Poems from March, 2010 Month Long
Spirit Rock Meditation Center

Clear Path - 03/06/2010

Spring - 3/13/2010

Spring Equinox - A Lesson - 3/21/2010

Pilgrimage - Towards Awakening

The White Heron

Endings

Clear Path

the white heron
standing so still, dignity of posture-
so like the yogis in our hall
knowing somehow
To draw ourselves back-back into a center of safety-
consumed solely by the center of our own flames.

Burning of the old -- the old stories
wishes, fears, desires;
your own voice calling to yourself,
only heard by yourself
back, back from the brink of the remembering
to this place where the white heron stands.
Breath- breathing you.

Untouched, by a shredded past,
an uncomprehensible future;
resting like the white heron
only the dignity of the posture remains
blessed by the faculties of our senses
knowing somehow there is no other world,
than this, simply this.

There is this small point, infinite point
where the world divides.

one road --
leading back, back into the flames of becoming
this voice speaking too quickly --
desperately searching through the crowded years
where life's hopes - fears;
can be played
in this game of winning and probably losing
grasping tightly , capturing, imprisoning,
keeping it for all of….. time.

And then there's this other path---old path
caught in the miracle of ordinariness,
bewilderment ---
the price of the sand slipping through our fingers..
knowing somehow that you have to surrender-
leaving behind the hopes and fears in the grasping,
resting nowhere -- falling on your knees;
knowing somehow that the heart knows its way from here- on.

Spring

The gurgling of the creek
asking only one thing.
"Can you move with me"
teaching -- never the same twice -- just moving.
Asking to trust the impossible of this waiting

How to breath this aloneness
poised on a ledge of spring.
everything waiting
bees, flies, you, me,
trembling from the earth's power of renewal.

You came to this place
knowing only faith could carry you across the threshold
some fierce love so deeply buried
some moments so long forgotten
rising out of the clear mind/heart,
that keenly feels its lightness, brightness
wanting to be found, to come alive -
to its own delight, joy, steadiness
letting the darkness recede.

This great posture, unmoved by the small discomforts
sitting -- an ancient Buddha
revealing an upward spiral moving towards a moment-
a moment of disappearing
following up all the way up to nowhere.
Step-by-step

Moving back into the known, this becoming
grabbing the smallest sound in time.
Bang!!
Your sensitivity yelling -- ouch!
Caught, trapped, struggle
had enough of this dying?
Please- please let go.

No wish -no need-only to journey down with gravity
revelations occur
we were never not whole.
Blessed and blessed again
by the emptiness, the nakedness of it all.
We have to give up everything to sit here;
the eyes of a wise-one and the heart of a child.

Spring Equinox - A Lesson

Before freedom speaks
you must know?
Know you lost something
someone somewhere somehow.
When a small shiver -- vibration
some tingling that causes your fingertips to stretch out;
out beyond time
someplace where that budding awareness
Leaves the foul taste and smell behind.

So a lucid calmness
like stepping through the clouds
being held in all directions
your own strong arms
embracing that seer/ that seeker
the one who promised freedom.
Your own body covered in rags
A patchwork of so many dreams;
caught in the destiny of becoming.

Today you looked under the covers
far beneath the aluring senses
somewhere where a warm heart and fierce eyes;
feet free to walk-
among the high mountains again....
unmoved but the chill of last year's dying.

Needing only a moment of full attention
the whole world disappears
all the grasping to belong -- gone
all the constructions- useless
this body-mind; interconditionality - known
wisdom well earned sees the natural state of things
Oops ! the heart breaks open.

Pilgrimage - Towards Awakening

So why would I want to climb this mountain?
Maybe it was yesterday, last week, last month, last year, sometime long ago,
long before now.

A lightning bolt cut through the darkness of minds eternal chatter.
Revealing a majestic snow -- covered peak.
Somehow not knowing if it was real or a dream?
Some impulse deep down,
knowing no time to waste...

The heart frozen
the mind emeshed in fog
body not found.

Knowing the harsh need to changes us, was at hand.
Sitting down in remedial silence
watching everything like the sages, seers, seekers,
listening, listening breathing, fidgeting,
thoughts like streams of every color
darting off, landing nowhere.

Was it five days; nine days,
waiting for that inner compass
that trusted voiceless instinct
like a sleepwalker
surrendering the mind to the heart.

Humbly walking without seeing
zero visibility
heart knowing its way;
nervously letting ourselves down
on this old path
trodden by so many courageous;
seekers -- wanderers -- pilgrims.

letting go of the ground we stand on
nervously clinging to every day,
so for one moment --
the breath -- breathe all beings.
Yes! You were always whole...
The mountain was you.

The White Heron

standing so still, dignity of posture-
so like the yogis in our hall
knowing somehow
To draw ourselves back-back into a center of safety-
consumed solely by the center of our own flames.

Burning of the old -- the old stories
wishes, fears, desires;
your own voice calling to yourself,
only heard by yourself
back, back from the brink of the remembering
to this place where the white heron stands.
Breath- breathing you.

Untouched, by a shredded past,
an uncomprehensible future;
resting like the white heron
only the dignity of the posture remains
blessed by the faculties of our senses
knowing somehow there is no other world,
than this, simply this.

There is this small point, infinite point
where the world divides.

one road --
leading back, back into the flames of becoming
this voice speaking too quickly --
desperately searching through the crowded years
where life's hopes - fears;
can be played
in this game of winning and probably losing
grasping tightly , capturing, imprisoning,
keeping it for all of….. time.

And then there's this other path---old path
caught in the miracle of ordinariness,
bewilderment ---
the price of the sand slipping through our fingers..
knowing somehow that you have to surrender-
leaving behind the hopes and fears in the grasping,
resting nowhere -- falling on your knees;
knowing somehow that the heart knows its way from here- on.

Endings

Did you say it was over.
You mean I'm kicked out
back to the world I so carefully crafted?

How could this be?
I just got here.
You must have a plan.
all this work
just to get so sensitive?

It was raining and dark
both inside and outside.
When I arrived.
Sitting quietly,
again and again
and so
the clouds on the inside
began to thin-
day by day.

You knew you came
to give up some of the old,
and frightened parts.

Remembering some faith---
the Sun having been there all along.
waiting,
waiting patiently.,
day after day....

For you to breathe into your heart once again
standing firm
-- knowing for sure that the winds of change;
demanding everything.
only to pull you back into the complex- of your life.
maybe this time.
Pausing a little longer.
Listening
listening to something below the chatter.
Heart little more at ease.
One sings one song.
Mercy Mercy --