guest house

this being human is a guest house
every morning a new arrival.
a joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
welcome and entertain them all!
even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still treat each guest honorably.
he may be clearing you out for some new delight.
the dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.


rumi

the empty branches

don't grieve, anything you lose comes round in another form.

rumi

autumn pushes forward

autumn moves on inexorably with its falling leaves and blowing winds and steel blue water and grey scale skies and children wearing more and more and showing up to play on the schoolyard before school later and later and a feeling of reluctance to go outside and a layering of clothes when i bike anywhere and shoes and gloves drying over heating vents and the sound of city trucks picking up leaves at all hours and i feel this sadness as the last vestiges of summer wrapped in gold and crimson and washed out brown fall and disappear but then - this brave friendship . . . these two trees somehow merged and ignoring the imperative, carry on with their lives as if nothing . . . nothing else matters . . . . .

onlyness

two weeks ago . . . 

i rode by her and then went back because 

she was truly beautiful

and now she's entirely 

dropped

her leaves to the ground

where they have been raked and bagged

and sent to the composting site

and i know 

as i ride by her

that she's inside

her body

feeling 

the bareness

the stark thin

spindly

onlyness

of her winterbody

all the small petals

in the soft

centre

of the garden

of your heart

rest the colours

and

all the small petals

of all that you have loved

and love

riches

real wealth

glows

little lake

i ride past this scene each morning and most evenings.

it changes each and every day.

the slight expansivenesss of it always makes my heart swell

and away . . .

i especially love the days when i feel as if i am falling upwards . . . 

self-completing

happy the self-completing tree
that brews, in secret,
its own seasons . . .

   (excerpted from)   dorothy livesay, "the land,"

morning song

away light

the away light signal

crossed and bare -

 a fractured kind of colour

held momentarily

still

as soft pink salmon flesh

and vanilla ice cream

and the palest flares of leaves

still holding

these colours that wash

in the morning, i come down the stairs and past this window. 

if i pass this window at the right time

the sun passes through

the stained glass and throws

a tiny film of coloured light

across the banister

and if i stand behind the banister

the colours wash across my face

i think

because i can't see myself of course

with all the little colours

washing

across my face

ruth's eighty first birthday!

this is a special day for me. more special even than most. you see my mum - ruth - is celebrating her eighty first birthday today.

she doesn't quite match the image of eighty one that i and perhaps you might see in your mind's eye.

today, yes on her birthday, she's flying to england for the weekend to visit with adoring good friends, do some shopping and to travel around to see some special places.

what she'll return to is her role as a walker at the local dog shelter, a supporter of the local donkey sanctuary, a preparer of gift baskets used to raise money for the huntington's foundation, loving tenderer of her garden, bottler of all sorts of awesome preserves (especially pickled beets which i could eat 'till i was sick) friend to many, sister in law to her closest friend margaret, gramma to alan, dawson and lexie, and of course mum to myself and my brother david.

my mum is (among many other things) well read, well movied, well musicked,

thoughtful, reflective, sensitive, and i would underscore several times - driven!

there's lots more about her but really, you get my drift. she's not sitting around any more than she has to. 

actually i don't think she knows how!

i'm very grateful for my mum - she brought me into this world at great personal effort - a couple of days of work . . . . . and stuck with me from then on, through thick and thin.

have you had a "difficult" child? then you know what ruth dealt with while pursuing a career, and managing the rest of her not entirely easy life!!!

nope, it's not been easy but then i think that my mum would ask "why should it be?" and then go after whatever's next in her line of sight.

much of what i value in myself has its roots in my mum. either she showed me how to be or i figured it out by standing on her shoulders and having a look-see.

i love you mum, no more this day than any other but this one is special for the most obvious of reasons!

the wires

one morning i woke up and saw the wires that bring all the goodness from brother sun 

and help spread it across the world . . . 

looking out

i live on a very quiet street.

filled with falling leaves, squirrels running every which way, and today - rain falling. 

among the many fortunes of my life is this little portion of what i see from my front porch . . . 

words to the boomers - hey thanks!

