Throughout our simple lives we meet the most unlikely of characters who become pillars of our existence. Muses for those who allow themselves to become enamored with the desire to find fuel for their lacklusterous lives. They build these pillars high and bestow abnormal praise upon them in an attempt to glorify what they have accomplished due to their blinding light. Are they however truly magnificent? To the ones who deem them as they are. To the ones who view their accomplished archives as exuberance achieved within their good graces. These pillars are viewed as gifts from the Gods. Presents of pain as well as divine mercy achieved through the acts of suffering. For the Gods move mountains but their humbles decreet the process. Do remember though that the most beautiful resurrects from that of a place of pain.
~M
Sunday, August 5, 2012
Monday, July 23, 2012
Shimming through the streets of NYC
As I look back on the last time I posted on here I was in the thralls of some major life changes. A move, an ending, a new life, a renewal and an opening to what was to come. As many who choose to live a spiritual path know, what we hope for, try to create and plan to obtain rarely happen. What does happen is the unexpected, the grace and the letting go in order to live a life more in the flow of the universe. The move vanished after an excruciating 4 months of hard lessons. The ending prolonged onward and the renewal? Well....lets just say that life is a continuous renewal of circumstance. So needless to say after 9 months of heartache, frustration and lackluster feelings I came up with the brilliant idea to take life by the reins once more and live vivaciously. Where did this courageous idea lead me you ask?? Right into the heart of "The Big Apple" on a spiritual discovery of a lifetime. Now I wont condone that one needs to asterbate adventure in order to find a little spiritualism. But I will say that when you have soured of your surrounds what better then to change the scenery. My entire life I have been comprised by a love affair with NYC. For no other reason then the chills I gained every time the city was mentioned or seen. I longed for the excitement and adventure it seemed to loudly boasts. So what better time to make the leap then after months of anticipated drama. In a hours time over a glass of wine with a friend the tickets were bought, the trip was planned and the only details were that we were going without there being any details. True spontaneity!!! As some of you know from the past I have never allowed myself this freedom. However, like a dog who has broken his leash and has had a taste of freedom. I too vow to never go back to my old ways ever again.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Answer The Question Playing In My Mind.....Guess The Truth Within My Heart
Tonight I sit, ponder and wonder. As I caste an image of questionable doubt. Am I what people see me as and what that is I have a doubt. An image of eluding light. A glimpse of glittering spiraling sight. A reflection off someone else's airs. An uncapturing being with flowing hair. A wondrous movement. A bellowing sight. A justified mirage of captivation and hype. A spiritual voice with rhythmic usage. A gentle being or perhaps just a diversion. A breath of air every once in a while. A sensuous taste, part of the experience. A question, a verb, an it or a noun. The thoughts within continue to spiritual down. Until at last I escape into the silence. The peace of what stands before me in conclusion. No more thoughts just restful knowledge from the image that stares back at me. The deep meaning within the pooling eyes. Threads of evidence of wisdom and time. Not hidden from view, nor portrayed in the open. There for viewing if the one glimpsing is truthful. Come a little closure. Step to the side. Look again do you see it this time? Perhaps a guess but just in passing. The truth is there if the time spent is longer then glancing. No. Perhaps not yet but in time. The image will emerge forth with a gentle pride. Fore, all that is needed is deep inside. Looking, waiting, giving time for when the glimpse is justified. Still not pardoned, your guess is incorrect. The question has changed and their isn't time for another attempt. Movement is made on behalf of the one in the mirror. Surrender....your thoughts. Surrender....your fear. Until the game is played again. A standoff remains without a win. The pattern replays itself again and again until persistence allows one with the truth to finally come in.
~M
Tonight I sit, ponder and wonder. As I caste an image of questionable doubt. Am I what people see me as and what that is I have a doubt. An image of eluding light. A glimpse of glittering spiraling sight. A reflection off someone else's airs. An uncapturing being with flowing hair. A wondrous movement. A bellowing sight. A justified mirage of captivation and hype. A spiritual voice with rhythmic usage. A gentle being or perhaps just a diversion. A breath of air every once in a while. A sensuous taste, part of the experience. A question, a verb, an it or a noun. The thoughts within continue to spiritual down. Until at last I escape into the silence. The peace of what stands before me in conclusion. No more thoughts just restful knowledge from the image that stares back at me. The deep meaning within the pooling eyes. Threads of evidence of wisdom and time. Not hidden from view, nor portrayed in the open. There for viewing if the one glimpsing is truthful. Come a little closure. Step to the side. Look again do you see it this time? Perhaps a guess but just in passing. The truth is there if the time spent is longer then glancing. No. Perhaps not yet but in time. The image will emerge forth with a gentle pride. Fore, all that is needed is deep inside. Looking, waiting, giving time for when the glimpse is justified. Still not pardoned, your guess is incorrect. The question has changed and their isn't time for another attempt. Movement is made on behalf of the one in the mirror. Surrender....your thoughts. Surrender....your fear. Until the game is played again. A standoff remains without a win. The pattern replays itself again and again until persistence allows one with the truth to finally come in.
