The Artist Saves Humanity From A Dry Existence

The linearity of this level of consciousness
Preoccupied by past, present, future
By the rational, practical and ordered mind
By survival and shelter
Is so dry and barren
When left to it’s own devices

It is only salvaged by creativity
By the artist
The poet
The mystic
The wild one
Who goes beyond
Who stumbles into the unknown
Who goes beyond the limit

They bring meaning
Something extraordinary
They shine a light
Remind us of our mystery
Our fragility
Vulnerability
They show us our own soul
And our broken hearts
They cry for us and with us

The artist
The beautiful, crazy ones,
Fit for nothing reasonable
And mostly hopeless
At fitting into anything
Save us from
Rigidity
And the constant sameness
Of things

For god’s sake
Buy their stuff
Share it, rave about it
Love them, tell them you love them
You may be all they have
You may be what stands between them
And giving up

And if you are one of them
Know this
What you do is of value
It doesn’t matter who sees it
Who hears it
Who reads it
What matters is your soul
What matters is you do it
Just do it anyway
Give up on the reason why
Or the outcome
What you do matters
On levels of consciousness
Unseen and invisible
If you get reward on this plane
Great
If you don’t
Great
Do what you must
And do it with your brazen
Broken
Wounded
Wild
Crazy heart wide open.

 

Divine Dance of Form

I have felt the sun rise
Inside my own body
Felt the waning moon
Weeping in my heart
I have had planets
And constellations
Of wild energy systems
Circulating up my spine
The whole universe
Has been inside me
And I have been
Inside the universe

But then something changed
And a new kind of peace arrived

Now I no longer know
Or care
Which is which
Or what is what

For all division
Between this and that
Between inside and outside
Between me and the vast
Has dissolved

There is only one thing
One intelligence
Emerging into form
As many
And disappearing
Back into itself
It is almost impossible
For the mind to grasp
But if you get just a hint
Of what I mean
It will be enough.

Photo by Billy Huynh on Unsplash

Let The Air In

Grace is all around you
In the details and experiences of your life
It may not be there
In the way you desire
And it may even feel
As though you are a victim of life
But if you keep the window open
Just a fraction
The healing wind of grace
Will surely blow in
And bring fresh air
To that airless room
Sooner or later
Grace will have its way.

The Sweetest Invitation

‘Come home,’
The heart whispered,
‘Open and fall into grace.’

‘Don’t trust that voice,’
Taunted the mind,
‘It will lead you to trouble.’

And thus you lived
Between the two
Tyrannized by doubt
Yet drawn by the sweetness of the invitation

Some say love is a choice
But maybe it’s inevitable.

I Met Myself

I met my younger self on the road
He looked at me with suspicion
I looked back with love
He said he was angry
I told him it will pass
He said ‘I hate the world.’
I showed him there is no world outside him
He dragged a bag around filled with stuff
I told him he wouldn’t need it for long
He asked me, ‘What am I going to do?’
I said, ‘Trust.’
‘Trust what?’
‘Life.’

We talked for a long time
I showed him what he had become
How he let go of his grievances
How his wounds turned to gifts
And his confusion turned to clarity
How joyous and forgiving he had become
And how all the pain turned to grace

He had no idea who I was
But his eyes sparkled with teary emotion
When our encounter came to an end

We hugged and drifted back to our journeys
swear I saw a skip in his step as he disappeared
Into the distance.

The End of the Guru and the Return of God

God has come down from on high
And now sits quietly
In surrender
Inside the wounds
In sorrow and in defeat
All elevation gone
Almighty now the lowly one
Buried in the dirt of the broken
Down amongst the slaves
The pedestal lies abandoned
Shattered into a million pieces
By endless betrayal
Man sold you God
In his own image
And now He is dead
‘It’s a suicide, They cried.
‘God is dead!’ They wailed.

No, God has returned
To true home inside
The humble heart
God was never a man
Never a guru
Never religious
Never almighty
Never on a pedestal
God was stolen
From inside each of us
Throughout history
Stolen from ordinary humble heart
Of each human being
Woman and man alike

And now His story is over
Thus and thus
There is no need for the Guru any longer
For God can come home
Without us seeking and searching
For something we imagine
We don’t have.

Tear Down The Imaginary Walls

Don’t build a wall around yourself
Like everyone else
Imagining it as a defense
Against a hostile world
The true effect of such action
Is to imprison you
To lock in your tenderness
Beauty and vulnerability
Without those
Life will never be be full and sweet
The light will dim
And you will live in a kind of twilight
Of pretense

Tear down all the walls
Brick by brick
Be vulnerable and tender
Court your inner beauty
Grace and wonder
Love yourself
No matter what
Refuse to be defined
Or limited

Throw open the doors
And fly into the world
As your radiant self
No matter who you are
Or how broken you are.