IT USED TO BE

Once upon a time ago, I was looking for you.

Hungry, I ran here and there like a beggar, yearning for someone or something to fill my empty bowl.

The bowl is gone now. How could something so small contain you?

Now you fill me, spilling out, flooding my world.

Like the simple chair in the shade of the tree. I know every curve and bend and the spiky palm fronds too.

Where you end and I begin, I can not say.

It used to be, I thought I was apart from you.

Now, we are the same.

THE MOON

The moon is calling out to me again.

Sitting under her soft, hazy, glow, she whispers my name.

I hear her gentle voice inside, as the sound of my heart, beating rhythmically, like a drum.

Thoughts fall away, while I listen and the beat grows stronger still.

I know what she wants, this crazy moon-beat of mine; she wants me to gaze on her, knowing I am seeing myself.

In her, I see my own light, tonight soft and mellow, at other times, radiant and magical.

What a crazy, mixed up world this is, that the moon speaks to me so.

And I, fool that I am, take the time to listen.

SITTING TRUE

The blue-gray heron is here again. Flying in with her wobbly-legged offspring, she watches over her child, making sure the two sit together in stillness at the top of the flaming poinciana tree. They are waiting for the one splashing and rhythmically working her way up and down the length of the pool, to leave. Then they will hop down and dip their beaks in the water.

Watching, I know they feel my legs kicking and splashing. They know the steady flow of breath in and out and the way the water lifts and softens the intense heat of the day. I also know the exact moment they will fly down and begin dipping, even with my back turned as I leave to go, I know.

I know because we are the same. Entering inside each small, bony frame I feel little hearts beating. I am looking out through sharp eyes and am silently waiting to glide down and take my first sip.

We are the same you and I.

I SEE YOU

I see you. I see pain and suffering reflected in your eyes. It sits, as a dark mass weighing on your shoulders and circling your waist like a metal belt.

Trying to hide this from the world, you smile covering anguish with long shrouds.

But I see you.

For just a moment, put down the burden of 'me' and 'mine' and the thousand lies you tell yourself.

For just a moment throw your head back, laugh and dive into the ocean of the Self.

If you do, all sorrows will leave and you will know yourself as I see you.

I see you.

I see Radiant Light.

LIVING AS LIGHT

This morning, watching the lilac pink clouds fill the sky, I feel them filling me. They come into clear view as the early morning light begins to reveal itself.

Everything is contained in the light, fully present and alive. The birds are singing, the shadows under the trees still dark and mysterious, and a blanket of profound silence runs through and offers up every sight and sound.

This is how we are. We contain the mysteries. We are the darkness and the light, waiting to be claimed, waiting to be acknowledged.

In the union of the opposites we meet the face of God. He and She have been within us all along, crying out to be held.

Give up your wanderings and find your own Self, silently waiting for the fullness of your embrace.

THE IDEA OF TRANSFORMATION

The idea of transformation isn't exactly correct. How can transformation take place when there is no one that needs transforming? Living below the surface of ordinary consciousness is all that is required.

We reach for a thousand and one distractions, too busy by far to drop into an ever present current which sustains, supports and envelops our very being.

Once we begin to swim in THAT awareness, we awaken to the Truth that we were always THAT.

It is what we are.

DAISIES AND THE MOON

If I could paint only one more picture,
I would cover a canvas with red, yellow and orange.
Colours of the flames burning in the heart.

Then, with a wide brush,
I would cover those tongues with grey and black.

Feeling shrouded from you,
I would cry out.
Until one day, you whisper the secret in my ear:

"I AM the soot, and the smoke,
And the dark places too.
Don't be fooled by what you think you see.
And by what you think you don't see.
There is always only the One."

Hearing this,
I would sit again by my canvas,
And paint daisies at night,
Or the moon in shadow,
And take great delight in my masterpiece,
Asking others,

"Look, is there anywhere that He cannot be seen?"