Spoken-Word

Silly boy – Audio

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I read this again today.  I was talking to a Soul who needed this message.  It was something I needed to hear again my Self.  So many times we attach ourselves to people or perhaps allow people to attach themselves to us out of convenience or lack of self knowledge.  Hoping that somehow they might fill the empty places or satisfy unformed and vague longings in us. We use and are used because we seek in the other what can only be discovered in the heart.  Even in relationships the journey is our’s.  It is our responsibility not the other.  They too are responsible for the unfolding of their path, not us.

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Silly boy, never ever be just something else, somebody else has on their list

Why would you pause along that way

There are no sunsets on lists, or sighs, or laughter, or sweet deep kisses, even true friendship is too large to fit there

Never wait your turn as though you are a beggar at the door

If your appearance is not the sunrise there then perhaps you have again knocked at the wrong place

Welcome mats do change with the season and their promise is sometimes contingent on whim or convenience

Just because welcome was spoken does not guarantee that it will be granted

Leave your gift on that doorstep.  You will not be diminished for the gifting, but leave it and go

The Beauty is calling, She beckons and silences the spirit. She calls from a place beyond the surface of things

Deep calls to deep, move out of the shallows, follow the sun’s rising through the early morning’s mist

Would they change you or rearrange you, bid you wait, or take your turn

That is not your path, those are not your companions

Your way is upon the trackless waters, there you may find companions far away from the shallows

There will be great joy in the meeting for they too seek that which calls to you

They understand the deep and those groanings for which there are no  words

Leave your gifts at the door, if they would journey they will come, if there is doubt though, beauty will not live there, only lists

You will know your companions for they will beam in your brightness and when you are adrift their clapping will again fill your sails

All else is false promise and the use of you to fill holes in a shallow list, silly boy

The Kingdom of Both – The Red Book

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Image result for pathway razors edge

Two countries I knew
Two roads I walked
Both were exquisite and fine like the edge of a razor. Exquisite was the joy. Exquisite was the pain
Both flayed me, opened my soul to heights and to depths for which there are no words
One was ruled by the Sun
One was ruled by the Moon
One was filled with light, and joy, and the thrill of growing things
It is hard to breathe there, the air is thin and the light hurts your eyes
One was dark with a sweet, saturating, sadness heavy as the earth
It’s hard to breathe there under that weight, in the stillness, in the dark
One Kingdom promised the answer to dreams and desires of the heart
One Kingdom answered the dread of my deepest fears

Back and forth, back and forth, long I journeyed the bi-polar pathway
As high as I soared, even touching the sun, that far I fell, down, down, down
Longing’s ache, movement, hope’s teasing tug pulled me into the glorious fire, my wax melted and I fell
Great was the fall, epic was the ruin, dry, dusty, darkness, solitude, empty hollow ache
Long I lay there, time’s ticking warped, stretched into intervals that only the shifting Earth can reckon
As the mountains grew and continents shifted, dust settled over me, nothing grew but the rocks
Only silence and solitude and stillness were my companions, grief my nourishment
Then something stirred in me, a movement, an energy, a foreign force that frightened yet awakened me
I rose from the dark earth and made my way into the place between places, that space between light and dark
A region rarely traversed. The powerful pull of the poles seeking to claim me for the left or the right, the good or the bad, for gods or the devils
But I refused, something had changed, I rebelled against them both and was reborn on the utterance of the word No
Neither was my mortal home, neither was the land of my true habitation

The new way was neither/nor, but Both at once
The path, at first unstable, unfathomable, impossible like a drunk man on a tightrope
I learned to let go my clinging, my addiction to knowing, to allow the currents of emotion to wash over me
Stillness, the only way to move in that place between the paradox
And as I surrendered movement I was moved by forces larger than I, changed and rearranged
My pattern resonating with that which has called to me from forever
The lie of the either/or is tenacious and It’s powerful spell can only be starved slowly, never broken
The black sorcery practiced by the ancients continues still, hidden in view
The promise, the lure of distraction, life lived falsely, divided, unaware, asleep on the square, a bird in a cage
The Kingdom of Both is among us, can you not perceive it? Awaken to reality’s dream
Come walk with me here. I need a companion. We need companions to help us balance along the razors edge
Come and lay down your striving, lose all, and find everything here in the Kingdom of Both

Internal Revenue Service (Audio)

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IRS_logo

I don’t feel like writing

At least not from that place I usually do

For all that has passed between the Inside and Out must be accounted for

Books will have to be reconciled

Accounts receivable and those owed need attention

My Internal Revenue Service has called me in

Hundreds and thousands of transactions

What did I profit?  What have I lost?

