Morning Light

Early morning light moves about the room as
it dives through the crystal hanging in the window
leaving little rainbows everywhere.
I can almost feel a kiss
as something passes through my soul on the way
to the kitchen.
A moment of tenderness, a soul exposed.
My feet stop the shuffle
in their early morning slippers.
No motion into tomorrow
or yesterday. Just the stillness of now.

I close my eyes and listen to
the glory of the moment.
Soaking into me like the daylight
when it infuses a pond of clear and still water.
The moment warms me with grace and gratitude.
Joy spinning in me like energetic koi
flashing gold and silver.
My eyes open. My slippers slap the floor again
as they take me to a cup filled with hot tea

waiting to go to the garden.

Belief in Change

The other day a friend was talking with me about knowledge we glean from books. We read the books and we understand the truth of what we read but we do not change life's patterns to reflect what we have learned. She believed that we did not change even with the knowledge because we did not believe we could.

I thought about it for a minute and thought of dishes in the sink. We know we should wash the dishes. We have read all the books and explanations about how healthy it is to clean up those dishes and even knowing this - it is easy to shine on all the knowledge and walk away from the work. We know clean dishes will make us feel good, keep us healthy and give us pleasure and we may still walk away, leaving them to worry about, fret about and wish the job was done.

Thinking of the image of the dirty dishes needing change and cleaning them seems much like cleaning up our way of being in the world. Both are actions to remove the debris from the past, both are work. The things we can learn to change the patterns in our lives which may appear as living in the past, dreaming of the future or listening to the ego's rantings will only manifest if we practice and do the work. The reward of the work is change. Clean dishes are a good thing just as being present for our lives is a way of being.

I said to my friend "... it seems that though we know with our intellect that these truths will set us free yet it isn't until our heart knows the truth that we take action and work with the energy of the heart to make it happen."

We both laughed and later as I was leaving she asked with a smile "Are you going to do those dishes?"

What a wonderful life.

Night Sounds

Waking again at the magic hour of 3:00 in the morning the darkness brushing the walls of my room, I remembered a poem I wrote about waking. I decided to share it with you.

Night Sounds

When it gets quiet at night,
the sounds of the world drop away
one by one into the cool indigo silence
of the world sleeping.

Sometimes, then in that cushion of darkness
one can hear the wee sounds of the in-between.

Like a small bell far away,
or like an engine idling, waiting for passengers
sometimes like a radio just beyond audible reach.
voices down the street, wafting from an open window
to your ear.
Like the earth humming an ancient song.

Why does this happen
when one is alone in the star shine
wondering about the night and her secrets.

The moon’s full, belly light
shines through the window
slicing the dark into large bites
yet the still small voices murmur
as I lay with my eyes wide open.

Is it because the veil is thin?
The three o’clock call
waking us from sleep.
I am not the only one.
Others admit this waking hour
and sometimes they too
hear the ethers breath
of night sound.

It is curious,
a wonder and an irritant all at once.
Uncomfortable to recognize
like the stranger ‘s eyes
in which you see yourself.
So,
wrapped in night cushion
I lay listening.