From the Heart

The View From Ramapriya's Window

2012-01-31T08:34:00.001-08:00

She sits at the top of the hill

looking out at city, sea and sky.

Below

planes take off and land,

Bart trains and busses,

trucks and cars

carry others about their busy business

while she

sitting with the birds

in the tops of the trees

lives a different pace

sips tea, eats fruits,

ruminates, meditates

processes

creates,

taking in

and giving out.

Being.

Anything Can happen Next

2012-01-28T08:20:00.000-08:00

The beginnings of the majestic redwoods

of singing frogs

and dogs

and skunk cabbage

and peonies

and apples

lizards and lions

strawberries and grapes

herons and hawks

and sweet human babies

all from the primordial ooze.

Just imagine…

imagine the transformations.

Imagine all that has been.

How can you not believe in magic?

Imagine what might be next.

Beings of light?

Teleportation?

Pure love?

Free energy from the atmosphere?

Universal peace?

How can you not believe?

Anything …

everything can happen next.

Tapping the Underground stream

2012-01-26T19:26:00.001-08:00

Don’t not be sad—

of course you are sad.

Go ahead. Go there. Feel it.

Explore the depths of the darkness

but let there be an undercurrent of joy

for in that sadness are the seeds

of something wonderful,

waiting to be born.

I Still See It

2012-01-25T10:39:00.000-08:00

Still see the magic of that sweetbaby girl

enchanted by fairies

blessed by the smiling moon

born of a love so tender andfierce

in my own young and innocentheart.

I saw it in the child with scabbyknees

and scraggly hair

in the defiant teen

bursting with her own eagerness tobloom,

saw it in the new motherstruggling

with parenting issues of her own.

I see it in the woman, now in herearly forties,

bruised by life’s challenges

angry and in pain,

still see the magic

the enchantment in this being

whom I love with the samefierceness

as when I first held my sweetsmall babe.

If only… if only…

I could hold the mirror

in just the right position

that she might see it, too.

Kung Fu Girl

2012-01-23T11:44:00.000-08:00

I am waiting for Kung Fu Girl

to tell her story

waiting for the paper cranes to fly

spinning plates

balanced on long poles

poetry and apps

photographs and audio files

spinning plates

osito, Gramma’s Walk

publication inspiration

Moon Song quilts

swirling cranes

Kung Fu Girl

spinning plates

can’t let them fall

spinning plates

and waiting for the calm

waiting for the time to breathe

waiting for the words

of my next poem.

Beside me the candle flame

lights the serene face of Quan Yin

and I look to the sky

where rosy clouds drift slowly

calmly against the blue

and I

am breathing.

Give Us This Day

2012-01-19T10:35:00.000-08:00

Drawn back day after day

to this morning dose of poetry

laughter, spiritual camaraderie,

I get a glimpse of why

the devout go to daily mass.

I am tempted to say it grounds me,

but that seems too earthy a phrase.

Anchors might be a better choice;

anchors me to my place in the matrix

which is no place and every place,

stirs my awareness of being

in the vast field where everything is possible,

every thought matters.

This sacred time informs my days,

nourishes my connection to divine beings

on this and other planes,

awakens my senses,

and keeps me humming

in tune with the universe.

What I Choose to Notice

2012-01-17T07:54:00.000-08:00

The morning light

on the drying eggshells

in the kitchen window

catches my eye

and takes my breathe away.

Who would have thought

such a simple thing

could bring such

pleasure?

To Ramapriya

2012-01-14T09:17:00.001-08:00

I spoke of you today

with your luminous snowy hair

and eyes on fire.

I spoke of you,

of your rhythms and melodies

beating their patterns,

creating an ambience,

filling rooms.

I spoke of you,

of your passion to reach out,

bring in, extend, lift up,

invite into the dance,

to include all in the one.

I spoke of you,

your smile,

your laugh.

I hold you in this moment

so happy to have been touched

by your miraculousness,

and when too soon you have gone,

I will hold this love,

this vision of your eyes on fire,

your grace in angelic form

dancing in the light,

showing me the way.

Forgiveness

2012-01-12T09:09:00.000-08:00

My friend asks me to share a message.

Her words are more flowery than mine

filled with references to a heavenly divinity

and yet I hear the message well…

May the law of forgiveness be manifest on all the planes oflife.

May all the laws of Karma be revoked

and all wrong doing to one another, to all in the lifestream,

intentional or unintentional,

through spoken word, thought, or action,

be forgiven.

Attempting to put the words into practice I admit,

I’m having some trouble with this forgiveness thing.

Not that I don’t believe it is important,

perhaps it is the key to true enlightenment,

but the deeper I go

the more perplexed I become.

I forgive you for neglecting the needy,

for being greedy,

for thinking differently than me,

for being blind to the truth,

for putting the interest of the few above the whole,

for being ignorant.

