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Poem – package of personhood

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Remember that you are not
you.

You can have a feeling of being human
and still
the stillness
the silence
creeps in
and then
in that moment you know.

Right now is temporary.
Right now is a blink of the eye.

Right now you are a soul in a vehicle
made of flesh
which itself is made of elements
and chemicals
and mostly water.

The only think that holds this
package of personhood together
is the will of God.

Whether you wanted to be here
or like many you are surprised
and struggling
and a little resentful

This is what the deal is –

Relax and it will go much easier.

It is only temporary.

Poem – path

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The path that leads away, also leads to me.
It isn’t just for me to walk to the unknown.
The unknown now knows how to find me.

We are on the same path, it and I.

It, like the father of the prodigal son, is coming to me.

That which I am seeking is seeking me as well.

It is no longer a one day, someday goal.
It is already here, on this path, with me.

Poem – the room for actual dying.

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Finally I was in the room for actual dying.
Not all the dying are dying.
Some are just practicing.

But finally, now, I’m there.

We’ve waited so long for this room,
this time.

We’ve waited, breathless, hopeless. Helpless.

We couldn’t even drag ourselves here.

We fell on the conveyor belt of life and inched along
until we got here.

I wasn’t supposed to be here.
I was supposed to be an observer.
I was supposed to help.

I was supposed to be the compassionate one,
the listener, the solver of problems.

I wasn’t supposed to be broken,
Empty and aching
Hollow and hurting.

It was a surprise to see myself
in this room of bones
these sacks of flesh
these walking wounded.

I’m not a zombie.
I’m awake.

But veil after veil after veil
reveals, unveils

That I’ve been fooled.
Again.

Poem – Be bread.

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How is bread made?

How much are we like bread?

We have yeast in us.

We are made from elements from the earth.

All that our mothers ate,
all that we eat, makes up our bodies.

Yet there is more.

Bread has to rise. Once all the ingredients are there it has to wait.
It has to sit still and grow.

Then it gets punched down, kneaded,

And then it rests again.

And punched down, kneaded.

And then it gets baked,
put into the furnace, the cauldron,
to transform it
into its true nature, it’s purpose.

Be bread.

Bread that doesn’t sit and wait,
isn’t pushed down, isn’t challenged,

isn’t heated up in the stove of conflict

Isn’t bread,
isn’t of any use to anybody.

Especially itself.

Be bread.

Poem – pain

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There is nothing about pain
that is easy.
There is everything about pain
that is beautiful.

When we are lost
and hurt
and angry
and tired

and just plain sick of it all

there we are, stuck again
with pain.

We might as well pull it up a chair
and make it some tea
and get to know it

Because it isn’t going away.

Pain lets us know we are alive.
Pain lets us know we are transforming into,
evolving into,

The be-ing that we are.

We are human be-ings.
Not human do-ings.

We are who we are.

And sometimes what we are
is a big old bundle of nerves
wrapped up in feelings
that cross over and under
our past and our present and our future
and it just hurts to be alive.
But this pain is our awakening, our beginning, our opening.

Pain is how the Light gets in.

Give thanks for pain.
It is the bell that calls you to yourself.
It lets you know it is time to pray.
It lets you know it is time to make a change.
It wakes you up.

Give thanks.

Poem – Swim.

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We all swim in the sea that is God.
Everything we see
everyone we meet
everything we touch
all that we taste
all that we hear

Is God,
Distilled
Or diluted.

One drop of God is enough
to make a sea
to drown in.
One drop of God is enough
for a puddle
to splash in on a rainy day.

Today is your birthday
and the day you die.

It is all today. It is all this moment.
Every second you are waking up.
Every second you are forgetting.

Swim.

Swim out beyond the markers,
beyond the lifeguards.
Swim out to the hidden rock
just underneath the crashing waves
and rest a while.

Poem- damp roses

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The fact that
we think we need more stuff
is why we worry.

Question everything you need
as quickly as possible.

In the
nest below my head
is God
chirping away

God says

Our end is in our beginning
Grinning at us from the grave.

The only difference between
cradle and coffin
is size.

Both are boxes for bodies.

You can’t take it with you
so drop it all right now.

Take your bouquet of damp roses
now while you
can still smell them.

pain-notes-poem

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Too much acid (stress) not enough sweet (soothing)

Pain is a symptom that the unconscious problems are about to rise to the surface. You are about to have a breakthrough. You are about to be born.

Take away the pain through counseling; the pain may come back in another way. The basic coping methods have not been changed. It is the same as a person who is an alcoholic who is suddenly deprived of alcohol. He may start smoking or over eating.

We have to have a way to fill those holes.

Quit digging them.

Learn to accept them and realize they will never be filled. You are human and holes are normal.

See the desire to turn away from getting better, from whatever positive change you are doing- is your unconscious mind trying to protect itself.

It doesn’t want these hard emotions to come out. It is afraid of being embarrassed. It is not wise enough to know that if they are cleaned out, the job is done. You aren’t embarrassed. It is over.

Or perhaps it is afraid – it thinks it won’t have a job anymore.

Our body craves sweets and fats when we are depressed, which only make us more depressed. If we stand up to it and impose our conscious will, we will choose good things and break the cycle.

The same is true of thoughts and actions.

Look for unconscious habits.

Add intentional good habits to counter them.

Poem – adoption, alone

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We are all adopted. We are all lost, drifting.

No matter how your parents
are related to you
biologically, legally
makes no difference.

We are all just trying to find our way home.

People who are dying often say they just want to go home,
even if they are in their living room at the time.

We all want to go home. We are all lost.
We all crave belonging.

The gang member, the biker, the kid in the black trenchcoat,
all are trying to find themselves.

We are all shuffling, rubbing up against each other
saying the secret passwords of our tribe
hoping they will let us in.

Every one of us suffers from a little bit of abandonment

now and then

every one of us
wonders where we fit in.

Even when we are
together
with family
we know
deep down
we are all faking it.

We all have to find our way
out of here
and back to where we belong.

We all have to find ourselves.

We look to others to do it.
We hope to see our own reflection
in them.

We join clubs, we go to conventions,
and momentarily
we feel home.
Momentarily
we feel that we are understood.

But when we get back from the meeting
back from the show
we are left
by ourselves, alone again.

If we are not happy
by ourselves
we cannot truly be happy
with others.

We are all faking it,
this connection.

We are always trying to go home
By going somewhere we are not.

Poem – kin/kind

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Just because someone is kin to you
doesn’t mean anything.

Kinship without kindness
requires no fealty.

If your brother, mother, father
show you “love” couched in
threats, shame, or guilt
then walk away.

Love that hurts isn’t love.

There is nothing
about the accident of birth
that guarantees
kindness.

There is nothing about
being a sister
that fosters
protection.

If kin are not kind
then “family” is an empty word.

Walk away.

You owe them nothing.

If they treat you
as an accident,
an embarrassment

then that is their loss.
It is not a reflection
of your worth
but of their blindness.

Set a high price for yourself.
even if your “family”
says you are worthless.

Or perhaps even because of it.

If the family you were born into
does not treat you as a friend
but ignores, belittles, embarrasses you

Walk away.

You owe them nothing.

Bullies can be brothers.
Rapists can be relatives.
Murderers can be mothers.

There is no “normal”.
There is no “average”.

There is only you, right now.
If your “normal”
feels wrong
feels unhealthy
feels strange

Walk away.

You can create
a new family
from friends
who know how
to love
the beautiful person
that you are.