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I don’t think I have found meditation described in such an understandable way.

I love the excitement of having a project to work on. These took a couple of days to make, but it was fun.

It’s quite here now.

Our beautiful mother has asked us to be silent and still.

She has asks us to whisper and be respectful of what she has given us.

Life and death.

She asks us to die enough to live because she knows we can’t truly know life, without knowing death.

She asks us to join her in mourning as her children have begun to accept what’s been lost.

The last of their clinging is now in the past.

And it’s quiet here now.

She has called home the ones whose time had come.

And she rejoices in our mourning and stillness.

For in her nature she understands that passing is really beginning again.

She does not judge us for clinging, for even her trees cling to their leaves in desperation.

In quiet desperation

Letting go slowly at first.

One by one as their earth life fades away.

The wailing winds leave no chance for clinging, they sweep away the last of the dying.

It’s so quite here now.

Each one of us is sacred light trapped inside of flesh and bone

Caught in the mind’s illusion, we feel separate and alone

Trapped in this space without awareness, flailing, grasping, falling, blind

We are empty vessels inside a prison made of mind

We’ve created certain madness that appears to be quite sane, by virtue of the masses, churches, politics and blame

But mind has told us many things to keep us grounded, maimed, and slow

As Sacred light is always light, creation made this so

The light that is inside of us is always free to grow

We need not be caught inside this hell, our fear, and insane rage

This disillusioned thinking in our minds imaginary cage

Our mind has taken hostage our ability to see

It feeds us pain and keeps us full on endless misery

But inside of each of us, we carry a bright flame

And we could leave it all behind and end this vicious pain

At some point we must ask ourselves, do we really want to live

Or do we want to stay safe and keep to ourselves the gifts we’re meant to give

We must be brave and venture into places that we fear

Those place that are inside of us we’ve buried, hidden, not endeared

So today let’s take adventure in that place within ourselves and try to give more of our hearts, for the light within us dwells

I opened my hand and closed my eyes and ask to hold my dreams.

I felt three drops fall in my palm and dropped my gaze to see.

Perplexed and amazed as I looked down,

I saw three little seeds.

Written on them a tiny script in golden lettering.

I took them home and planted them in a tidy tiny row

I watered them each thoughtfully and waited for them to grow.

Not knowing what would come of it, I thought of many things.

Maybe gold and silver or sparkly diamond rings.

Six months went by and then a year, seeing nothing of my dreams, I kept up the watering, as unlikely as it seems.

And then one day I went outside and fell upon my knees

Those three seeds had sprouted up and grown inside of me.

The dreams that I had asked for without knowing what they’d be, turned out to be blessing called mercy, peace and humility.

I wrote this poem about my soulmate Mike’s son Aaron. I never had the privilege of meeting him before he lost his battle with colon cancer, but I had the honor of hearing many stories about what an amazing, beautiful, and kind soul Aaron was. This was written in honor of Mike and Aaron.

My beating heart still keeps the time to a score I didn’t choose.

Precious connections lost in time, the two ends not yet fused.

Metronome ticking time off of the song that was your life.

Keeping pace with a Deftones song about a party with a knife.

Vertically lined notes across my page you slipped away from view.

And I couldn’t help my grasping hands still reaching out for you.

You were a perfect tune to me, a precious song within my heart.

And I must admit when I lost you I thought I’d fall apart.

But I remember the life you lived and songs sung without strife.

So I wake up every morning and do this little thing that I call life.

The beasts of winter at my door, knock on my weary bones

Achy heart and mournful soul, crying and forlorn

I long for things that aren’t for me, the dead, and past decayed

The time that’s past has yet to come when we dwell in yesterday

Like winter ghosts from long gone days

I scratch your window pane

My covers ripped from clinging limbs by the winds of change

The days are short and quiet now, no time for summer songs

I carry on, you in my heart, but that part of me is gone

I wrote this poem as I was sitting at my favorite lake. The reflections in the water reminded me of how our ideas of ourselves are mostly made up of other people’s thoughts about us. Sometimes the ideas they have of us are so far off from who we really are that we lose ourselves in other people’s reflections. For better or worse these are what make up our sense of self and end up being our memories. It takes a lot of self-compassion and commitment to find out who we really are. When I sit in nature and words with emotion come to me, I feel a little bit closer to who I really am.

Reflections
I thought I saw a child in a reflection on the lake.
A distorted image of myself passed down from long gone days.
The crystal water spinning stories a million different ways.
Those long forgotten truths, replaced by made up memories.
Reflected in the water, grown, fabled and believed.
Those ripples stretched the truth so far, It was impossible to see.
The things I thought were true were nothing more than dreams.
Now I keep on going back there to see if things have changed, the things I held up as my life, a reflection on the lake.
And even though they’re only dreams, they helped me to survive.
So I’ll just keep believing them for as long as I’m alive.