Orientation.

Orient yourself;
Chair and desk,
Moraine, and spinning, bursting stars,
Beginning of time, yours, now.


How was it that you found yourself,
Right then, in the meadow;  your arm a
Windbreak, haven for a red dragonfly?
'Needed you, as others have.
All the way along...


How is it, through all of this;
Storms, shrapnel, endurance,
That you have somehow
Tapped into the swelling ache?
'Heart's beauty and tempo.
Relentless...


How will it be to awaken with
Calm ecstasy,
When you find you have landed?
'Found your haven.
Finally...


Finally.


When?
Where?
And under which star?

Wiring.

There is no trick.
There is no scheme afoot.
No stutter in the turn of the earth,
Bent on your imbalance.
The answer to all of it is still
Right there inside of you,
Steady as it has always been.


You knew it earlier on.
You did.
You knew to let the winter wind kiss your cheeks.
It was natural, an easy tilt to marvel at perfect flakes,
And to twist to examine the footprints that confirmed you.
A smooth, tender part of it all, you
Processed the beauty of the world and 
Looped it back; your very heart wired in to the
Thrumming pulse at the centre;
It kept you safe,
It kept you lithe,
It kept you deep in the adventure.


But now, for some reason, you think it strange,
'Not for you ... when nothing could be
Further from the truth.
Remember your wiring.  It's still there.
The thrumming hasn't changed;
'Hasn't quieted.
'Never, ever weakened,
All this time waiting for you to come back.


Just shed your bark.
Relax your shoulders so your ribcage can move.
Soften ... and your heart will dovetail right back into it;
Match up with the pulse as if it never missed a beat.
And it will flood you.
It will flood you with wave upon wave of the 
Love that is right here for you; never ending.
And you will realize that your place in all of this is still,
Safe,
Lithe,
Deep in the adventure ...
As it is for all of us.


The others?  Those that have pushed you to
Cracking with trouble and bluff?
You can't wire for them.  You can't.
They wont' let you.
That's how this works ...
But in tending to yourself;
Loving yourself,
Sincerely,
Intensely,
There is a chance, if they get close enough;
Curious of your bliss,  they'll get
Washed, drenched in your waves,
And wire in without even knowing it.
No trick.
No scheme.
... no extra effort.


Just you.

For Winter Solstice...

Feel her.  

Feel her roll, and sigh.
Gently, gently feel her under the stars,
Shifting, turning, sighing in the dark;
Deep, deep in well-earned slumber.

A shame to not look on her, to not 
Be there and watch as she dreams;
Remembers the summer's work,
Autumn's glory, and
Delights in themes of spring's surprise.

Hold her close, our earth, in all her beauty,
As we nod tonight to the sun and its return.

Brief,

This moment of change, tipping toward
The blink of dawn;
A flicker, now charged to beat the last,
Marking the coming of puffed days,
Fuller and fuller of trumpet's call;
Duty, adventure, and the hunt for love's blush.

The night gives way, with each of her turns
Until, once again, she finds the longest day
Adorned in sun's tender shadows.


But now, tonight, we are a half from that,
And though eager to pass right to spring,
Slow here at winter's door. 

Take stock of yourselves.

Soften your edge, and rest, because
You too have turned;
Weathered the seasons, some easily,
Others with great effort.

Those triumphs you have had, those successes that have
Somehow lost their vividness, faded–
Bring them forth again.
Sharpen their images and make no bones about just how
Important they are; each and every one.

And challenges?

All of us.

Be grateful for these, and look to them, depend on them
To summon the very best that is in you;
Your strength, your brilliance, and the
Realization of just how powerful you are;

– and you really are.


Through all of this, adventure, breath, comes the opportunity,
The gift, at just the right time, to 
Tap into something bigger than all of us;
A wellspring of love, rooted deep within the earth.
It's always been there, turning with her, but now
Tonight, we can feel it tugging at us,
Offering its embrace and guidance as this dark
Gives way to light.