~M
Friday, February 10, 2012
The Lady Lark
As we dive deeper into 2012 the changes just keep coming!! The recent purchase of another home has made allowances for some new year cleaning . As I prepare to end my love affair with my current historical gem, I must say goodbye to some of the items accumulated along the way. This past weekend as I begun to sort and box up contents of the garage I ran across a stack of papers in a far corner. Amongst those papers to my surprise was an undated poem I had written years prior. I'm unsure as to what I was eluding to in the poem, but here it is anyways for your delight.
The Lady Lark
Comes says the lady lark I will sing you a song about a love that once was but somehow went mistakenly wrong. I will sing a tale of sorrow from my bearded breast and from it you will hear of wisdom put to an unfathomable test.
Come says the lady lark sit by me and ponder, about a time where loves heart kept solance in wonder. Years wasted through and through. Still lessons unlearned. True loves hand wipes ones own tears wept through hurt. Inability to break the silence rung true by another. Push and pull the sacred circles thou shall not break. Captured with the burden of love, which doesn't take.
Come says the lady lark I will provide you with a guide. To take away all that hurts and lock it away from you for the time. Answers are not yours until the chime of the golden dawn. So sit on my cherish stump and look beyond the wavy lines. Stand before the palms that appear before innocent eyes. Pure heart, pure soul, no time for pride.
Come says the lady lark let me tell you the tale of another. Whose disposition is taught to fight loves grace and never to surrender. A solider of such, whose lines tell a story of beseech. Whose own story is so convincingly jaded there is no room for their soul to sleep.
Come says the lady lark as it descends from its stance. To capture a glimpse of the love whose hand presumes to continuously feed. I offer you empty promises and words of broken tales. Yet, you continue to feed me the last of your entrails. To give so deeply of yourself when I am only fit to sing. This song of love that once was but somehow went mistakenly wrong.
~M
The Lady Lark
Comes says the lady lark I will sing you a song about a love that once was but somehow went mistakenly wrong. I will sing a tale of sorrow from my bearded breast and from it you will hear of wisdom put to an unfathomable test.
Come says the lady lark sit by me and ponder, about a time where loves heart kept solance in wonder. Years wasted through and through. Still lessons unlearned. True loves hand wipes ones own tears wept through hurt. Inability to break the silence rung true by another. Push and pull the sacred circles thou shall not break. Captured with the burden of love, which doesn't take.
Come says the lady lark I will provide you with a guide. To take away all that hurts and lock it away from you for the time. Answers are not yours until the chime of the golden dawn. So sit on my cherish stump and look beyond the wavy lines. Stand before the palms that appear before innocent eyes. Pure heart, pure soul, no time for pride.
Come says the lady lark let me tell you the tale of another. Whose disposition is taught to fight loves grace and never to surrender. A solider of such, whose lines tell a story of beseech. Whose own story is so convincingly jaded there is no room for their soul to sleep.
Come says the lady lark as it descends from its stance. To capture a glimpse of the love whose hand presumes to continuously feed. I offer you empty promises and words of broken tales. Yet, you continue to feed me the last of your entrails. To give so deeply of yourself when I am only fit to sing. This song of love that once was but somehow went mistakenly wrong.
~M
Monday, January 2, 2012
The Birds of The Garden
As I finished my last yoga session of the day, taking a moment to feel the warm Cali sunlight streaming through the large front window. I instantly became captivated by the emerald green sparkling off the backs of a pair of hummingbirds fluttering before me. "Hello, my beloved friends" I called out. Welcoming their high spiritedness and vigorous as they carried on beckoning me to join in their gallant dance. Taking only but a moment to decide that today would be a fine day to join in and do some gardening.
