still walking the path

Some years ago, I became vegan. It happened incrementally over a period of many years, until it became a conscious decision. That decision was a way point along a much longer and larger spiritual journey. I did not realize at the time that it was a choice that would facilitate my capacity to continue deeper on that journey, to walk a path of compassion.

Lately, I have been pondering the spiritual metamorphosis that continues to blossom in ever more amazing ways in my life. 

Even as all the church buildings were shuttered last year, I suspect the ensuing months were very spiritual ones for many folks. With so much on our minds, the constant fear peddling, loss, and our limited in-person contacts, who could help but be introspective, reflective about what actually matters? 

Now, as we attempt to reclaim our freedom and ways of life, the spiritual self cannot be ignored. The spiritual self is integral to all facets of the way forward. Rather than be corralled into an ever-smaller world of fear-driven mindsets, protocols, and division, the spiritual self expands and aspires to wisdom in the broadest spectrum.

It seems we are at one of those classic forks in the road. We stand at a moment of opportunity to reach toward a much more whole and healthy kind of society. 

The spiritual self points to the path of compassion, to love not fear. 

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that didn’t take long

It’s not like anyone could have predicted it, right? The hell with promised stimulus checks when you can go drop bombs on Syria. 

It’s amazing. With the wealth of disturbing problems festering, nay, flourishing, in our country, willful destruction with bombs remains the go-to behavior. Return to normal, eh? Not impressed with the new administration thus far, whoever it actually is, on any counts. I say NO to dropping bombs. 

Stand for peace. Stand for love.

lullaby

The early morning rain sings softly to me. Like a lullaby, it calls me back toward dreamtime, pulling me there with its whispery voice. 

The rain suggests a pause, a delay to the usual commencement of ‘getting things done.’ It reminds me to let go. It reminds me some things are beyond my control, so just let go. 

It is a knowing letting go, an almost rueful letting go that must suddenly remember and admit, after all, what matters. 

The susurrus of the rain cradles me in a hallowed space with all the gentle attentions of a doting parent. I am soothed by this quiet listen to the earth, sky, and air that are my home, suffused with the glow of love and trust found there.

spellbound

magic happened
that tender night
you took me by surprise
and swept me off my feet

high over the dark hills
dancing with the twinkling stars
an evening designed to delight
romanced to perfection

eyes alight with our smiles
coming soul to soul
captured wholly by the fleeting moment
a dream that love could be

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Happily grateful to Eugie’s Causerie for this week’s prompt, “magic.”

meet up

come out of the dark place
let us find each other there
where fear is not the dictator
but love finally rules the land

sign of spring

protected by the throng
of spring’s urgent leaves and wayward branches
the scent of the lilacs
surrounding us
we two almost surprised to be alone
under the moon’s knowing eye

I climb into the swing
my long hair trailing
as I lean way back
thrusting my feet forward
abandoned to the air
laughing softly in the dark

the swing slows
you stand in front of me
smiling
coming near
taking hold of my hands on the ropes
as I come, shivering, to my feet

you press close
until we lean together
into the swing holding us
my breath shallow
feeling all the rush and tumble of me
of this first kiss
intoxicating in the lilacs’ embrace
awash in the mystic moonlight
of the orb’s fond gaze

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Many thanks to Devereaux Frazier and Beth Amanda at Go Dog Go Cafe for the inspiration of today’s writing prompt “mystic moonlight.”

bon voyage #WritePhoto

Photo courtesy of Sue Vincent

She looked up in November and saw they were leaving. The geese flew, silent against the grey sky, headed for their winter home. She lifted her mittened hand and waved.

“Au revoir!” she called out to them. “A bientot!” she never failed to add, counting on seeing their return in the spring. 

She always said something in French to them. After all, she thought whimsically, they were Canadian geese — some of them might speak French. And, indeed, she was rewarded with a couple of fleeting honks.

She continued on her solitary walk, happy to have seen them, but sorry to see them go. She felt a fresh pang of loneliness.

