This Is What Love Does

The juju thoughts, the talismanic thinking

Each carefully tended plan, every last strategy

All previously-struck deals and bargains:

Love took them all out of my hands today

And I, willingly this time, gave them all up to love

This is what love does

So we can pass through the needle’s eye

And enter the kingdom of the heaven we thought was elsewhere

Come Back To The Well

Come back to the well and quench your thirst for aliveness

Rage with the torrent

Spin with the whirlpools

Pause in the millpond stillness

All of it water, however it flows

Jump right in

You’ll get wet, of course

You might even risk a drowning

But why make do with the sidelines of life?

Marvel at the miracle of imagining

Revel in your maddest thoughts, your most insane notions

Rejoice in your body’s contortions, the aches of the flesh

You see and are seen

You do and are done unto

You hear and are heard

You act and are acted upon

You know, are known

And are the knowing of it all

Why pretend you're not all that?

Dare You Be So Bold?

There’s an embarrassment of richness here

You are the luxuriance of being, unfestooned

The decadence of depth

It’s not that you’re not enough

For existence itself is beyond plentiful

When you see your own completeness

You’ll wonder if you dare be so bold

As to appear in public minus the garb of insufficiency

That you’ve been mistaking for who you are

This Is What No One Can Teach

No one ever taught me how to feel this pain

I learnt how to doubt and second guess myself

So all this time, I’ve been stopping well short

I no longer want your promises of salvation

(Such an inadvertent disservice, such a well-intentioned unkindness)

No one ever taught me how to lay myself open

What greater freedom is there than to feel this

Thus rendering everything else (having served its purpose)

Null and void?

My body, arcing and shaking, finally dances to its own tune.

Like Jesus’ time in the wilderness, numerous are the temptations to avoid this desert

Many are the whispers to stay away, to be unfaithful to ourselves.

This is what no-one can teach. 

This Silent Vow

With no thought to what I ought

I do just what’s required

The absence of rules, observances and resolutions

Brings a deeper resolve,

A wordless commitment:

To meet whatever calls

No longer abandoning abandonment, fearing fear,

Rejecting rejection or leaving loneliness on its own

To dwell in abandoning, fearing, rejecting and leaving

Until their time is done

This silent vow

Is to be here for it all

To consecrate all that’s been held mundane

To see the worldly in the divine

To move my allegiance from those false idols  

(What wasn’t and what may yet be)

To worship at the altar of what is

To stand, naked and vulnerable, as I am

No longer sheltering in the shade

Of beliefs, conditions, ideas or excuses

To emerge into the light of now, blinking

And a little timidly, at first.

Making Something Of It

The story, barely begun, meets silence today

A change from the customary making something of it

No momentum forward, no pull back

Bemused by the lack of movement

I sit, and do nothing

The aliveness of my senses wholly apparent

Then a question comes: what is here?

I sit and wait, the answer beyond comprehension

Yet known nonetheless

Next, words come: I’ll take up all the space I want

Really? And how much space is that?

A pause. Then an aah. 

Space does not take up space

It requires no special allocation

It now becomes clear that there’s something precious here

Which needs looking after

We can’t begin to know what it wants

Until we know that it’s not

What if I object to nothing, and things are as they are?

(Laughter.)

When The Times Comes

1.      Self or not self:

The heart knows no such boundary

To all things a season

Indivisible fragments of the undivided whole

No thing without its other

2.      It is time to step out now

You’re not quite ready

So I’ll take your hand

(We’re never quite ready when the time comes)

When you decide to stop dallying, you’ll see:

The gold you thought so elusive

Is not at the end of the rainbow you imagined

When Love Comes Home

It is easy, by comparison, to love everything else

Here, where love is most needed

It’s often hardest to come by

I (like you) was not taught to love me

Having woken one day to find no love here

I went looking for it out there

When love comes home

You’ll hear the songs of praise around you

You’ll see how loved you’ve always been

When love comes home

The Things I Thought Were Me

I come to a stop

At first, it's hard to breathe

As wants, needs, fears, ifs and buts

(The things I thought were me)

Implore me to go on

Much like a clamouring, mewling litter

From this silent dwelling-place

I hear their sweet cries

And gently greet them one by one

Shrill though they can be

They never actually wanted to run the show

I Am Not The Author

I am not the author of this play

Defying all my attempts to rewrite, recast, edit, or expunge

Each scene has remained stubbornly true to itself

Knowing that I, despite my protestations,

Have no idea how the script is written

Neither am I the architect of this house

Its arcs, lines and curves, its walls and doors

None are of my making, whatever my claims

Life's form is entirely its own:

The sweet futility of wanting to make alterations to a design

The intricacies and hues of which leave me open-mouthed

And speechless with gratitude

As If All There Is Isn't Enough

It’s all already here

It’s in this view of roofs and aerials and sky

It’s in the feel of the bed beneath me, the pillows behind my head

It’s in the tears coming down my face and in the song I’m listening to

Exhausted (from all that frantic attempting to change what was here)

I’m momentarily grief-stricken

Now it’s clear there’s nothing to be done

I thought I had to be somebody

As if all there is isn’t enough

As if there was anything to add or take away

As if the lily needed to be gilded

(And as if I had the slightest idea how to gild)

Not A Hair's Breadth

We’re trying to be what we already are

Striving to mend the unbroken

Now there’s a thankless task...

