With a shift, an inkling, concepts dropped
and I was all of my true name.
I felt etched in moving water.
I streamed me, was as water frozen,
as water falling, water drifting
as fog, as cloud.
I was mini-singular, H2O.
My two hydrogen rabbit ears
danced five different ways,
and my oxygen laughed and sang,
(what a fabulous team!)
Sundried, now as the clock struck noon,
I found my feet and stood.
I built myself of basaltic rock.
Tower of Babel–polyglot soundings
in cyclic revision spoke intelligence,
spiraling I was.
I inverted. I apt dived down
and in my transitions,
I grew rounded and hollowing.
I was Earth. I was Center.
Was Sun at Earth Center
where timeless pinpoint passages
snatched me home again.
I have no name.
Altogether I was walking a familiar path,
when strangely my shoulders felt pressed embraced.
My two feet moved so fast; I felt levitated!
Along my lower spine a surge of traffic came —
particles and waves of sunlight
from the center of the earth.
HI HO! my trillions of cells exclaimed,
stretching borders of their community kingdoms.
To reach to nourish to receive it in.
This is all of why I am simply here, I think.
To stop, to sense, to listen.
Call it love.
How is it that such magic happens?
Bless this place at year’s ending.
a tick of your distant heart
and for me the wheels go spinning
golden spires in evening breeze dip
and you, gripping, reach to the river
what do you see
with your hunting eyes?
what tastes come
i see only peace all about,
your wings of splendid silver filigree
tail tilted to the setting sun
many suns within your heart of hearts
do you know i forever run toward you
and to all your dragon friends?
do you feel me smiling laughing
my joy my welcome?
You see every bit of me, my morning star.
You pour life to me, no matter what.
I need not ask.
I open to receive.
Turn the bucket of me
right side up.
When you fill me with your golden fire,
you bend my edges wide and this
Pausing, breathing, I grow into my new skin.
Is there no end to this?
One part of me cries out–please stop!
Another part sings all glory.
Did someone leave my door ajar?
Or there is no door but what I make
Light has left me messages, as questions
such as these, and I have nibbled.
This morning rather I gobble.
I take my cue from my dog
who seizes moments.
This morning I have eaten all the bait.
Hook line and sinker.
Where there are no doors, cracks forever are.
Wherever there are slippings
and mighty shifts
leaning from my apartment rail
out from dry haven of a slant roof run
my fingers palms cups overflow full
and i imagine
tiny fractal mouths all
in a pine tree nearest me
bundles of green frond tips
opening to first arizona rain
later, at my returning
the afternoon sun appears
shadowed in a cloud break
every water slick
green of pine
casts ornamental silver
and one hummingbird
edges my head
all wonderments these
gracing a new summer’s day
When I first moved to Cottonwood Arizona in January of 2014, I was instantly hooked by the ever-presence of giant hill after hill of Ant Communities. Nation upon nation and so industriously alive. I found myself dropping headlong into the mystery and power of it, of their mini-cosmos worlds.
Down on the rock and sand flood plane of the Verde River I took many pictures, up close.
And finally I began bringing offerings of pulverized crackers.
But alas, not everyone would be so enamored. Some may regard them as pests always, many as a sort of no-thing, even in the wild outdoors.
Might we bring a little awareness and more consideration?
I am remembering my father now, as I go to this place. I hear his voice echoing in me, his mantra (when we were out in Nature together)
“Always keep your eyes open, you never know what you’ll see”.
When I am aware, with the eyes of my heart open,
I see them and I so love and respect them.
They seem powerful friends to me.
These days I’ve upgraded to sprinkles
of slightly outdated, by human standards–raw oats.
I wish to teach the children about the beauty and awesomeness of ants,
as I was rightly taught. Let’s send messages of love and respect
to All of Nature.
It’s coming to me today in a gentle shout, as a reminder, that we humans are here in this life to be truly alive, to grow and to flower, to cast new seeds–in short, that our purpose in living is to be free to create, to love and to share. And this is a great pleasure, a natural enjoyment.
It is so simple that spelling it out here is as easy as stepping off the shore into a lovely sandy pond, or off an ocean beach to have the toes experience the push of rumbling surf.
Who among us did not simply create–make up stuff and simply play, when a child.
Take a second to feel this experience which you know.
You have not forgotten.
You remember one day of it now.
it is a summer’s evening and school is out
and you run run run with friends
you run and run and run and you are free
your feet do not touch the ground
the sky is beautiful
the sun tells no time
and then after a while
the call comes from the house
one day right now today is the day
do not answer this call from the house
the house is not your home
you are free right now
you have all you ever needed
it never left you
you are free to play
on this new moon satellite day
with lunacy seeming ebbed to zero
circle light perimeter
i have anticipated one hundred percent
only wild surprises
all things willing
come into this loop!
new moon with no
iota of moonlight
In consideration of this statement:
“All creation–whether Quark, Rock, Human, Galaxy–is conscious.”
I am posing this question: “Truth or Lie”?
My baloney meter madly swings to left and to right, and when its motion drops way and needle settles, the answer surprises me. Nothing at first, sort of, as when you shake the Magic-8 Ball and the “outlook not so good” appears in the tiny window.
Negatives are really never satisfying and you shake it again. But still, have faith and thank God for any position! I wait.
Do I see a faint shadow of a figure? Then, there’s a zipping noise in my head, traversing from left to right ear. Zipline? Phoneline? Inline? Online?
Someone or something is laughing. A Buddha-like figure, but with lots of reduced body weight? Something not figured, but flowing.
“And who are you”? I ask.
I am that, I am
Pretty convincing, as long as you are ok with a non-intellectual argument.