A Journey of Soul Discovery
We are intimate with the Earth each day
We breathe in and she breathes out
We sleep and she dances
Our hearts beat this moment and she pours her pulsing oceans into our veins
We are perfect as we stand on her rocky, sharp edges. She fully accepts our imperfections
Touch her in a way that no one has done before
Stimulate her entire being so she breaths life into you
Give yourself time to make a prayer that will become the prayer of your soul. Listen to the voices of longing in your soul. Listen to your hungers.
Give attention to the unexpected that lives around the rim of your life. Listen to your memory and to the in rush of your future, to the voices of those near you and those you have lost.
Out of all of that attention to your soul, make a prayer that is big enough for your wild soul, yet tender enough for your shy and awkward vulnerability; that has enough healing to gain the ointment of divine forgiveness for your wounds; enough truth and vigour to challenge your blindness and complacency; enough graciousness and vision to mirror your immortal beauty.
Write a prayer that is worthy of the destiny to which you have been called.
John O’Donohue, at Cliff’s of Moher
Intimacy is like a fire you tend to each day
The more fuel you add the bigger the fire gets
The fuel is vulnerability and letting go of expectations, to name a few
The risk is the fire gets too big and to hot
We fear getting burned or being consumed
So we put up defenses and throw water on the fire
The other risk is the fire goes out
The flickering red tone begs for its last gasp of air
But nothing helps and the glow fades slowly into the brown ground
At that moment we make a choice
Either tend to the hot fire or relight the doused flames and then
Bask in it’s warmth, slowly feed it and keep it lit so it nurtures both body and soul.
“Love releases us into the devine imagination, where the soul is expanded and reminded of its unearthly cravings and needs. We think that when a lover inflates his loved one he is failing to acknowledge her flaws – “Love is blind.” But it may be the other way around. Love allows a person to see the true angelic nature of another person, the halo, the aureole of divinity. Certainly from the perspective of ordinary life this is madness and illusion. But if we let loose our hold on our philosophies and psychologies of enlightenment and reason, we might learn to appreciate the perspective of eternity that enters life as madness, Plato’s divine frenzy.” Thomas Moore
One wonders, how the wildflower seed grows
From where it arrives no one can know
Exquisite and delicate, windswept through its flight
Can it grow in the day or does it open at night
Its plantings a mystery, no curation nor control
Trust must be cultivated, from deep within its own soul
Its natural beauty could burst out any day in the sun
But it blooms on its own, such tenderness not easily won
This wildflower can grow among weeds or tall grass
But never can one, such beauty possess
Many moments of wonder, the heart flows with such joy
To have gazed on such beauty, this Helen of Troy
The wind and the rain, could tear it apart
So don’t hold it too close with your hand on your heart
But make no mistake, the sun does rise and does set
Just live in this moment where there is no regret
Cause what’s so great, about this flower so true, yet so wild
Are its shapes and its colors, drawn forth from the heart of a child
And though this heart so complex, at times fragile and scared
Even so it still will blossom, when it simply declares
It was a perfect storm.
Each part of life aligned and designed to collide
An eruption of forces drives down through the sea
Triggering a tsunami of upheaval
Reaching for control to lessen the force
of the pain as it comes faster and harder
Pounding against the walls built for safety
We should be OK, I should be OK
But should is not real
Wave after rolling wave, my soul patiently awaits
Taking with it one grain each moment
As I tumble into the sea
Drawn down into its depths, the dark salty sea fills my lungs
Each grain crunches between my teeth
Control slips away, floating slowly to the bottom as the sand
burst around me upon impact
It chokes me, fighting for breath, for life, not knowing where up is
The storm rages above, the darkness surrounds me in echoing silence
Somehow breathing, I rest finally
At the bottom I sleep, gently in the womb of mother earth
Her milk feeds my soul and I let go of all I gained
I let go of many I loved and
I sleep
In the darkness of wisdom and in the peace of the unknown
I sleep
The sun rises each day in a golden blaze
The flowers bow giving glory to its rise
But we can’t see love until it’s too late
The desire for beauty burns deep down inside
Hungering for perfect love, that healing force
We suffer our hearts poison
Hoping to cover our own souls loss
Our eyes are bigger than our heart
Our bark louder than our bite
In silence it comes, and then we depart
Not knowing she had entered
So we don’t see love until it’s too late
Why is it ever too late
if our heart dares to speak again
Why not step forward
Admit our guilt put down our pen
But those memories never sleep
Awake at night, closed eye during the day
Born to a world we neither love nor hate
Still we don’t speak our love until it’s too late
Love we want we cannot have
Longing for our hearts beat to still
Love we want we just can’t have
Bending towards her fragile will
In a moments flash, our desire is filled
Yet our grasp to tight for our empty plate
In a moments time, we know why
That we never know love til its too late
I saw the shine of a pearl beginning to form
A gathering of pieces from the winds of a storm
A sincere and rare beauty of the heart will deceive
She’ll touch you in places you didn’t know you’d need
So hear the sound of love in your hurt so well known
If you’ll just listen to your soul’s echo against the cold hard stone
Is it possible, the only way some of us can love is when we’re hurt by love?
We’re simply waiting for someone to hurt us?
Then we can prove to them we were right,
we’re incapable of being loved!
Is it possible, we humans run from the very love we need…
Not even we’re running or that we need it?
Maybe it’s them, we think. They’re incapable of loving.
More likely though
….it’s us .
Incapable of loving ourselves?
Not tar but special colored blocks,
forming a lovely pattern
Very different than any other driveway in the neighborhood- a perfect driveway
Except for those dam tiny, ugly
weeds that grow up between those special colored blocks
They were not supposed to grow with the special sand that hardens so no weed
can root
But they do and I hate them spreading out in the cracks
They really bother me, spoiling the look of- a perfect driveway
On my knees I try to slowly pull each one out hoping to see its root surface between the crack
But they break off and I lose the root to the crack which really pisses me off
The ones I do get, I put in a pile, and let them rot in the sun beside the driveway
This way they will know how it feels to have no roots and to feel alone next to- my perfect driveway