I quickly grabbed my flip flops and throw open the french doors to allow the warmth outside to greet my body. 80 degrees in January is what I call perfection!!!! Picking up the watering hose and delightfully giving the delicate plants a spray down, I noticed the remains of aphids upon my heirloom climbing roses. Not one to use pesticides, I had decided to leave the former summertime problem to Mother Nature to sort out for me. Choosing to resort to chemicals if need be as an end result.
However, Mother Nature had handled the problem beautifully by inviting a hundred or more finches to feed. As I washed the remains off the roses, filled the bird baths and fountains with fresh water, I delightfully watched as the birds joyfully began to bathe. Such simplicity found amongst these tiny creatures. As they went about their business, unaware of my presence. Chasing one another around, indulging upon the harvest bird seed left out for them and enjoying the camaraderie of one another. I listened to their rhythmic song played out as it lifted my heart and allowed my soul to sail to a space far from where my feet touched the ground. As I gracefully slumped down, soon finding myself in a lotus position, I begin to meditate.
Following the minut breeze as I inhaled and exhaled a 4-4-8 sequence. Instantly my third eye began to warm and my crown gently opened to my higher self. Quietening my ego for a moment in time to receive the valuable answers I always welcome receiving. I released any form of control as I soared through colors and images, allowing my body this time to further unfold. As I gently opened my eyes about a good twenty minutes later, I bowed my head this time in Namaste to the Birds Of My Garden (or perhaps theirs) for beckoning me to come join them today. To change the pace and instead of systematically meditating on the mat, to get really grounded with my bottom grounded to....well, the ground.
Today I give gratitude, not only to the tiny creatures but to Spirit as well for the ingenious way of keeping me committed to my thoughts, wants and desires. It was only yesterday in which I mentioned briefly my idea to want to relinquish routine. To experience life and what I needed to achieve, anywhere....everywhere. Instead of through how, "I thought" it had to be done. Today was a perfect example of that fruition. As I focus on keeping my mind clear, my heart open and my thoughts simple as well as pure, I excite over the possibility of further growth. Today the Birds Of The Garden will be shown my ever growing gratitude for them, by receiving a handful of blackberries along with their seed.
~M
"No Bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings"
William Blake (1757-1827)
I quickly grabbed my flip flops and throw open the french doors to allow the warmth outside to greet my body. 80 degrees in January is what I call perfection!!!! Picking up the watering hose and delightfully giving the delicate plants a spray down, I noticed the remains of aphids upon my heirloom climbing roses. Not one to use pesticides, I had decided to leave the former summertime problem to Mother Nature to sort out for me. Choosing to resort to chemicals if need be as an end result.
However, Mother Nature had handled the problem beautifully by inviting a hundred or more finches to feed. As I washed the remains off the roses, filled the bird baths and fountains with fresh water, I delightfully watched as the birds joyfully began to bathe. Such simplicity found amongst these tiny creatures. As they went about their business, unaware of my presence. Chasing one another around, indulging upon the harvest bird seed left out for them and enjoying the camaraderie of one another. I listened to their rhythmic song played out as it lifted my heart and allowed my soul to sail to a space far from where my feet touched the ground. As I gracefully slumped down, soon finding myself in a lotus position, I begin to meditate.
Following the minut breeze as I inhaled and exhaled a 4-4-8 sequence. Instantly my third eye began to warm and my crown gently opened to my higher self. Quietening my ego for a moment in time to receive the valuable answers I always welcome receiving. I released any form of control as I soared through colors and images, allowing my body this time to further unfold. As I gently opened my eyes about a good twenty minutes later, I bowed my head this time in Namaste to the Birds Of My Garden (or perhaps theirs) for beckoning me to come join them today. To change the pace and instead of systematically meditating on the mat, to get really grounded with my bottom grounded to....well, the ground.
Today I give gratitude, not only to the tiny creatures but to Spirit as well for the ingenious way of keeping me committed to my thoughts, wants and desires. It was only yesterday in which I mentioned briefly my idea to want to relinquish routine. To experience life and what I needed to achieve, anywhere....everywhere. Instead of through how, "I thought" it had to be done. Today was a perfect example of that fruition. As I focus on keeping my mind clear, my heart open and my thoughts simple as well as pure, I excite over the possibility of further growth. Today the Birds Of The Garden will be shown my ever growing gratitude for them, by receiving a handful of blackberries along with their seed.
~M
"No Bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings"
William Blake (1757-1827)
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