Adia

I can feel the dance of Life
churning from my center Chakra.
A celebration of resilience,
A declaration of both Miracle
and Miracle Worker.

The product I have paid for
with endless tears and terror.
All the Love I once kissed goodbye
returns with a sharp jab
from a tiny elbow or heel.

Tiny whisper,
I have never felt more forgiven.

Bypass the Drama

Remember that nothing has any meaning save the meaning you give it.  Repeat this quietly in your mind at any moment of stress or upset:  Nothing has any meaning save the meaning I give it.

This is a variation on the words of Shakespeare, and I first heard it put this way in A Course in Miracles.  These ten words can change your entire experience of life.  They can stop drama in its tracks.  They can cut turmoil and emotional distress in half.  Indeed, they can eliminate them altogether.

Memorize these ten words and let them be your mantra when your day seems to be falling apart - or your career, or your relationship, or anything else that you have so carefully crafted and put into place.  Remember that very often when life seems to be falling apart, it may actually be falling together for the first time.

When as a child I would become upset about things, my mother used to say to me, "How important do you think this will be when you're 90?"  That would slow me down a bit, stopping me from "spinning out" into emotional self-indulgences that did no one (least of all me) any good.

"If you think you'll be sitting in your rocking chair on the front porch at 90 worried about this, then worry about it now.  If you think you'll be upset about this then, be upset about it now.  Otherwise, just let it go."  That's what Mom would say.

I Love those words.  Let... it... go.
Let...
It...
Go...
Just breathe, and relax.

What I am saying here is not to jump into "reaction" mode at the first appearance of negative energy.  Work hard with yourself to stay in the space of "creation".  Realize that what you are seeing may be nothing more than the Law of Opposites playing its effect in the Process of Personal Creation.  Go to a place of gratitude as often as you can... and don't be afraid to use humor as a way to get there.  Self-deprecating humor, I have found, is just the ticket.  It is just, absolutely, the very best.  All I have to do to tamp down upset and unneeded drama in my life is to laugh at myself.  It's great medicine.

Happier than God
-Neale Donald Walsh

See the Perfection

See everything for what it is: the perfect event perfectly timed to provide you with the perfect opportunity to express in the perfect way that which is Perfection Itself.  As it relates to you, personally, perfection is the Self that you have chosen to be, and are now choosing to demonstrate and experience.

This is something that most people cannot admit and refuse to acknowledge, yet it is the truth about you - and God knows it.  What I have learned as a result of my direct interations with God is that I am Whole, Complete, and Perfect just the way I am.  And so are you.

This applies to the saint and the sinner, the angel and the scoundrel.  There are no sinners or scoundrels in God's world.  There are only Individuations of the Divinity, some of whom have forgotten Who They Really Are.

Our opportunity in each golden moment of Now is to use that moment, and all that it holds and offers, to remember Who We Really Are - and then to demonstrate that.  Life gives us the gifts of eternity and infinity so that we might know ourselves in our own experience... and then recreate ourselves anew in the next grandest version of the greatest vision we ever held about Who We Are.

This is the process we call evolution.  This is God godding.

What I am saying here is to judge not, and neither condemn, the people and events being placed before you by life, but rest well in the awareness that you, yourself, have drawn them to you, that you might fulfill life's potential, its promise, and its purpose.

William Shakespeare wrote, "Nothing is evil lest thinking make it so."  He was telling us that a thing is what you call it.  With this insight he gave us the keys to the kingdom.

Happier than God
-Neale Donald Walsh

Living Ghost

It was way too easy,
really.

I put your still wet toothbrush
in the case you never unpacked anyway
next to the cologne with the scent
that will someday sweep past me
on an unsuspecting sidewalk
at an inappropriate moment
and make my knees weak
as I taste your kiss again
And your living ghost
haunts my heart with memories
of what was true
and not what wasn't.

You were instantly in my soul
and evolved into my home.
I gathered you up quickly
but I can never get you out.

Evolution of Truth

I am the body once dead, now alive
and what I will tell you is true.
I am one who on your kindness will thrive
and I've paid what could ever be due.

I am the girl once embalmed in her wine,
who's woken from decades of sleep
to feast on your truth and to thoughtfully dine
on what is both heartfelt and deep.

I am the Spirit from far beyond here
and my purpose will one day be done.
To show you that there is nothing such as fear.
In reality, we are all One.

Silence in D Minor

I like the sound of Me now.
Melody,
Rhythm.

I play alone.
I sing louder than before.
Knowing that sometimes,
we play in unison
far apart.

The sun is awake
and the morning coffeeness
is floating gracefully around me
like the ghost of a passionate lie.

I sing a bit longer,
louder still.
Songs I know you know.
Hearing your harmony
so complimentary even when
I hid from my voice and my Self.

I hear an echo
of a classical interlude
you threw in for a laugh,
when we were like
limitlessly powerful magnets.

I am painted all over with you
and sometimes
every song
makes me cry.

Ungrateful

I am invisible when hungry,
silent when I cry.
Paid visits for my humor,
and Loved if I will lie.
I'm tired from my travels,
pitied for my health.
Theirs and mine do not come close,
ideas of what is wealth.
I'm left when I am lonely,
desired when I laugh.
Alone when I am needy,
or am in a state of wrath.
I'm constantly self-loathing,
and violently aware
that this life is an illusion,
but it's radically unfair.

Postal Phobic

To Whom it May Concern (or not),
I don't know if we've met.
But you might want to get from me
as far as you can get.

To Whom it May Concern (or not),
I didn't drink today.
Instead I cried a sea of tears,
then packed, and sailed away.