Take it;
Shake free of the past.
Brush off the old dust and tedium, and
Emerge. 

Emerge to the new light, with all of this
Love, and grace, and beauty;
Fill your lungs– you are

Remarkable.


Stand and raise your glass.
Welcome the sun, the lengthening day, and the
Fresh chance to move ahead with clear perspective,
A re-energized heart, each,
And the fondness and respect we have for each other, here,
And those dear to us, presently, elsewhere;


To the sun!

Hold Tight, Your Arms...

Hold tight, your arms around me my friend.
There is no rush and I am not brittle;
But the tender of me lacks lately.
'Could stand to stop and be held up a minute,
If you could, I mean, if you wouldn't mind.
I think it is a tiredness has taken hold;
'Found its way in for some reason.
'Silly, all of this.


Oh that?  Not tears my friend.  Not me.
No, I think a virus perhaps, or dust...
'Stay near a while, just to be sure,
Sit here close. Sit here.  Close.
I feel a wave of something;
Gladness that you're here,
Just to be sure of course.
Ridiculous, these eyes.


I know, 'sounds crazy, but humour me;
My hands, hold ... I am trembling, aren't I?
It must be a chill, I'm sure, nothing more.
Not loneliness shrouded in.
'Couldn't be.  Not me.
It's nice of you though, holding my hands.
'Funny, me being lonely!
'Awfully nice of you.


Tell me again, that thing you said;
"The heart's truth leads even in chaos.
Trust, trust, be brave and trust,"
Or something like that.  I can't remember exactly.
No, it's not a big deal.
It's just taking a long ... well, it's been a long time.
That's all.
'Not a big deal.  I can certainly manage.
I can.  I ...


I'm glad you're here.  You have no idea.

The Giddy Wind.

Such a thought;
Go back and start from there; then fly ahead.
Do it; catch the biggest wind.
Pick a point when you can remember the 
Smell of dirt on your knees,
The feeling of running your hand through your curly hair,
And how glad you were that your little tanned arms were
As strong as they were.
No one else was around;
It was you, in the meadow, with the sun and a
July breeze, giddy to be there with you.
Pick this point and just come ahead from there,
From your perfectness.
Skip everything in between;
So little of it lit you up.
That July breeze would be splendid, and
Absolutely glad to help ...
It loved you so much.


Or the pond;
Catch the wind that sent ripples, like kisses, across the pond
When the tadpoles lined the shore like black lace, and
If you were lucky, a snake under the sweeping walnut tree;
Always a garter or a copper belly, but they swam like pythons...
The afternoon spent drifting on the raft, 
Teasing the stuck shade of that tree,
Watching the clouds and the boatmen bugs, and content 
Not to be in the house, so dark and thick, even on a sunny day.
That wind, that very wind was part of your stories and
Moved you along, cooled you, loved you,
Would be so glad to float you ahead.
Yes, skip everything else.  None of it was yours,
Yet it was put upon you; weighing you down instead of 
Raising you up.
This wind; 'drop everything in a heartbeat to help you.


The winter wind,
Wound around the door of your snow fort;
Made the most horrendous sounds as you
Dug deep in until you could stand,
Mitts sopping, but the quiet, dampening
Hush of the snow pack captivated you,
Soothed you as you dug out your shelves and bed.
So quiet in there.
Your heart; your ravenous little heart was all you could hear,
Until you finally emerged to the howling, impressed wind;
Blustering and busting, wanting nothing more than to
Send you on ahead;
To pick you up and carry you over all of those
Disappointments; drifts of sadness.
This one loved you, loved all of you.
This wind celebrated your
Braveness, appetite,
Saw you look to the sky,
Notice the flakes, and
Knew that you felt it and all that it was made of ...


Then it confesses; these winds, all the same wind;
Saw you, waited for you to escape the house each day;
Caressed you, your brilliance,
Your radiance in early days and then watched with
Such sadness as you 
Disappeared within yourself, out of wind's reach.
It watched you through the seasons and the years;
Your meadow, your raft, and your fort turned to a 
Somnambulistic ramble down concrete streets.