Good and Bad, opposite sides of the same coin

A medium of exchange, but not the currency of the Soul

The bureaucrats tally as I struggle to explain with no paper-trail

There is currency now in my words

They create a lasting record

A new Order will be created

New precepts will provide the foundation

A new government will arise

Not based on the Dialectic

Hegel understood but only in part

Now  Integration, Re-creation, and  Consummation

The bedrock cleared and cornerstones laid

Behold, a New thing

Yet even so, old accounts must be settled

To: The Muse – The Poet (Audio)

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In the moments just before ink marks the page I know that words will fall short.  For who could capture Her with mere paper and ink?  But I am compelled to try hoping that my attempt, though clumsy and sophomoric, may in some small way reflect back  the beauty that I have recognized in Her.

She is new to me, yet I have known her forever.  Even so I have just begun to experience, to comprehend  Her.  She has captured my attention and stirred longings thought bruised beyond rising.  It is now Her face I seek, Her call that I await.  And in the between times I remember, I wonder, I muse.

I remember Her form, Her fragrance, the way She fits my body.  I wonder how it is that she has so easily assumed this place with me.  I muse about the meaning of this dance begun between she and I.

With Me she is familiar.  She is bold but not brazen.  Her confidence is that of assumed kinship and intimacy.  How is it that She feels like Home?  How is it that a raging passion and peaceful sweet rest can co-exist?

She is dainty yet powerful.  I have watched a dull room energized at Her approach.  Men straighten themselves in hopeful anticipation of Her glance or smile, grateful for any small attention.  Women appraise Her, hoping for an ally, dreading competition with Her light.

Her smile is a magic thing.  It is infectious and sensual.  Her mouth shaped in anger is pouty and full beneath a furrowed brow.

Her movement is fluid and natural as a young doe.  She is at ease and alert.  She is finely wrought and utterly feminine, Her spirit at home in Her flesh.

To be near Her awakens slumbering passion.  To be apart calls forth the Poet, the Bard.  She now has claimed Her place in His story.  She is now set apart.  Sleeping Beauty can now awaken, at least for the moments that the Poet can guard Her heart.

But harken to me!  It is a dangerous thing to call forth the Poet and awaken the Princess.  The story will unfold with many unseen twists and turns.  Exquisite will be the rapture.  Exquisite will be the torment.  Yet that is the nature of the play.  Both comedy and tragedy are required.  Such things are always risky.  But perhaps the Poet and his Muse can create between them a place where the songs can live.

Talking to the Wind (Audio)

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This is an older song lyric and came out of a period of solitude.  The theme of wind and Soul reminded me of it.  So I dug it out.

(Jazz – Blues – Country – some anger/strength which builds to the end. Mayer or Clapton or Marvin Gaye)

(Start fairly soft and pointed)
(Could be spoken over instruments the first time through)

(R) I’ve been gone.
There are just some things a man must do alone.
So if they ask you where I’ve been just look at them and grin
And tell them – He’s been talking to the wind.

(1)I’ve been talking to the wind
Telling her the paces that I’ve been
And though she don’t have much to say
I think I like it best that way
And I can feel her tender touch upon my skin

(R) I’ve been gone.
There are just some things a man must do alone.
So if they ask you where I’ve been just look at them and grin
And tell them – He’s been talking to the wind.

(2)I’ve been singing to the breeze
Songs that have put me on my knees
And while she has yet to sing along
I know she understands my songs
And she fills me when it seems too hard to breathe

(Skip chorus – build to end)

(3)I’ve been raging at the storm
Standing at the place where hearts are torn
I look unblinking in her eyes
And I can feel the anger rise
I remember strength. And in the fire I am reborn.

(Finish big and hard with chorus and guitar/drum back to soft finish)