To Whom it May Concern (or not),
I know I look real strong.
But just like you, I need someone
when everything goes wrong.

To Whom it May Concern (or not),
I'm giving this my best.
But you keep saying it's alright
and I feel so damned left.

To Whom it May Concern (or not),
I'm tearing up this note.
'Cause there's no one who gives a shit
about what I just wrote.

I know I'm trying way too hard,
maybe one day I'll learn.
For now go on ignoring me,
To Whom it May Concern.

Unsent Valentine

The coddling continued
far past healthy,
and now an adult child,
you leave empty plates and promises
in every room
and discard your clothes
along with your dignity nightly.
They are strewn about
close enough to the laundry basket
to be maddening in it's purposefulness.

Justify the daily drunk
by working too hard at what means nothing.
But no one deserves
what you do to you.

Fueled by fear,
gratuitous self-deprication,
inevitable annhialation
at everyone else's expense.

You will have been alone
long before you realize
that you're lonely.

Inhumane Society

Most that encounter me
describe me as memorable.
But not in the way
I would like to be remembered.

Most remember me
as one who forgot them.
Many I've collected
like night-club matchbooks
captured on paper,
bound by ink.

I visit them occasionally,
but not when they're lonely.
I remember them
when I feel
like I've forgotten me.

There's a Saying...

Knowing that explanation
rendered the exotic mundane -

Wanting to preserve
the energy of truth
as opposed to expending it's divinity
toward incapable ignorance -

It stayed trapped within:
no less prophetic or powerful
than if it had
escaped her lips.

No Studio Audience

I get rid of money as quick as I can
and anyone can be beautiful
if they pick up a pen or guitar
and say something honest.

The only time I am really in danger
is when I won't stop smiling
and I routinely cry for the world.

Call me on my shit
and I'll surprise myself
with a brilliant spontaneous copout.
But quote me to me,
and ceilings disappear.

Syllables are my satin.
I am an empty challise
and a notebook without a blank page.
I know more about you than you do.
But would it surprise you to learn
that I am aware of my choices?

Contrary to popular belief,
nothing ever lost it's value
because it was enjoyed.

Neil Diamond's Lost Verses

I Loved your dark hair
(mine is softer, and long).
You always were right
(but I Love being wrong).
Your skin made me hungry
(mine keeps me warm).
Your song made me weak
(but my words make me strong).
Your talent could shame me
(my depth fills my soul).
You have expectations
(I have one simple goal).
You attempted to lead me
(but I know the way).
You came 'cause you had to
(but I'm going to stay).
You gave me desire
(but I taught me Love).
You're always a star
(but I'm all that's above).

MySelf Cleaning

For once this isn't therapy,
it's documentation.
You form words into promises
and hand them to me freely,
claiming the past is sealed behind them.
I see that they are hollow now.
Plastic.
Temporary.
Breakable.
And what you actually do
when it comes time for those words
to be redeemed for truth
hasn't changed.
But what I see
(stepping out of your line of fire)
and my chosen acceptance of this
helps me tear myself from your claws
and run toward peace
when I used to wait until you'd left me
a dry carcass,
then roll myself into a bottomless grave.
You, with your self-indulgent tunnel-vision.
Refusal to cop to your own.
A vial of red-hot resentment
in every jacket and roadcase
(in case of emergency).
I am on the other side
of the detour you've insisted on.

Forme

You are a timeless prophet
of the drive-thru variety.
A thrift store poet,
both frantic and pure.
Your tears and your terror
are worthy investments.
The wisdom they've birthed
form delivered promises.

You cringe at concepts
like hell and like evil,
and fall in Love with clouds daily.
Outraged by violence,
kindness is your soul food.

Words were your weapons
but became instruments of peace.
You say desire brings desertion
and failure brings freedom.
Clean and rested but burning,
you take what you want
whether given or not.

I Didn't Write This

Go away, blank page.
Stop staring at me
   with your hole-punch eyes.
Turn yourself over.
Show me the writing on your back.

Stop taunting me
   with your whiteness.
I know what you want,
   paper persistance.
But he is not my ink
   and my hand clutches my pen just fine
   when not holding his.

Don't scream for semantics.
Stop begging me
   for words of disembodied need
   to drown in his constant torture
   to neglect my bigness
   to idolize him like my God,
when he is my equal.

Sheep Don't Speak

It's posessive, but is just apostrophy away
from that which 'tis, and still it means the same thing anyway.
What is indeed is acted out, which means it has been done.
And when we turn around what's now, we see that we have won.
Matter doesn't matter when there isn't any there.
And we can only be now here, when we can be nowhere.
A suffix ends a meaning's path, enough is to suffice.
And fire is an F from ire, ice an N from nice.
We speak in tongues a thousand ways, yet understand not one.
Some are Sun worshippers, and some worship the Son.
We all will be led to one Bliss if we will not be led.
But follow our own highest thought, and follow none instead.
If you want to find the Truth, then hear that which you say.
For everything and nothing mean the same thing, anyway.

Reborn

Enslaved by my struggle for freedom,
held hostage by years of neglect.
Numbed by my acts of self-treason,
pitiful, wounded, and wrecked.

Paralyzed in my psychosis,
void of both reason and Love.
At the height of my female moroseness,
unsure of all things up above.

Faced with the truth that I'm dying,
riddled with anger and fear,
I finally faced the illusion
that bounced back from every mirror.

I saw only Love and true kindness.
I held the small girl that was there.
I saw I'd been living in blindness,
more hurt than one child could bear.

Suddenly, nothing to covet.
I know there's no thing such as hell.
I know I am perfectly nothing,
yet still I am God, just as well.