In every act, every statement of forgiveness,

is an assumption of wrong and right,

with me being right and you wrong.

Do I ask forgiveness for your being the yin to my yang

the yang to my yin?

So much easier it is to shift to gratitude

and thank you for the opportunity to grow,

to practice understanding, tolerance, patience.

In forgiveness there is that point of judgment

a point where I perceive you as being wrong,

me as right.

Is this like the question of generosity

of giving where there is no need

without thought to the whether the receiver

is deserving or undeserving?

Is it your act or my perception which I need to forgive?

Where is the place where I might stand

to forgive without judgment?

When I forgive truly and completely

does judgment disappear

and the way clear for all of us

to truly be in this thing together?

To forgive without judgment is to stand back

and see what is unfolding as a little drama

the good versus the bad, fighting, winning, losing—

karma playing out and being repeated over and over,

all gone in a few minutes

To forgive without judgment is to see not the personality

but the divine spark, the Christ, the Beloved,

the essence in each person involved

and to love that essential being

to nurture it to an ever brighter glow.

Namaste.

2011-11-29T10:12:00.001-08:00

Gifted

Let go of expectations

and everything comes as a gift.

I choose unconditional love

from the list of intentions

and breathe it

in and out.

Abundance slips in;

breathe in abundance,

breathe out love,

breathe in love,

breathe out abundance.

Is one different than the other?

I breathe out gratitude,

breathe in forgiveness,

breathe out peace,

breathe in harmony,

and always it feels

I am tossing the coin;

two sides are one,

any two sides,

love, peace,

gratitude, joy,

forgiveness, abundance.

It goes out.

It comes back.

I open my eyes

to the clear gray sky

and see a bird light

on a distant redwood,

bouncing,

balancing on the very top.

I breathe in

and out,

watching the speck of bird

until he flies.

Now as I breathe

the sky blues

and the sun kisses

the place where

the bird has been,

my heart grateful

for these first gifts

on this ordinary

extraordinary

Tuesday.

Finding the Calm... or Thanksgiving with a Three-Week-Old Granddaughter

2011-11-26T13:21:00.001-08:00

My mind!

My time!

I’ve been fast tracking,

by-passing the quiet cushion, skipping yoga.

Today I say, “I will go slow.”

The busy grandchildren have gone home.

No one to tend now, I light a candle,

study the graceful folds in Quan Yin’s gown

and sit

breathing in and out.

But my mind still scurries

here and there,

over the wonders, the snags,

re-tastes the joys of these past days,

burrows into the anxieties,

lists of things to do in the days to come.

So much, such big dreams.

Can we? Will we?

And my friends with troubles,

what can I say to them?

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Finally my mind lights

not empty but caught in a moment,

when after being head cook,

sitting with my family around the Thanksgiving table,

I claim privileges and take the squirming baby.

Eating my dinner one handed

I rock and sooth her,

watch her settle into sleep across my lap.

As we eat and converse and laugh

I look down upon her tiny form,

the sweet profile of her baby face,

so relaxed,

so serene,

so peaceful,

so perfect.

Just remembering

I find myself in total bliss.

The Morning Fire Circle

2011-11-01T15:53:00.000-07:00

Wakening in the predawn light

I look out at the last stars

twinkling in my circle of sky above the trees.

I stretch and put my kettle on

knowing others in my circle also stir,

do morning rituals.

Those in the east have already

had their morning tea or coffee,

eaten their oatmeal or toast and eggs,

and are well into their day,

but soon…soon…we will gather,

ears to our phones,

eyes on the words of today’s

inspirational writing.

We will circle round to tell our stories,

stoke the fires of our understanding,

our connection,

the growing glow dispersing fears,

spreading compassion,

giving light to our vision

of a world joyfully ablaze in love.

Bags Packed and Ready

2011-10-30T13:22:00.000-07:00

The time draws near.

Today I’ll pack my bag.

My daughter wants me there for the birth,

for her first days as a mother,

as I was with her sisters,

watching them hold their newborns,

witness to the breaking open of their hearts

to a love more fierce than they knew was possible,

as mine echoed, remembering

and breaking open once again to this new joy.

They don’t really need me.

They have the instincts and their hearts

to guide them,

but how nice to be wanted,

how thrilling to be in this circle of love,

of renewal.

Each morning

on the call with my friends

there is a bit of that,

a bit of the breaking open

as we birth joy over and over,

sharing, connecting, remembering, awakening

a sense of wonder, renewal, possibility.

I sleep each night with my bags packed,

ready for the journey,

ready to be mother, midwife, sister, lover

as we venture together

into each new day.

