Complacency is a drug.

Security is sleep.

Emergencies
are life’s way of saying
“Wake the fuck up!”

We are born into suffering,
Thrust out of amniotic bliss
into chaos and light -
a dream of separation.

We search our whole lives
for wholeness remembered,
womb of the Mother,
womb of Spirit.

In this dream of separation,
each moment seems severed
from where we are from,
where we long to be,
our birthright of completeness.

We look to the world around us,
seeking what seems missing inside,
until that moment of awakening,
when we find ourselves, complete,
as we have always Been.

There is no poem
that will express this moment.

I am!

In a place without judgement,
there is room for acceptance.

In a place of acceptance,
there is room for joy.

What if I were my own best friend?

How would treat myself?

Would I cringe
at my own ineptitude,
or cheer on my greatest efforts?

Would I love myself as I am,
or as I think I should be?

Could I accept this gift,
and give up the urge
to find it wanting?

When a train of thought begins,
it has no tracks,
unless you lay them down.

Each one is like a puff of smoke,
leading nowhere,
unless, with our attention,
we let them lead us
where they will.

Without the engine of thought,
pulling us down its narrow paths,
our ways are infinite,
our possibilities endless.

When you love someone,
love them because you see in them
the strongest that you are,
and love them also,
because you see in them
the weakest that you are.

What if the “I” that I think I am
is just imagining itself,
solidified by thinking,
again and again?

Is it by being this “I”
that I am cut off,
separated,
from all other “I’s”,
in this dream of aloneness?

What if each “I”
is but a drop
in an ocean of being?

Then,
beyond this dream,
there is no separation,
there is no “I”,
and, as we awaken,
we are not alone.

We are all actors,
acting in our own plays.

The world is our stage,
the things and people in it,
our props.

How easily we forget
that we write every scene,
that the events unfolding
are our own dream.

Oh, to awaken
in the act of acting,
and see an infinity
of possible dreams,
each one ripe
to step into.

I am the child,
flailing in the river,
afraid of the current.

I am the river,
cradling that child,
giving comfort,
support,
unfelt and unseen.

I am the water,
flowing through the river,
always changing,
always carrying him on.