life: acoustic & amplified

shadow dancing

I am the darkness that is light

I am the shadow that is dancing

                                                  – Gaia Blooming

The angels you’ll have to wrestle with most often
are no strangers:
they’re your anger, fear, control, defensiveness,
your despair, blame, insecurity, avoidance.
You won’t get away without a fight.

They may also be God’s forgiveness,
the Beloved’s absolute acceptance,
God’s serenity in the face of your betrayal,
God’s accompaniment in your troubles.
You won’t accept them without a fight.

You’re not wrestling with what’s happening;
you’re wrestling with your feelings about it:
not the problem but its difficulty,
not the suffering but how you take it personally.
The angels are not your world, but your self.

So wrestle. Grab them firmly.
Feel their breath on your neck,
their body against yours,
the weight of their intent.
Let your sweat mingle.

Learn their moves.
They’re your sparring partner,
not out to destroy you
but to shove you into the face of God.

Who knew divine intimacy
could be so hard?

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

I said to Poetry: “I’m finished
with you.”
Having to almost die
before some weird light
comes creeping through
is no fun.
“No thank you, Creation,
no muse need apply.
I’m out for good times –
at the very least,
some painless convention.”

Poetry laid back
and played dead
until this morning.
I wasn’t sad or anything,
only restless.

Poetry said: “You remember
the desert, and how glad you were
that you have an eye
to see it with?* You remember
that, if ever so slightly?”
I said: “I didn’t hear that.
Besides, it’s five o’clock in the a.m.
I’m not getting up
in the dark
to talk to you.”

Poetry said: “But think about the time
you saw the moon
over that small canyon
that you liked so much better
than the grand one – and how suprised you were
that the moonlight was green
and you still had
one good eye
to see it with

Think of that!”

“I’ll join the church!” I said,
huffily, turning my face to the wall.
“I’ll learn how to pray again!”

“Let me ask you,” said Poetry.
“When you pray, what do you think
you’ll see?”

Poetry had me.

“There’s no paper
in this room,” I said.
“And that new pen I bought
makes a funny noise.”

“Bullshit,” said Poetry.
“Bullshit,” said I.

– Alice Walker

 

I bow to anyone who has the courage to stay with their doubt when the whole world is pathologising it, urging us to go ‘beyond’ doubt, calling it evidence of our ‘lack of evolution’.

I bow to anyone who has the nerve to hold fear close, when every guru and self-help teacher is judging us, shaming us, trying to lead us into some fearless state (a state that’s secretly at war with fear).

I bow to anyone who can be present with their anger, breathe into its burning core, allow it in, even when the mind is spinning old stories of ‘unsafe’ and ‘bad’ and ‘damaged’ and ‘unspiritual’.

I bow to anyone who can be fully present to their sorrow, even if it’s for the 573th time, even if everyone around them is telling them to ‘cheer up’ or ‘stop wallowing’ or ‘raise their vibration’.

– Jeff Foster

 

Blessed are those who refuse to listen

It takes time to empty your ears

of the spoken toxic intention

to hold your own sweet knowledge

truth for one

is not truth for all

❤

Blessed are those who refuse to listen

It takes strength to say no

to the path of least resistance

presented as the fastest route to get there

you can take any road

if you don’t care where you’re going

❤

Blessed be those who refuse to listen

It takes power to stay the course

to write your words

to speak your passion

to be loyal and true

to believe in what you believe in

beyond the set formulas of the mass

to allow for the unlimited possibles

when nothing is certain

anything is possible

………

and I say..

star light star bright

I wish I may I wish I might

Have this wish

I wish tonight

❤

Amy Lloyd