Yes, yes: I know it feels

As if we’re shattered, flawed, in need of ministration

Yet complete and incomplete have not a hair’s breadth between them

Trust me: you are as miraculous today

As you were on the day you were born

Even This

I’ll admit it: I’m really fucking scared

(Well, life can be terrifying)

And there was I, trying to not be scared

I was trying so hard to not be scared

Whining and cajoling, debating, bargaining and pleading:

Not this, surely not this

Luckily, life didn’t give in

So I get to see: I can admit even this.

Even this. 

Here's The Miracle

Sometimes, I just forget.

I forgot you were here, so I thought I wasn’t safe

I forgot you were here, so I went looking for you everywhere

I forgot you were here, so I acted like something was wrong

I forgot you were here, so I believed in should and shouldn’t

I forgot you were here, so I told myself I was damaged and in need of repair

I forgot you were here, so I went looking for love

I forgot you were here, and it all got so complicated again

I forgot you were here, despite the reassurance of everything

I really thought you weren’t here

(It’s easily done)

You’re only everywhere, after all

There’s every single thing singing your praise

And me, gloriously missing the point

I thought I was outside of you, cut off, adrift

Now I discover I’m deep inside, held safe

Nothing to defend, nothing to defend against

Heartbreak the only viable option

Here’s the miracle:

I thought you weren’t here, even though I bathe in you

Now, there’s nothing but love

For those who have loved me and those who have hurt me

For those who left and those who stayed

For all we’ve said and for all that’s been left unsaid

For all we’ve done and for all that hasn’t been completed

For every look, every nod, every smile

For every yes and for every no

I move or I don't move

I write or I don't write

All utterly equal, all movements of the same stillness. 

Let The Silence Descend

This is the only way I knew how to say no:

I pretended to not be broken

I discovered the transient nature of things too early:

You tried to break what was already broken

I couldn’t fight you, so I fought me

Not knowing I wasn’t the enemy

I turned on my blameless self, unaware of my innocence

All this time, I’ve been trying to prove myself unbroken

When all I’ve wanted to do is lie here broken

And let the silence descend

Epithets

I thought I was the epithets you applied to me

So I, in my turn, applied my own

Until they were all that we could see

Today, let’s leave all our ideas at the door:

Your ideas about me and you

My ideas about you and me

For such things prevent intimacy

I’m tired of making excuses for what I am and what I’m not

I want to lie down with you

I want to come to you empty-handed

I have nothing to offer, and there’s nothing I need

We are so much less than we think we are

And so much more than we could have imagined

The Ballad of Me

I tried not to feel it

Yet not feeling it was so much more painful than feeling it

I tried not to need, thinking that if I could not need

I’d get what I needed

I knew this wasn’t it, and I ignored that knowing

In all the ways I knew how

I built a shrine to myself

I sang the ballad of me

My triumph when it was turning out well

My fault when it was turning out bad

Intent on proving myself right

I waited (in vain) for you to validate my version of me

Let’s face it: we’d almost rather kill ourselves

Than admit this isn’t who we are

Here’s the thing: It’s all totally innocent

We can only be what we are

The Stunning Symmetry of Opposites

I thought this wasn’t enough.

I wasn’t terrified of death:

I was terrified that this was all there was

I was terrified that life might only be this

I was trying to survive on only one shore

Despite the waves carrying me relentlessly to the other

I didn’t understand that it’s enough just to be here

Today, I can’t find a difference between life and death

Life completes death, death completes life

The staggering completeness of it all, the stunning symmetry of opposites

There's black’s velvet comfort, white’s deep delight, such intimate exquisiteness
And nothing ever out of place

When You Let Life In

When you’re willing to give every single last thing

You’ll give up your bargaining, your frantic insisting

You’ll disband the border controls, dismantle the surveillance

And you’ll stop counting life in units of you

When you let life in

The door will open, and everything will hurt

so much that you’ll laugh helplessly

Open the door to love, and pain will come too

Open the door to pain, and love will inevitably follow

The Caterpillar Is Not Condemned By The Butterfly

The caterpillar is not condemned by the butterfly

I was looking (in all the wrong places)

for a solution to a riddle

that didn’t exist

That’s how it had to be

That’s how I had to be

We have to be that to become this

Here’s the secret: there’s nothing about you

that needs to be changed,

nothing even a hair’s breadth out of place

Transformation is your very nature;

no admonishments or exhortations are required.

