“So much luggage!” the voice says.
I laugh, taking off the needs, those heavy needs
unbuckling the how’s and the why’s
and the rapturous, dissonant speeds
like a tear escaping in the wind
like a ferry departing the shore
fleeting, this moment,and yet
I wonder, to wander into it a little more
Asking “Can we touch this life to experience it deeply?
Can we stand back and embrace the allness
with a resounding YES! instead of the relative safety
of so many ‘maybes’?
Can we remember and become the memory
Dying from the mind to make now, fresh?
Would we want this?
Would we choose?
Would we say yes?”
Together I and the All That Is
are in deep conversation
like two lungs pulsing with the very Universe
embracing such clingworthy illusions
and releasing desirous absorption
inhaling fears of smallness
Causing our human beingness
to ever so deftly fling into nothing
inhaling the bigness swallowing us whole
exhaling trust, trust, trust in a rebirth
Playing there on the pause
with the fullness of a resounding yes!
the breath expands so
to include delicately dancing leaves,
and samba-swaying grass
rising into berry scented winds
and resting -still- on the bare road
For as long as I care to notice
To my eye, there is no question
No fork to divide the fold
no choice to be made here
I come here to weep my gratitude
I come here to this place alone
yet in the fullest of company of those who make Love their home
To pay my loving respect to the wisdom in the Soul
Remembering I have been here
many many times before
When my feet were so much less wrinkled and worn
Sometimes, instead of the full opening
for the sake of drama,
I turned my head left
Finding right where I stood
was a fork: a cliff, a breaking point
so too, it became in my heart and head…
Next, like clockwork, a compulsion for certainty
draws the noise in nearer
Until it is all, again, too much
At last, the senses fall prey
Once again, the outside is folded in
The muck dried up on the skin
Cracking a thousand times
as The Wandering One moved my limbs
Till I would find my gait pulled me straight
through the bending blades
Till I am found at the heart of my destination.
Laughing, tears like a prayer, blur my earthly eyes
I remember, I can get to fresh Ground
and yet, Presence must always answer
“Do I bring freshness to It?”
Or does the ripe scent of my ‘selfness’ follow fast?
How shall it feel, this Space I inhabit?
How would I treat this moment if it were my most beloved guest?
Shall I entertain, this Company?
Shall I prepare the inhale for the family
of my collected values and preferences?
The voice returns,
“So sticky, so intrusive, there is simply no space left!”
Oh how will I best invite Thee
Again, into the emptiness?
“Gratitude and hands turned to others,” it said
“Ears that hear past the din of discomfort
Piercingly awake to the season’s birdsong
Live, not as I want- but as life asks.
Take courage in the gentle returning to One”
“How will I weave the old threads of my stories
I am so used to telling to keep me warm?”
The voice whispers
“Building is in the willingness to come a little more undone.
Take off a layer, child, more, if you wish
you wont need it when its gone.
You are here to warm others.
You are here to reflect the sun”Aeryana Castley May 2013