All That Matters

You’re here, sweet one

And that’s all that matters

You think you have to be someone

Do something, go somewhere

But there’s only ever this

And there’s only ever you

This is all You ever wanted:

The mere fact of my presence

My sheer existence, nothing more

Whatever my shape

Whatever the skin I’m in

Whichever side of any line I’m on

All the rest irrelevant

I realise that now

All – all – that matters

Is that you’re here, sweet one. 

Home

Yes, yes, I’ll come

I always knew I would

But had no idea how to start

Now, tentatively, I begin

Each step tiny, vulnerable

Faltering, always allowing

For the possibility of falling back

Yet the movement arising within

Knows its own way home

And has no need of a guide

Love beyond imagining

There's Nothing Wrong Here

There’s nothing wrong here

Yes, you’re hurt, but that’s the point

To break open, to give up, to lay down your weapons

Your plans, your strategies, your objections

To finally say yes

It never had anything to do with working it out or understanding it

All you need do is see, and you’re already seeing

How could we have known?

It’s utterly innocent, and devastatingly beautiful

God is this

God is this floor, and this tune, and this cushion, and this nearly-cold tea

This pen, this hand, and this breath

Even the separation was never separate

Even the fading was always in full view

We’ve exhausted ourselves going precisely nowhere

Now we can hold hands and rest

What If?

What if I just let go?

What if all my "this is what you need and here's how to do it" is only fear?
What if all those doom-filled future scenarios are simply the imagination of a scared child?

What if I stop my fixing and organising and helping?
What if I stop pretending there's anything wrong here?
What if none of this is actually mine?

What if I'm heartbroken, ripped apart by the sheer beauty of it all?
What if I'm absolutely as I'm supposed to be?
What if all of this, every last part of it, is totally fine?

What if it's okay to move on, to leave it all behind?
What if there's nothing here to resolve, sort out, or understand?
What if it really is alright, just like this?

What if there's no effort required?
What if there's nothing other than this?
What if there's no reason to develop or change one iota?

What if I just let go?

Such is Grace

You love me so much that You give me everything
Yet still I complain

And You, loving me as You do,
Let me complain
With Your hands held out
Full of offerings

In the certain knowledge
That eventually, the complaining will stop
And I will simply surrender to Your love

Such is Grace

These Books and I

The books on these shelves here, to my left

Once laden with promise, heavy with the hope of salvation

Are no longer groaning under the weight of such responsibility

I supped greedily on those words

Desperately praying that the nectar of freedom

Might be magically conveyed via those pages

To transmute my undoubted suffering

Surely, I reasoned, the answer must reside somewhere in those sentences?

It's been a while since I last glanced across at them

Tonight, I notice some familiar words on the spines

(Mystery, spirit, vastness, heart, extraordinary)

And I see colours – dark blue, black, deep crimson, green –

Against the white of the bookcase

Otherwise, they seem strangely empty, offering nothing

No longer required to hold out hope

Relieved of the burden of redeeming me

These books and I now all free

To simply be what we always have been

The Axis

I thought I was important
I thought I was the centre of the universe

Believing I was the axis on which the Earth spun
I was, Atlas-like, carrying the world on my shoulders
And it was really very heavy

A momentary shift in perception
Reassures me that the world will not stop spinning
If I lie down and rest for a while

Selling Yourself Short

My guess is

That you’re trying to not be what you are

So wonderfully, hysterically futile

My guess is

That you’re selling yourself woefully short

I know I did

I kept my sights in check

Punched well below my weight

Procrastinated, dissembled

And came up with a hundred excuses

Believing that if I hid beneath the parapet

I might escape the inescapable

Trying not to be this

Made me mad

Not all-out-bonkers insane

But contained, constrained, numb

Then the lying came to an abrupt halt

There I was, totally exposed

Deeply insecure, stumbling uncertainly

Rendered utterly incapable

Of being anything other than this, here, now

And inexplicably, incomprehensibly happy

Falling

Always scared of falling, I clung on

Holding fast to anything that seemed secure

Eventually, it all gave way

And I dangled, desperately bracing

Against the inevitable screaming descent

Of my solid body to the ground

Finally, I jump
(Having exhausted every other option)

But instead of the expected terrifying hurtle

I’m caught by a gentle upward draught

Stunned, I discover my weightlessness

And the total absence of places to land

All further struggle rendered unnecessary

This Is An All-Inclusive Ticket

Believing yourself unworthy, deeply flawed, or incomplete

You deny your total acceptability

However, if you read the small print

You’ll see that this is an all-inclusive ticket

With no caveats, exclusions, or conditions

There’s nothing to dispose of, box up or pack away

The price of admission covers everything

And no further payments are required

Strangely Silent

Lately, this room has fallen strangely silent

The white table there, the books on the shelf,

And the two mismatched rugs, all suddenly quiet

The recently-gathered dust balls have ceased their taunting

No more recriminations from the dirt on the floor

No further complaints from the unopened paint cans

Not one extra dose of shame from the unpacked box

The yet-to-be-fixed coat hooks or even the peeling wallpaper

Now that there is no one here to listen

To take delivery of fault or blame

None of it has a word to say

How still this room has become

How strangely silent

The Door

A long time ago

You began knocking at my door

And a thousand times a day

I’d refuse to answer

Believing that the door was locked

And that I didn’t have a key

I sought out master locksmiths

Thinking it was a complicated matter

Which would take some solving

Now it turns out

The door was always ajar

And you were simply waiting for me

To get up and open it

On Barking Up The Wrong Tree

You’ve been barking up the wrong tree

You think you want out of this

But what you most long for is to be right in it

You think you want it all to stop

Yet what you’re yearning for is the start

You think you’re afraid to die

In fact, you’re afraid to live

Scared witless by your untamed aliveness

You think you want love to make you whole

When really what your heart most wants

Is for love to take you apart

So that you can taste the sweet fruits of annihilation

You think you should keep it all together

Your true longing is for it all to fall apart

So catastrophically that you’ll be left with nothing

And the game will be over

I know, I know

It all got so horribly complicated

And you thought that’s what life was

Trust me

When you see the sheer simplicity of this

It will take your breath away

On Sunday Afternoon

I contain the world.

Surely

I can’t be this

I’m not allowed to be this

I should be cut down to size, restricted, belittled.

Then comes the relief: I thought it would never end.

It’s over.

I made it.

I was barren, yet now I bear fruit.

Was lost, yet now am found.

Such heartbreaking beauty. The struggle is over.

I shut down.

I tried to keep it in.

I tried to keep it out.

I never wanted to leave, but there was no choice.

Heartbroken, we stumble.

Such desperate longing, yearning.

I thought I didn’t have it.

I thought I wasn’t God.

I failed to see my own perfection.

Constantly feeling there was something to be done.

It couldn’t be here or this.

It couldn’t be now.

Missing beyond missing.

Grief beyond grief.

Utterly, utterly undone. Laid waste. Razed to the ground.

The gatekeeper, the vigilant one

Parcelling, limiting, confining, controlling, holding, scared

Terrified witless, actually.

Such safety in limitation

Such safety in borders

Freedom and limitlessness so far beyond comprehension.

Lost and found were never, ever separate from each other.

Each other: such love in those words

The deep embrace we think we’ve lost

The deep embrace that never left.

In our brokenness lies our completeness

In our fragility lies our strength

We are forged by our undoing.

Falling into each other’s arms

All the richer for discovering there is no other.

Never abandoned, left or forsaken

Never betrayed, rejected or neglected

Such tales we tell.

Then what? We wonder.

What now?

No end and no beginning.

Aliveness.

Intimacy.

Blessed rest.