This

Staring out the open window,

the thought returns-

the urgency grows as it clings and

contains 

the etiology of the question 

remains

Information is given,

not as a gift to behold

rather a burden or curse

a game of hot potato

and what is deemed worse

and while it's tempting

to go for the low hanging

fruit:

past crimes

improprieties 

anecdotal encounters 

that reside

in slime

it has not gone there

                                        -yet 

you must be curious why?

perhaps you won't wonder

forever because

the real truth 

stands up for itself 

while you hide under

cloaks and with shields-

a new narrative 

wrapped inside of 

a subversive spin

through media

mitigating your loss

stealing truth for itself

can only happen for 

so long

for the authentic Truth

resides comfortably

inside of itself

waiting for reality's

light to shine brightly

and illuminate all that

is right 

so as I brace myself

for your next pointed

assault

on character, calculated

printed and broadcast

with tools only ever

intended to harm

I know we will be safe

Seeing the storm for

what it is-

I see the way the trees

bend and give way

withstanding the weight

of what threatens- 

and allows 

This intensity

is temporary and 

the strength of the trees

stands for itself

as do we, rooted

in all that is sacred

because love and kindness heal 

and whilst under this brutal attack

it will remind us what is real

scrutinizing the winds that bloat 

shifting not with a lightness

but the option to float 

because change must happen

now-

                        -and will,

regardless of your plan

I am blown back to thoughts

about the importance of our soul-

What dwells within yours?

A deep restorative breath 

reminds me

truth lives here

in my lungs, home, heart

In my metta practice too

May you have goodness

to fill your soul and abate

May you have healing

to teach the soul to shed hate 

May you have insight

to learn the soul determines fate

Please know, it's never too late

The River

Today I watched the river 

I heard a cadence of consistency-

A pulsing, a rushing acting with

Ardency perhaps and yet no,

It was actually nothing 

like it at all, really 

While the water moved in endless

urgency, it was I who saw it that way,

that was my story I was tossing

out and dressing it up with

Reckoning with this habit,

I noticed with clearer vision-

water approaching a large boulder

And it climbed itself along

its surface in smooth strength

until it couldn't any longer

The dimensions were just not

fitting any further for the flow

to pass over

And the current was forced

to split itself in two

And as I watched this

endless process of

climbing and splitting and sliding

only to 

careen away and fall much further

below

I thought to myself

It's right there, I know

A blissfully simple and yet exquisite bending

Just as there is no individual drop of water

in a river 

There is no I in Self

It is the moon

It is the sun

It is the earth 

And sky blending

the water and us

straight into one

Today,

watching the river,

this was what I saw.

Keeping on

Clinging to "the and" has brought relief

Equanimity, as waves smash the reef

Yet is there something solid to be found?

The landscape shifts and roots re-ground

Poison bleeds into the layers unseen

Breathless pain when things get mean

Certainty does not dwell, in or out

Will not assuage massive doubt

What is being sought, subtly shifting

A landscape in flux, flightless drifting

Keep on moving, forward and know

This is how we are meant to grow

Sense and Solitude

Making sense of what has transpired is like 

Counting drops of liquid in a cup

Life comes and goes, ebbs and flows

I ascribe meaning on top of all of it

And these stories often hinder my truth

What is it I see when I open my eyes?

What is it I see when I close them?

Closing them is key 

Scary as it may be

Sitting with the muck I see myself

an actor with roles in stories and events

makeup and costumes and automatic lines

retorts and expressions memorized, leading me

to more of the same, an endless game

Staying with it, I ride the breath to

a new horizon where True Nature rests

and I see I can come home to myself

Whenever I wish, right here in this 

breath and in this moment

I make a choice to put down attachments

and allow ideas and limiting beliefs to rest

no, this is not some sort of existential test

rather, a lovely invitation to be lovely

and to see the lovely and in the lovely

Scanning the senses with gleeful curiosity 

I hear birds chatter and find melody that delights

I see the clouds' quick moves and feel hopefulness for change

I feel wind like a cosmic breath and know I am connected

I smell trees nutty freshness and sense timeless rooting

I taste the fruit with new lips and miracles abound 

There is so much more, always happening

I can continue to sink deeper into all of it

I will commit to understanding beyond 

that which my intellect can have power over

So that I may evolve and grow new wisdom 

And peace and gratitude will flow creating

space for power between, uplifting the unseen

I will sit in solitude and know

Moldavite Muse

Birds in bushes bristle and burrow

But resist dwelling in sorrow 

Taking flight into tomorrow

Music is a language from beyond

and if our people are using this

with wise intention

we must heed the call of musing

hold the meaning in the moment

with aligned action we must leave

the bush and fly too 

Feel it and know

Be with it and go 

Cardinals and Birthdays and Love

I am thinking of you (and Nanie) on your birthday, Grampie. And I think this has meaning beyond the calendar