... until a short while ago, someone woke you up.
They woke you up and guided you,
Sleepy head, to feel that wind again, and
Delight;
Delight in its recognition of
Who you really are.
And though you can't go back and start from the meadow, 
You can acknowledge and trust in why this wind,
This ever-faithful wind, loved you so very much;
And is, once again, "giddy" to be with you.

I'll See You When I Can.

Drop to your knees at the setting of the sun,
... If the day it marks only joins the last to the next.
Describe to me, the hours, impenetrable and unyielding,
Stuffed, gag-full, with minutes and seconds,
Bound and bruised to see you fail.
Mimic your preparations, the approach you have planned,
For when the conditions are just right.


And I will see you when I can.
But I cannot wait.


Unwrap your hands and reveal your wounds
Nourished as you crawl,
Searching for the better launch.
Fold yourself deeply into your layers
Against the penetrating chill of unfamiliarity;
If that's the way you see it.
And finally, give in and step down.
Swallow the mantra to endure and settle;
'More room for others if you withdraw.


And I will see you when I can,
If I can find you.


Because you see ...


I have decided to mark my day with the rising of the sun,
And fly, with no hesitation, to
Unpack the hours and minutes;
Scattering them, impatient to exhaust each one,
My imperfect efforts finding a way in, somehow.
And gradually, I am picking up speed;
I am  picking up speed towards monumental change.
I can taste it; feel it as its distance crumbles and the
Crated idea of emerging into wholeness, vibrant,
'Thought only for others,
Falls open to ...
Me.


The action IS difficult; I don't blame you at all for
Hesitating,
Avoiding;
Frustration, fear expected, but
In the committing ...
In the absolute committing to it;
The belief that I wasn't born to beige,
Momentum grows too strong to withdraw.  And the
Unfamiliarity that you see, is the
Thrilling possibility that I see;
Intensity and pulse bathed in the
Warm, rich texture;
The sensuality of truth.


There are days that do seem only to separate others,
But the shifts and footholds,
Each discovery and achievement peels closer and closer
To ... to bliss.
And believe me, my friend, I will tell you all about it.
I won't leave anything out.


... But I'm just not sure when I can get all the way back to
Where you are.

Default Setting.

That connection you have; your love,
Don't set it aside for 'just the right time.'
Don't keep it only to emerge and fill while
Soaking in the symphony and the swell of the strings.
That's a given.


You know and expect the feeling triggered by 
That painting you love, the film, whatever art or
Pastoral setting it is that soothes and fires your soul.
That's easy.


And of course, the most direct route; to be woven into
Someone's arms, captivated by their eyes and
Caressed by the soft tones of pure romantic love.
That is bliss.


But so much of your day is spent between the moments;
Moving from scene to scene;
Navigating the margins, the pauses;
Time that, for some reason, you feel that it's
Okay not to be connected.
It's okay to get from here to there, to be stiff and wound,
Walking, moving in jagged, awkward, wrenching steps,
Or you feel there is nothing wrong with managing daily routine
As if you didn't exist.


But imagine.
Imagine if you allowed yourself, expected to feel this love,
This connection throughout your day.
You are wired for it.
In fact, there is every reason to believe
This is the point of it all.
There is nothing, absolutely nothing that is more important.
So ...
Summon it.
Beckon, right here,
Right in the middle of the grocery store,
Underneath the sucking neon lights;
Find it.
Make this connection, this feeling of rooting to the
Earth and its love for you,
Make it your default setting.
Make it the constant that takes you through your day.


Wouldn't it be lovely to be wrapped in the feeling,
The embrace normally sparked reveling in the 
Sun's morning kiss;
The amazement, the kindness, your place in it all,
... as you fill your cart in the soup aisle?


That, through all the struggle, is your goal.