Yet we berate the caterpillar

We’re often at odds with our markings

Struggling, our movement limited to an ungainly crawl,

we long to fly, in the faint belief

that we have wings, somewhere

One day, the time comes, and all activities cease

All further motion is rendered futile

as we turn inward, trust the darkness, and wait.

There Is Nothing To Be Done

I’ve been rationing silence

(As if it were a rare and precious commodity)

Because I knew it would be the death of me

And I had to learn to be willing to die

Stop for too long, and the Divine will claim you as its own

Make sure there aren’t too many cracks where the light can come in

Or you’ll realise that there is nothing to be done

You can’t force this: let it come to you

You do not need to earn or embellish existence

Life Will Move Me, When Movement Is Required

I don't want to talk any more
Neither do I want to move, or respond, or react

My senses - already replete
with tree branches, birds and the sound of the rain - 
need no further stimulation

Why elaborate?
How could this possibly be improved upon?

All my years of meddling achieved nothing
Except my own (inevitable) exhaustion

Life will move me, when movement is required

Until then, I'll look at the sunlit water drops on the window pane
And sip this tea. 

Trust

I trust you completely

I was trying to keep some of it out

I was trying to keep some of it in

There I was, squeezed in the middle

So many frontiers to be guarded

So much vigilance required to prevent encroachment

Protecting and surviving, I yearned for reassurance

The vastness then becomes apparent

It’s all so heartbreakingly beautiful

Every birth, every death

Nothing was ever wrong

Nothing has ever been wrong

Such gratitude. Such grace. Such perfection. 

I Know By Heart

How can I not be with you in your pain?

I know – by heart – the bereftness and grief of loss

I, too, have been seared by scalding, murderous rage

I’ve felt that same sting of guilt and regret

And been on intimate terms with shame

What is there to understand?

It happened, and it hurt

(Things happen, and they hurt)

So let it hurt

Yes, to all that is in you

Yes, yes, to all those hurts, all those unfelt feelings

We’ve waited so long, yet it takes so little

When we give up trying to solve it

And simply let it hurt for a while, together.

I Am All That

A coat of many colours has been made for you

Now, I see:

All I’ve ever wanted is to be here, like this

Finally saying yes to all that I am

All that I am

(As if there could be any debate)

I am all this, without distinction or discrimination

No part greater or lesser

Noting denied

Joseph’s brothers despised him, not because he had the coat,

But because he had the courage to wear it

Knowing he was all that

My dear, a coat of many colours has been sewn for you, too.

Life Has No Need of Happy Endings

All life wants is to know itself

To know and to be known

To be seen, touched, sensed, experienced

Life has no need of happy endings:

When you drop your demand for it to please you

When you’re no longer screaming for it to make you happy

It unashamedly delights in itself, in its own sheer miraculousness

Life sends forth its invitation to you every day

And you, making your myriad excuses, usually decline

Because you know that if you say yes

Your very own ten thousand things, your wonderful, labyrinthine creations

(The mes and yous, hims and hers, its and thems)

Will lose their substance, their gravity, around which you revolve

Once you finally stop spinning – even for a moment -

You’ll see that all life is here (for there is nothing Out There)

And unadorned, sublime, it truly has no need of happy endings

When You Wish It Were Not So

You wish to fashion life, to carve it according to your desires

At times, you sculpt carefully, delicately;

A corner rounded off here, an edge whittled away there,

Seemingly without violence

More often though, your cuts are swifter, frantic, more desperate

As you hack away at everything you wish were not so

Despite your efforts to excise all that you dislike

Life – whilst it may appear, at first, to conform to your will –

Has a tendency to remain stubbornly, brazenly whole

It keeps all those discarded, broken, misshapen pieces for you

Knowing that, one day, you will need them: they are essential to your survival

For they are the very thing that your soul most craves

Then, when all the defences have been stripped away

When there’s not a single fibre or sinew left to hold you upright

When struggle, effort and opposition are ablaze on the pyre

And you are prepared to fall on the sword of what was and what wasn’t

You realise there was never anything missing

Despite this loss of incalculable proportions

All is intact. You’re whole. You’re here. 

For All Those Who Have Been Humiliated

I’ve been holding out

Believing that patience is a virtue

When, in truth, I am beyond frustration

To save you from the offence of having to take me as I am

I died a little every day

I toned myself down, made myself smaller

Dulled it all a little

No stride, no demands

I went underground

Thinking I’d find solace in the subterranean depths

Except: this cannot be contained or constrained

Nor should it be

This is what no-one could see

This is what was hidden

Now, out in the daylight, blinking a little uncertainly

Yet breathing that much more easily

I’m thankful.