Dreams, Poetry, Reflections

Waking Up…

I feel the words approaching

rising up from deep within…

But they are nothing more than gibberish,

sounds that don’t make any sense…

There is no structure, no meaning,

no context or content;

Just random sounds of anguish

laced with lullabyes of love…

***     ***     ***

I woke this morning from a dream where I was being “taught” to wake an’Other, but nothing there was what it seems, and I was so confused… led astray…  misconstruing what should have been obvious, but was, instead, obtuse…

“You cannot wake them up directly,” I was told, for they do not understand.  “You may sound the same words, but you do not speak the same language.”

“You cannot touch them to awaken, for you will only startle them, and fear will block the process, and prevent you from connecting.”

“How then can I wake them,” I thought to ask, “if I cannot speak or touch?”

“Show them…,” came a sigh, blowing gently past my ear.

“Each One is unique, their response will be distinct.  But you must find the picture that most appeals, one for each…”

And so a slide show began playing in my brain, all unrelated images, and none appearing to have anything at all to do with wakening…

“How convoluted and confusing is all of this?,” I asked myself.  “How pointless and time consuming?  How can I possibly know which images will one day lead to somewhere useful?”

Frustration settled in, a rigid barrier to learning.  As I tried to breathe it out, I felt my Shilo start to stir.  He climbed atop my chest and settled on my heart, his purr a welcome respite from the lesson I wouldn’t learn…

He licked my face, and nipped my nose, beginning our morning battle, when he determines it’s time to wake, and I choose not to join him…

Finally I pushed him off, surrendering again, preparing to rise and greet the day, and leave the dream behind…

But as my eyes opened to greet the rising sun, they swept past the frozen clock.  And it was only then I realized I didn’t have to yet get up…

“You jerk!,” I snorted at my cat, annoyed and yet relieved.  “I don’t have to get up now; I’ve got 40 minutes left!”

And shifting to a more comfortable position, I closed my eyes, relaxed.  Grateful for the extra time, I drifted off again.  And somewhere, in a distant space, I felt him jump into his window seat, content now just to wait…

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Flashback..., Poetry, Reflections

A Timely Reminder…

I don’t usually have a lot of good things to say about social media, but every once in a while Facebook surprises me with a timely reminder.  This is one of those “share a memory” things, when Facebook suggests you re-post something from your past.  This one posted 3 years ago on this date, before I had started this blog.  I was surprised to see it and read it today, so I thought I’d share it here, in a more “appropriate” medium…

Sitting here in the dark, listening to music and the rain, cuddling with my cat, feeling deeply grateful that my roommate is home safe and well, and that my grandson is feeling better…

Pondering the sheer perfection of this moment, knowing I am alive and surrounded by so much that is magical, mysterious, and moving…

And these words snuck up on me, without warning. They felt significant, though, enough so that I thought I should share…

If you feel like reading them all, of course… lol

In the Darkness, I sense a Light…
It shines without blinding,
Reveals without harshness,
Guides without demanding…

In the Light, I seek the Fire…
That warms without burning,
Comforts without suffocating,
Spreads without overwhelming…

In the Fire, I discover a Heart…
And know that it loves without coercion
Gives without expectation,
Honors without judgment…

In the Rain, I hear a Voice…
Speaking gently of the light,
Speaking warmly of the fire,
Speaking softly from the heart…

“I love you…
“Now, and forever…
“Just be your Self…”

“Be the Light.”

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Poetry, Reflections

Untethered…

Sitting in the sunshine, frozen to my core

Forgetting what it felt like,

to ever feel warm…

I know that heat exists, out there beyond my self

Passion, hope and rage

are fueling violence and change…

But here where I am sitting, only numbness can survive

All else driven out now

by the whims of a consumed mind…

And temperature is just a gauge, another useless measure

Something used to judge and placate

an arbitrary line between the pain and pleasure…

Personification, another useless gesture, implying boundaries non-existent

False directives, planned conflict

attempts to impose imaginary structure…

But why even bother, why waste your energy?

If everything is lost

can anything get “better”?

I ponder the “need” to carry on, to see this to the end

I balk at taking final steps

I wonder about the when…?