Yesterday, on the eve of your 101st birthday I took a walk. I was a bit distracted with follow up for work and not really paying attention to my experience or surroundings. I had finally just put my phone away and decided to mindfully enjoy the rest of my rail trail stroll, when a bird came blazing straight toward my face. It was brilliant and red of course when it veered off into the tree next to me, I confirmed it was a Cardinal. And then I thought of you Grampie. When I see Cardinals I always do. Then, I remembered it was the day before your birthday, and smiled until a rustling grabbed my attention, sort of like Nanie might do, "Ummm, hello? I'm over here?" And there, I spotted your female mate perched nearby, slightly above and more settled in a regal sort of way. Of course. Hi guys! I marinated in this moment full of peace and contentment and a feeling of certainty I was with you both. 

Today, on your birthday, as I dropped Remy off at my sister's house to do her remote learning, I stepped out of the car while still groggy and a red blur whizzed past, waking me up fast.  Yes, it was another male Cardinal, patiently waiting for me to take notice. And so I did. I promptly shared it with Remy, reminding her of his birthday and then Marley and then Meghan too. Once we had all had a glimpse they were off again. Happy Birthday indeed.

Cardinals are not entirely uncommon, I realize this. And yet there is significance here. Nanie loved them. She had pins and mugs and wall hangings and all sorts of other doo-dads. I regret not ever talking to her about where this fondness originated, but after she died it was evident in a more pronounced way and I recall keeping a few things to remember her by with this special symbol. Years later, when it your time to pass Grampie, you were truly so ready. It was hard saying goodbye but also so deeply moving to see a life so complete. You had missed Nanie dearly (I can imagine you saying it just this way) and it was time to move on. 

Grampie, you were pragmatic as hell, and I remember accompanying my dad after to collect the attire for the wake, only to learn that YOU HAD SELECTED IT for yourself much prior. You it hanging just so, and it was specified elsewhere that this would be the outfit. When I saw it, I immediately began crying. Grampie you were well known for your penchant for plaid on plaid and bolo ties. I loved these bolo ties and felt proud of your unique style. On this occasion it was the bolo tie that called out to me. It almost flew to my eyes, much like my Cardinal sightings these last few days. It was a cardinal on your bolo tie. I had NEVER seen this one before. I asked my dad about it and he said "Well that makes sense. My mother loved cardinals." 

Grampie, you are incredible. You dressed up to meet your mate again, just as I had thought...You wanted to make her happy.  

Cardinals are always found in pairs. My grandparents were a pair unbroken through death and I believe to be reunited in peace. I enjoy believing it's them that I spot Cardinals and to be honest, it is always in moments of significance (if I am paying attention and reflective enough to see the connection or the offering of support). 

In fact, I will never forget pulling into the parking lot on the day of my interview for the school I currently serve. The position felt truly special for some reason and I was hopeful I would be found as the right fit. As I drove in with nervousness and hope, a beautiful Cardinal swooped right across my windshield and my nerves lifted away with the birds. I said thank you. And I got the job.  And I said thank you again.

Yesterday and today's sightings are reminders that there is always more. No feeling is final, and ultimately our lives are not final. We live on in energy and gratitude and hope and truth and in faces and characteristics and big moments and challenge and memories and inspiration and change. We cycle through these things and in one another over and over and over. On this day, I am grateful to have come to truly know that to live on this way is to never truly die. Thank you to the Cardinals for these lessons. 

Happy Birthday Grampie. We miss you and Nanie. Thanks for the wisdom. 

on seeing and being

snow on tree branches calls out

clinging yet without extending effort

bouncing with a weight defying measure

and in this simple act of being 

I am seeing my mind

unfettered and free, 

aware of the path and my ability

to return each time attachment

and longing pulls me into ego traps-

the paralysis stumps me 

the seeing mind trumps me

the being mind waits for me

suddenly the smallest of gusts

arrives and clears several branches 

and a silent and serene storm sways 

into morning's first light and as these 

tiny delights awaken me, I think 

"Oh my goodness I get to see this-

Everyone, LOOK!"

and the truth is we all get to see 

we can really see it so much that

these moments of insight tuck right

inside of us forever-

dwelling within, helping to soften

all that feels daunting and terrible

into a more balanced world 

one that invites us to witness

the wonder and the joy

 

please sit and look at the branches

and tell me something different