To Trees

2011-10-27T07:04:00.000-07:00

Encircled by my faithful redwoods

I journey this morning

To Vera hugging trees

exchanging energies and

twirling the hurricane into peace

To childhood memories of trees,

the big beech with a trunk too big

for three of us to reach our arms around,

our swing tied to a branch so high

I could float forever

swinging to and fro

to and fro

To my young daughter on her own swing

toes reaching into the blue

as she sang her own poetry

Flying so low

flying so high

flying way up

to the abundancy sky

Thank you Bethany

Thank you Vera

Thank you trees

for the steadiness

the strength

and the joy

Antidote

2011-10-20T09:16:00.000-07:00

Poised on the edge

of what is to be;

personally,

new business,

new baby,

circles expanding.

Nationally,

people speaking out,

standing up for justice,

numbers growing.

Can we shift?

Universally,

an awakening,

spreading awareness

of our true nature

as beings of light.

I teeter on the brink,

unsettled,

adrenaline buzzing,

mind antsy.

What to do

in this space?

This almost but not quite

time?

Breathe.

Visualize the good.

Take in the color of the morning sky,

the sun on the tops of the redwood trees,

slice the apples for the winter’s pies,

and don’t forget

to enjoy the sweet taste

of summer’s last peach.

Labor Pains

2011-10-19T07:11:00.000-07:00

Rumblings in the earth,

stirrings in the weather patterns;

hurricanes, tornadoes,

hottest years,

coldest years

devastating floods.

Leaders gridlocked,

blind selfish greed running rampant,

widening the chasm between

haves and have-nots,

to an unleapable size.

Oppressed people rising,

discontent stirring,

rumbling, roaring,

taking to the streets.

One might wish

for a simpler time,

a quieter time,

pastoral days watching

fluffy clouds floating in fields of blue.

One might moan and writhe

crying, Doom! Doom! Doom!

Or one might sense

in the darkness and disruption

the excitement of change,

the emergence of the new.

One might,

instead of moaning and writhing,

choose to dance, to sing,

to love, to embrace,

to breathe through these labor pangs

knowing that the new

the bright

the ecstatic

is being born.

Gifted Again

2011-10-18T19:13:00.000-07:00

Gray morning.

No visible sun.

Rain steady on the roof.

The trees stand guard,

tall, dark, mysterious.

At their edge

a patch of late daisies

reflects the sky

and my heart

gratefully accepts

the gift of another day.

Autumn on the Coast

2011-10-16T10:32:00.000-07:00

In this place autumn is

the time when plants,

gone dormant in the summer drought

awaken, soak in the welcome rain.

On this crisp day my fingers ache

to dig into the soil

make the earth ready

for new plantings

that their roots might

deepen through winter

to be ready for spring.

With the dust now washed

from the summer’s debris

it is a good time for clearing and

I itch to drag dead limbs

from the forest floor

clearing pathways

and vision ways

between the stately trunks

beneath the branches

that the full vibrancy

of the woodland

may rise and shine.

What Can I Say to My Dear Ones?

2011-10-14T09:00:00.001-07:00

He says, “I would do anything for you,”

believing himself to be sincere,

but when she responds

with her wish

he does not hear

for, though a simple thing,

it is not in his limited repertoire.

“I will do anything for you

as long as you don’t try to tell me

what you want.”

What can I say to my friend,

or my daughter,

sisters on the path?

Go deep, go deep.

Listen to the one who speaks within,

who speaks from the sky, the sun, the earth.

Stay with your men,

or leave them,

but let go of expectations.

Let go of needing them to be

what they are not.

Go deep and listen.

Let yourself be loved

by your own highest self,

the inner divine,

who knows you for what you truly are.

Be the love you desire.

Go deep,

unshackle your heart,

unleash your voice to sing

and come,

come join your sisters and ancestors

in the dance.

On the Networks

2011-10-12T13:28:00.000-07:00

We sit down to the news on PBS,

another night, like the other nights.

My partner says

“Can’t they find something different to say?”

Where is the news of the miracle

of peace spreading heart to heart,

group to group,

of the power of the morning call,

of the singing children,

the poets, storytellers, painters

birthing the new story.

“Seek and ye shall find.”

“Build it and they will come.”

If I ruled the world

there would be not just

a news flash interrupting,

but a whole station,

a world-wide network

devoted to the good news,

spreading joy and peace and love

like a blanket,

quenching the flames of destruction.

Who would not tune in?

Who would not rise to share,

join, expand, magnify?

Tune in seekers,

tune in and let’s all

broadcast loud and clear.

They will hear.

We will hear.

Love, peace, joy

will ring in every ear.

Late September Morning

2011-10-10T09:48:00.001-07:00

Rain sings me awake

whispering

sweet promises of green,

kissing, kissing, kissing

the summer parched earth,

softening the outer crusts of seeds,

soaking into cracks and crevasses

to caress the dormant roots,

which tingle at the touch,

shoot juicy signals

to waiting stems and leaves.

It’s time…

Leaves, roots, seeds, rain, me…

all humming

in tender harmonic vibration.