Even though
I tended to my plants
With unfailing care
They still withered
And died
Too soon.
Nevertheless
New life sprouted quickly and
Once again life bloomed.
Death, I learned
Is not the end of life
But its release.
So, mourn not my end
For what will end
Was never life.
A wise soul once said:
“You’re never more alive
Than when you’re dead.”
The world’s events reported
In black and white
Text
Yesterday’s stories recounted
With supporting images
All designed to make a claim
Over a reality
Apparently experienced
By ‘those’ and ‘them’.
How depraved, defeated
And devastated is our world
It seems…
Reality exits when
Imagination comes to play
I can’t tell anymore
If what I call reality
Is a construct of my
Perverted imagination.
I wonder if I should
Be feeling guilty or foolish
For being the proverbial human
Enjoying the cherry blossoms of the tree
On whose branch I hang precariously
Suspended between imminent death
But ah! This moment is a gift…
Alas! The newspapers will not talk about
That which is not yet an event.
A crisis threatens you
With loss…
A loss of meaning and purpose;
Or with a loss of resources
And reserves.
A crisis reminds you
That life comes with no guarantees
That to live means to incur debt
That must be repaid
To all that sustains, nourishes and protects you.
A crisis teaches you
To live with deference
To wait and to be grateful
To effectively transact the business of life
By refusing to bank on it.
A crisis inaugurates
Your liberation
From the smallness of certainties
To a realm of possibility
A crisis is a time to live consciously.
A crisis conveys you
From the narrow alleys of fear
To the vast open skies of promise
You renew your relationship
With trust and faith.
A crisis is integral
To the design of humanity.
It reminds us that to simply be
One need not be accomplished
Just alive and inspired.
Growth is not in itself a virtue
And to seek it for its own sake
Is to have misunderstood its purpose.
We grow in and through
Movements that yield self-discovery,
Realization… a deeper seeing.
True growth is a natural process
Not a simulated artifice
It’s not a measure on a scale.
Leave things alone;
Let them simply be-
Immersed in time and space.
Allow them their abrasions
Allow them their struggles
Allow them their fight to be.
Growth is not merely expansion;
At its heart
It’s a search for possibility.
The counsel of thought
Has its limitations
Its resources are often inadequate
Where then do you find a way?
Where do you find an exit?
Adjacent to thought is a questioning mind
When the heart soars to an unknown
And unseen power…
This power offers no counsel
Other than its silence.
In its silence, we can hear ourselves
In its silence, we find no answers
In its silence, the mind ceases to question
In its silence, we stand absolved.
Things are as ordinary
Or extraordinary
As our faith makes them.
Man without faith
Is a corpse-
Dead to all that
Is alive around him.
He’s unable to see
Beauty, truth and possibility…
And the providence
That is packaged in the smallest gesture.
What conveys our actions?
Wherefrom our words arrive?
What is the origin of our thoughts?
On whose estate is our inner life being lived?
(It should be our own).
We may move about aimlessly…
But thanklessly and without promise-
Now that is to be rudderless.
Your faith is the ground on which you stand
It is the basis of your being
The purpose by which you live.
Why do you wish
For things to be different…
Better…?
Effort. Accomplishment. Success-
What if you’ve got it
All wrong?
Dissatisfaction, it is said,
Drives progress; it advances us…
But towards what?
The trajectory of progress
Is not a line, it’s a circle.
You come back to where you started.
You wonder…
What was the point
Of your heroism, your battles?
Whom were you fighting?
Why does your victory
Feel like a defeat?
The world has nothing to offer
Your strategies, your goals
Are aimed at the illusory.
The world will neither make
Nor protect you.
It is you who will come to shape it.
To feel diminished by the world
Is to be ignorant
Of your own vastness.
It is to have carried with you
A false knowledge
Based on your ignorance.
Break away from the shackles of thought
And see that your seeing
And know that your knowing
Is that which gives
Contour, purpose and spin
To the world that inhabits you.
Is there an external problem
Without an internal counterpart?
Can we tell what is part
And what is whole?
Do we know where to search
For what we seek?
Do we know that what we know
Is only what we think we know?
Can we admit that we don’t understand
What is love?
Can we stop looking for refuge
In the answers
And instead
Stand in the discomforting presence
Of our questions?
For the love of a child
You seek counsel
From the child within you.
For the love of a child
You let go
Of unworthy battles.
For the love of a child
You know that to be able to see things clearly
You will have to see them with love.
For the love of a child
You hope and pray and work
Towards re-building your world.
For the love of a child
You surrender your adulthood
In order to return to naivete.
An apology
Is nothing more
Than the reaction
Of the same mind
That expressed itself
Through plot, through outburst
Through accusations
And drama.
Therefore, don’t be mistaken-
An apology is not
A change of heart;
It’s a change of mood.
It’s a quick and effective recourse
In our human society
Intent on having its way.
An aberration is wasted
If it is hastily buried
Under the grain of an apology.
A challenge to our delusions;
To be out of character
Is to get a glimpse
Of the actors
Outside of their act.
Wit. Wisdom. Wonder... 