowing their place in the order.
Here am I, a bird of a different feather.
Wings outstretched, riding the currents,
Sometimes dropping like a stone.
Wide reach, long flight, back to that
Big nest built on the mountain top.
My chicks waiting to be fed.
Swooping and dipping, rising and falling,
Wondering how it feels; to know your
Place in the order of things; to fly
Connected, clear that your flock is
Always around you, your place is known.
Silver threads, invisible in the air.
Lone bird. Riding the winds. Earth,
Wind, sky, nest. Seeking to
Inhabit a wide open world.