Thursday, 17 August 2017

How big is your cup?

I heard the voice of Shams*
‘how big is your cup?’
and heart responds with a
resounding smile of recognition
before tricksy mind has a chance
to form its inevitable objection.
Head would shy away
bowing and scraping
in a show of unworthiness.
Heart instinctively moves forward
drawn by a growing flame and
all the while
knowing it will burn.

Burning away dead wood
cauterising and discarding
to reveal fresh tender shoots
vulnerable yet sturdy
containing within all knowledge
to become a vast, wide-spreading tree.

The question reveals
a willing heart, open
embracing wholeness
freedom, completeness
stepping whole-heartedly
into the flame
knowing it will burn
welcoming the burn.

© 15 Aug 17

*Shams of Tabriz was the dervish who inspired Rumi to become a poet

Tuesday, 15 August 2017

I can be

I can be generous as the sky
or closed as a tight flower bud.
I can be unhurried as an unfurling leaf
or full of push and bluster.
I can rest in a non-personal knowing
or believe I have to make things happen.
I can peacefully perform actions
or exhaust myself having to do and create.
I can meet you as you are
or block the flow of love at every step.
I can allow kindness to infuse my actions
or see myself as an unconnected individual.
I can be a free being
responding to the universe.

© 12 Aug 17

Sunday, 13 August 2017

Here is what I want to say!

Here is what I want to say!
Oh contrary mind
be still!
Never satisfied
always perceiving what is lacking
unappreciative of here and now.
Contentment and abundance
both present
and many other gifts.
Stop looking out
stop grasping
be with what gently
presents itself.

Life is a flower
softly unfolding
petal by petal
a delicious centre
hidden from view
revealed only in it own time.

Oh contrary mind
be quiet!
Hush your relentless prattling
notice the flower
softly unfolding.

© 12 Aug 17

Friday, 11 August 2017

Sing to the moon

What can I sing to the moon
whose strong magnetic pull
orchestrates all the ebbs and flows?
globe-like in a vast
wide greying sky
magnificent and awe-inspiring.
Your light cannot be hid
by the clouds tonight
though they connive to throw
their velvety blackness
across your face.

What can I sing to the moon
whose loveliness
floods every corner of the vast
wide greying spread?
Following me as I journey home.
A golden pearl swimming in the ocean
of wide greying vastness.

© 11 Aug 17

Friday, 4 August 2017

Rough edges

Rough edges
being full of awe
stepping stones
into a magical world
of resonance
the heart says yes.

Rough edges
stepping stones
open my eyes
to a world of
true delights
always present
always here
always available.

 © 30 Jul 17

Wednesday, 2 August 2017

Close the eyes, I am there

Close the eyes, I am there*
Close the eyes to all physical limitations
all information produced by the senses.
Open the eyes to a world of
boundless heartfulness
pure love
being, not becoming.

Turn away from the information
of the mind
turn towards all knowledge
pure awareness
already present
already proclaiming.

There – not a physical location
there is presence
There is who I am
where I am
when I put down
the unending claims
limitations of the mind.
There is aware, spacious, free.

© 9 Jul 17
* Swamiji

Sunday, 16 July 2017

If you read these words

I am a leaf blowing in the wind and
I am the wind, playing with the leaf.
Where does the wind begin?
What is its source?
You cannot say ‘here it is’ or
‘over there’.
So it is true with what I call me
a boundless being with
no beginning and no end.
My so-called life as precious and
meaningful as the wind.

I am the song that set
the turning earth in motion.
You will never find my source or
the silence
from which the song originated
except within the song itself
hearing deeply
the spaces between the notes.

I am the heartbeat of all hearts
the rhythm that sustains and
contains all life.
No life is separate from
this consistent sound
this unending sound.

I am a drop of water that knows
she is the vast ocean,
stretching beyond
vision or sight.
Do not look for the droplet
seek only the ocean.

Seek my face in the
blooming of the flower
the fading petals and
the nurturing compost.
Hear my voice in the
chirruping of the crickets and
the call of the birds
one to another.
Seek my face in the fruit
the generous trees yield forth.

If you read these words
read them, hear them, receive them
as your words.
These words are not mine.
I have not devised or created them.
I am only the scribe
who sets them down on paper
the conduit
who hears the voice of the cosmos and
responds to its call.
I have no knowledge to call mine
all is received as a gift from the cosmos and duly passed on.
I am only the scribe.

I am a leaf blowing in the wind.

© 13 Jul 17