For Time itself is failing now, buckling under the strain

Of too many misguided intentions

and too much wisdom slain…

So I’m sitting in the sunshine, frozen to my core

Forgetting what it felt like

to ever feel warm…

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Poetry, Reflections, Visions

“Convergence…” (From the Book of Other)

I offer this post to Sha’Tara, in explanation, as an example of, the kinds of entries I might discover in the Book of Other.  I found it in my draft folder here, where there are currently some 22 unpublished posts.  It was “dated” June of last year, a useful bit of information made possible by the medium itself…

But, like so many such entries, I don’t “remember” writing it, though I clearly recognize it as “mine.”  The word choice, metaphors, the rhythym itself, all sound like “me,” but the memory of writing it is gone.  The tone, itself – light-hearted and whimsical – sounds like a different “me” entirely, which it most likely was.  I was clearly reaching out across the timelines, attempting to communicate with my Others, and I was describing the same Center Space as in my previous post.  The Crossroads is another frequent metaphor for describing the place, one favored by a different version of self…

And it is encounters like this that explain why the “powers that be” chose to label me schizophrenic in the first place. Lol!  And perhaps they were not wrong, after all…

 

Standing at the crossroads

waiting…

not expecting or anticipating…

but waiting nonetheless.

And here they come, like happy children

skipping down the paths toward me…

ideas…

thoughts and feelings gathering here…

to be incorporated into the family tree.

They come in waves, and crowded rushes

and some arrive individually…

all related…

and connected to the Whole that is Me.

Are they merely thoughts and feelings?

Transitory and epheme?

Or something more compelling?

Real…

Comprising parts of me…?

The cells of my body

speaking to me…

of individuality…

of interconnectivity and healing…

Much work left to do here,

before we are free to leave.

Gathering the missing pieces

memories…

of things not yet in play…

Converging in this place of peace…

Emerging in every breath I take.

And so I speak, and pay no heed

to whether or not

anyone else is even listening.

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Poetry, Reflections

“Murky Vision…”

I open my eyes wide

but I cannot see

through the miasma surrounding me.

It is dark here today –

corrupt and polluted –

so that only hazy outlines stand out from the gloom…

Like silt stirred up from watery depths

to obscure what lies beneath

while sun reflects off surface waves quite brilliantly…

For One who seeks a clearer path

there is none now to see

for murky is the way of chaos

and vision fails spectacularly…

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Poetry, Reflections

Immobilized…

I stand alone, within a crowd

immobilized.

Calming breaths, burrowing roots

still my restless self.

Every ounce of fortitude

every spark of will

every bit of discipline

required to rein Me in…

Now a statue, not stone, but flesh

my focus turns without.

To see the world pass me by

unmoved by my existence.

In every face, despair

In every voice, fear

In every life that passes

a story of distress.

For chaos rules the world today

and wicked winds of change.

Perhaps, if I can hold my ground,

my life would feel more sane…

But even here, unmoving,

reality seeks its claim…

Lightning strikes me from above,

attacks quite unanticipated.

Raging cyclones chip away

at balance, strength, and certainty.

And flocks of birds fly overhead,

to defecate quite purposely…

Yet here I stand, immobolized,

completely unprovoking…

So how am I to name this space?

What judgment comes to mind?

How can I explain this?

Or justify my time?

Is standing still the least destructive

for me and those nearby?

Or should I slip into the flow

let chaos be my guide?

Hanging on or letting go,

the difference is extreme.

So, caught between the consequences

Immobile I remain.

 

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Poetry, Reflections, Visions

Tangled threads…

Sitting at the Loom of Fate,

weaving a destiny I choose to create,

I notice…

Old threads are coming loose, fraying,

unravelling the past I built.

I reach over, hoping to minimize the loss

but the holes are already forming

the damage done by time, man or moth.

Or all of the above…

So I refocus on today, and what’s ahead,

the pattern sweet and true,

only to discover knots in both the red thread and the blue.

Sighing deeply, frustration raging,

I calm my spirit, and focus my mind.

“I can fix this,” I tell myself,

“just take it one thread at a time.”

And so begins the process of detangling tiny threads,

ever so gently teasing the knots apart,

so as not to weaken them.

But my eyes grow tired with the task,

and my hands begin to cramp…

I wonder if I can weave them in,

without ruining the final product.

“That would be cheating,” I tell myself,

“and lazy, too…

“Is that how you want the future to remember you?”

So I sit back to take a break

and another thought occurs…

“What happens if I just walk away?

“Right now, without delay?

“Will anyone notice?  Does anyone care,

“if I never finish weaving my own fate?”

With the past unravelling,

and the future unwoven,

now might be the perfect time to quit.

Let obscurity claim my name,

and simply clean my slate.

And I will never have existed,

apart from All-That-Is;

I will not have lived or died

or suffered, endured, triumphed or lost.

Ever…

once the remnants have dissolved.

Hmm…

So tempting is that thought…

I turn back to my tangled threads

as I contemplate the cost…

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