Tag Archives: self awareness

karma (26 June 2010)

10 Jul

to say ‘I guess it’s your karma’
like that explains Everything
it has a way of rebounding on you

because even if well intentioned
and highly wise
it really doesn’t sound

particularly compassionate
though it does account
for feeling disproportionate

and really I should meditate
before sending anything
so that magnitudes

(or trivialities) are respected and

an angry opening
will eventually ask to be

  and wise
and look (for) an opportunity
in the eyes

or heart


my gait (22 June 2010)

10 Jul

I haven’t decided on my gait
it’s true you can recognise me from afar
because my hips are tight
and so many years ago I buckled
my ankle too many times to count
and I think that shortened
the calf muscle in my left leg
which of course affects how open I can be
or how much anger I can carry

I haven’t decided on my gait
yet I’m sure it’s true too
when you see me walking into the sun
the silhouette of which tilting
at the neck to one side
like the devil is on my shoulder
and I’m not quite at peace with that
as I flick my head, listening to the kink
and all you see is a quirk

I haven’t decided on my gait
and largely this implies
I’m still under construction
as I walk heal toe, heal toe
in a mindful way on queue
eyes averted and semi truncated
on purpose
so as not to get in my own way

make room to be present (31 Aug 2009)

9 Jan

make room to see
  see that red exists in greens
  trees can be a naked purple
  grass can be so far apart even
   in a carpet lawn
  see the warmth rise and set
  the dancing tea-light expand
   larger than its wick
  see the moon turn
   into a decoration
  or a pond stand still
  see what flowers look like asleep
   (like kittens waiting for milk)
  see birds make crazy angles
  and braches bop to their song of support

and in amongst all the perfect
placements, there exists so much
space, moving as fast as I walk and
  as slow as a breathing mind

make room to hear
  hear the throbbing digestive belly
  traffic, a constant toning of arteries
  and asphalt. The enormous song
  of trees, pausing and disappearing
  into the white noise, here comes
  a whispering blue, an enthusiastic
  yellow. Orchestrating, conducting
  from root to branch
  the dance in a birds throat
  pealing now into now

and in amongst all the perfect
notes there exists so much space, falling and held
in the vast orchestra of in-between
gaps, tuning fork trees, all is
here to exist in this sound
  so sound can exist

make room to smell
  a peculiar breath, entirely conscious
  smell the wood, alive and dead
  smell death, rich and sweet in the
  foliage, in the foliage smell life
   bringing attention to itself
  smell the heat, smell last night’s
  sleep, smell our feet next to the chickens
  and the chicken’s next meal
  And when sitting, a soft
  delicate fragile memory of fragrance
  wafts under my nostril
  into my spine, onto my lips, into
  my spine, onto my lips

and in amongst all the perfect
and stray memories and threads
comes the slow light fragrance of attention
  and breath

make room to taste
  taste the empty bowl when it was full
  while it is full. Linger on the crunch
  and texture; how it melts – knowing
  this in itself is delicious. How it bites
  back or holds an hour long flavour in
  one single bite. Let the tongue swim
  in desire for just this second because
  this sense, like none other, is willing
  to take its turn, slowly salivate
  desire bringing a perfect readiness
  nature is doing her job, nature is
  swallowing, digesting, absorbing
  and letting go exactly and precisely
  balancing a complex organism so simply
  so simply

and in amongst all the perfect
choreography of tongue and thanksgiving
I remember; I am blessed. I am
loved more than I will ever know.
I am Gratitude. Abundance. And the
pain-staking obliteration of everything
else focused on the end of my fork

make room to feel
  feel the pinpoint attention
  mine melting, yours piercing
  feel the still pond, feel the bolder
  drop when I lift the lid
  feel the slideshow reverberate on
  thin skin, feel the depthless
  struggle for survival, the nature
  of all things running its course, the
  disgrace and dignity dying like an
  extinction of something honoured
  feel the helplessness, go as deep as
  space itself, take the drop to the ocean
  and cry for humanity, for degradation
  that takes a being so far from
  home and so desperately hungry and thirsty

feel where you are not allowed
  to go, where the most beneficent and
  sustaining law for the soul
  is the very lid that denies and excludes
the heart of reality. Feel the dissection
the eroding and crumbling of the sun
the Life Giving. The source of sound
and sight
and smell
and taste,
feel all this shine sombrely, shine blazingly on
your skin!

and in amongst all the perfect
emotions, rough, raw and jarring
or polished as a weathered greenstone
feel the shakti rise and dance in one
cell, animate this cell, give life to this cell
sacrifice and make sacred all else
to this harbinger of truth, found in silence
– or song – in this perfect instinct

growing up (12 Aug 2009)

9 Jan

I think you could say
your attention spun me around
your love pealed back the pain
and the pain you handed me
showed how much ugliness
I can love

I can see only now how much
was hidden in order for me to
grow, acute pain is
the earnest throb of blood
feeding stories and vessels

so much needed to be hidden
in that delicate hatching
in order to grow wise
  and strong
  and compassionate

something more true (17 July 2009)

9 Jan

writing of sadness evades
  my pen, perhaps these tears
have a truer quality

like finding something
that wasn’t lost
  (or known)

yet so precious
so intimate as to
  freckle my skin

so known as to feel
  pain in every movement
and know truly that I am

the blood of my story
  the DNA of my mind
the realisation of my self

tantra art (22 May 2009)

18 Dec

Billy McGrath painting of Tantra couple
Billy and I had the opportunity to attend one of Oceana’s Tantra Retreats for couples. Oceana asked me to write an article and I offered a painting to go with it (ala billy).

So while I was writing my article, I was watching billy go through the process of creating a painting, and the process was fascinating. A metaphor for dissolving and merging as the painting moved from one idea into another. I wrote this poem in response.

tantra art

I am watching you
paint me and you
as a cellular blur

a chakra merge
a tide of colours
  moving in and

outside, boundaries
dissolving, form

  beautiful images
dyeing on your page
after a rush of inspiration

beautiful images
dying in our minds
  like perspiration

I’m laughing at how
this individual spark
You. I. coming together

isn’t a loss of my self, rather
  I am more aware

Read the article for Oceana’s Tantric Getaway

self persists (14 May 2009)

18 Dec

I found that vast dot
as a Nothing surrounded
by my inside out

thoughts, kind of bouncing
off a non-existent boundary
like an expression of lovers

surrendering to a vast whole
that can never let me fall
and I am there, in the middle

do I pretend I don’t exist?
how does that dropping away
thought annihilate

itself; drown or burn or simply
the attention brings a flurry

of thoughts, concepts, ideas
  my self
examining this moment as a dot

because still this self persists

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