i think the great magical thing about the boomers is that they brought so much magic back to the forefront - well maybe i should be cautious and say - some of them brought so much magic to the forefront and then they pushed the envelope of understanding and perception and welcomed back pieces of the earth and her spirit and then also the spiritual - into this place and i am the grateful recipient of this wave of loving energy that is likely the first little pieces of wood on the great bridge that we as people (for now) are creating between what was and what will be and i cannot and don't really wish to forget the past but i can't settle into it's sometimes but not always and in every way sorry sad messed upness for too long because there's work to be done that doesn't benefit from me looking over my shoulder for too very long, so, i look forward and try my damndest to recognize my place in the great work and help get it done . . . cuz some day someone will wake up and not know about war or dopiness or malice or spite and i'd so like to think that perhaps through the collective efforts of people living their own simple lives in good ways and bringing whatever goodness they can into this world, that this simple vision . . . this simple possibility . . . can become what is. peace. love. out!

all the colours you are

i dance

in the wild garden

that is 

you

thinking ahead

who'll know this life of mine

who'll care enough to wonder

who'll wish they'd asked me questions

who'll wonder what i did

will i 

have done

all that's necessary

to merit

their interest

my ordeal

my ordeal in you is that

     i take no heed of my ordeal.

your nearness is like your farness.

     when is the moment of my rest?

qushayri

of many distances

silent friend of many distances, feel
how your breath enlarges all of space.
let your presence ring out like a bell
into the night. what feeds upon your face

grows mighty from the nourishment thus offered.
move through transformation, out and in.
what is the deepest loss that you have suffered?
if drinking is bitter, change yourself to wine.

in this immeasurable darkness, be the power
that rounds your senses in their magic ring,
the sense of their mysterious encounter.

and if the earthly no longer knows your name,
whisper to the silent earth: i'm flowing.
to the flashing water say: i am.

rainer maria rilke

strange flares

o lamps of fiery lure,
in whose shining transparence
the deep cavern of the senses,
blind and obscure,
warmth and light, with strange flares,
gives with the lover's caresses!

how tame and loving
your memory rises in my breast,
where secretly only you live,
and in your fragrant breathing,
full of goodness and grace,
how delicately in love you make me feel!

john of the cross

i am a bird in God's garden

we fall into each other with such grace

at night we fall into each other with such grace.
when it's light, you throw me back
like you do your hair.

your eyes now drunk with God,
mine with looking at you,
one drunkard takes care of another.

rumi

without a plan

the sweet and colourful

cacophony

of autumn

petalled threshold

the altar

let us build here an exquisite friendship,
the flame, the autumn, and the green rose of love
fought out their strife here, 'tis a place of wonder;
where these have been, meet 'tis, the ground is holy.

ezra pound

worlds within worlds

while listening the singing


like a wind, voice of woman is flying,
seems the black one and wet and of night,
and the things it is easily touching –
all become of the other one kind.
it floods all with the diamond glaring,
somewhere something it silvers for flash,
and, with its unbelievable dressing
of a silk, it is making a splash.
and such strengths, such unusual powers
carry forward the spellbound voice,
as if farther is not grave of ours,
but a ladder the heaven across.

anna akhmatova

hardship

i admire this man so deeply . . .the dalai lama . . .

he said on september 24th . . . "hardship, in forcing us to exercise greater patience and forbearance in daily life, actually makes us stronger and more robust. from the daily experience of hardship comes a greater capacity to accept difficulties without losing our sense of inner calm. of course, i do not advocate seeking out hardship as a way of life, but merely wish to suggest that, if you relate to it constructively, it can bring greater inner strength and fortitude."

much of the work of tearing ourselves away from the features of our past that have held us in check . . . or maybe it would be more truthful to write . . . that we hold ourselves in check for in order to maintain their 'integrity' . . . have contained and bring into play, considerable hardship for each of us.

the work of building bridges away from that past and then reaching across the great space between the present and the future also involves degrees of hardship . . . but it's a quality of hardship that contains love and goodness and creativity and most especially . . . hope . . .

my view in this moment is that hardship that evokes hope,

is entirely worthy . . . . . .  and desirable

life as art

“the purpose of art is not the release of adrenaline but rather the gradual, 

lifelong construction of a state of wonder and serenity.”

glenn gould

so near

it feels

as if

we need each other

this much

while 

needing each other

this little

facing

this tree

this man

watching

each the other

blur

into discontinuity

mirror skewed

i was sitting by a slow moving shallow river

watching the sky being just so

and forming into tender sweet clouds of white mist

oh so perfectly mirror skewed in the little

close to the shore ripples

of water stirred up by my children

whose excitement was whorled into

an oily smear carried

like a holy and other

completeness

until

washed out thin

and dissipated

it drifted

downstream