Months later, against the blue skies of a spring day, she spotted the beginning of their return. She loved the way they traveled together, looking out for each other, sharing the journey. She listened to their honking chatter as if they might be calling out her name. 

One hand to her brimming heart, and the other waving broadly, she cried, “Mes amis! Bienvenue!” Her whisper followed, “I missed you.”

In autumn, a day came she never thought she would see.

This time, when the geese called, two smiling faces turned upward together.

She felt her heart fill and overflow, grateful, amazed for this perfect moment. She felt herself soaring in the sky with all the beauty that now filled her world.

She waved to the geese. “Merci! Merci beaucoup!” she called to them. “Thank you from the bottom of my heart!” 

Her companion gently laughed in amusement, pulling her close, waving joyfully.

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Many thanks to Sue Vincent for this week’s #WritePhoto prompt, “Soar.”

there to squander

Born to love and care,
born reaching for it
wailing for it
certain of the mission.
Born knowing that much.

There to squander,
no shortage of supply
like dandelion seeds on the breeze
it goes everywhere
and nowhere too.

See how it changes
the world in little ways,
a smile here
less worry there.
More often, it works in bigger ways,
tilting one’s globe
and painting it colors.

Occasionally given away only to find
it just sits
undisturbed, unopened, unseen
or deliberately cast away.
Who could have so much
they would want no more?
Who could spurn the very breath of life?

No matter.

Born to love and care.
Keep lavishing that currency
near and far.
There is more than can be spent.

Here you go, please have some of mine,
there’s more where that came from.

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getting lost

I would be lost
in that place
where we meet
where all of possibility shows itself,
trembles with anticipated joy,
rests untroubled by anxious dreams.

I am lost
in that place
under the star-strewn embrace,
floating on the wind,
snaking like a vine wrapped around 
the branches of a singing tree.

Waiting,
knowing that one could just trip and tumble
into that abyss
of sublime lostness.
Contemplating the circular path
and the seemingly empty space inside.

a whole new kind of garden

Minneapolis mayor Jacob Frey gets credit for showing up and engaging with the protestors there. He’s all about police reform, just like we’ve been hearing for years all over the country. 

When asked, however, he indicated that he would not support fully defunding the department at the epicenter of the current unrest. That response was met with immediate scorn from the gathering of protestors surrounding him. They jeered him from the event, the crowd parting for his shamed departure.

Calls for reform, at this point nothing more than a tired rejoinder, are just not enough.

And if you weren’t convinced that reform is not enough, have a moment to consider the members of the Buffalo, New York emergency response team — all of whom resigned their roles on that team (though not their jobs) in solidarity with the two now charged with felonious assault on a 75-year old protestor. They and others assembled to cheer those two after their release. Do the citizens of Buffalo feel safer now?

What is this group of people really about? They can avert their eyes and walk past a bleeding old man laying on the ground after members of their own delivered blows to him, but they’ll show up enthusiastically in a way that ultimately communicates the notion that laying blows on a 75-year old non-violent protestor is somehow justified in their world.

It is not enough to talk simple reform. All of the various attempts at reform still led to this day.

Defunding these departments and diverting the monies to positive, supportive development in the communities makes all the sense in the world. After watching so much police violence now and through the years, and considering some of the toxic police union rhetoric, fully defunding does not sound unreasonable.

As in disband. Let ‘em all go. Phase our current departments out, and start over with a whole new approach. 

We wouldn’t even call our new groups ‘police’ or use the militarized moniker ‘officers’ — or, for that matter, captains, sergeants, units, etc. Forget all that military stuff, including the weaponry.

No, I’m not sure what we’d call them but their objective would be laser focused on peace and safety for the people. They would be trusted community partners, not an opposing, militarized force acting as the muscle of the government and the privileged. They would value life and quality of life over property. 

It will require a lot of rethinking.

It is something that needs to be fleshed out in a community process. One that ought to get started in communities across the nation.

Let’s start a whole new kind of garden. Let’s do it permaculture style – sustainable, supporting life, resilient, caring, and fair.