A Dance on the eve of Beltane

Jesus dances under a full moon on a hot summer night. The drums beat out a rhythm and his body responds; moving and circling, his arms reaching for the sky. Each movement takes him deeper into the dance until he is only ‘body’; and there is only him and his Mother. She encircles him within a grove of trees, lays her body down so he may feel the soft grass between his toes. She blows a gentle breeze to cool his skin and brush the hair from his face.

She loves him well.

Jesus’ eyes are closed as he dances and a soft smile plays on his lips. He dances to honour his Mother and the perfect body She gave him. He dances to reach the place of stillness so that he may draw upon the sweet pulsing rhythm of his own knowing. He dances to release the shackles of his mind and the sorrowful images held there of the pain of others. He dances his fear; each stomping foot giving the fear to his Mother, so that She may absorb it in Her body and renew it to beauty.

Jesus dances his desires, each of his limbs stretching, reaching and moving beyond his boundary.

The Mother smiles upon Her boy; this man so full of wisdom, so beyond this space and time. She celebrates his radiant being and the stars shine brighter. This Mother fills Her ancient breast with love and from Her flows a river of purity.

And as Jesus’ dance intensifies, the Mother pours forth abundance of life and beauty to nourish all Her children.

Jesus slows his dance, the drum beating the slow rhythm of his heart. He has surrendered and has been blessed with a cleansing. A tear travels down his cheek and he falls to his knees. Jesus sings a song of blessing, a song more beautiful than innocence.

And when he is finished, Jesus lies down upon the body of this Mother, his arms outstretched to hold as much of Her as He can.

Then Jesus sleeps.

Believing your are not wanted
is like believing the Earth
does not want the Sun…
is like believing the Sun
does not want the Wind…
is like believing the Wind
does not want the Rain…

Believing your are not wanted
is like believing laughter
is not wanted…
is like believing dancing
is not wanted…
How could that ever be?
How could that ever be?

I would miss the birds…

These diminutive creatures that so briefly rest
upon the holly tree outside my window;
they are many, their song is brave,
yet they are as tiny as a baby’s breath.
As I watch them dart from branch to branch,
my heart is calmed, my tears cease
and I know this one thing:
if I were to die in this moment I would miss the birds.

Something about them gives me hope;
mighty beyond their size, mighty because of their size.
So much life – a heart beating fiercely
inside a chest the size of a walnut.

Crying and bird watching are not conducive.

Tears slow the speed required to track each swift and precious movement;
the impish tilt of a head, the blink of a shimmering eye,
the fervent dance among the holly…

And then they are gone,
but not;
they leave behind them the testimony of God;
for only God could conceive of such a thing as these
magical creatures whom, on silent wings,
glide easily through my window
and nest within my heart.

Abundance

I wander the street of an old Chinese market. The smells from the food stalls fill the air and make my stomach rumble in need of sustenance. I yearn for food…I can see it, smell it, nearly taste it in the air around me but I cannot put it to my lips. I haven’t the money. It seems that everything on Earth is for sale here. Stall owners wave to passers-by enticing them to come see their wares, promises of deals that do not exist. And everyone knows this but come anyways – come for the belief that they are saving even as they spend on items worth far less than the deal they believe they are getting.

Fabric of every texture and colour, purses of all shapes, shoes, household good, clothing, jewelry; all line the streets, hanging from hooks and stacked on benches. It is as if all of humankind has chosen this spot to enact the sacred dance between buyer and seller, an ancient choreography designed to make the world go round. Without it we would all dry up and perish. Or so we believe.

And I can’t get a bowl of rice. All these riches so close but so far, and my belly rumbles all the louder. I don’t belong here and this is confirmed by the way I am jostled by the crowd, people walking into me as if I am invisible. For this I am somewhat grateful. I don’t want to dance and my cloak of invisibility makes it possible for me to abstain. Yet in abstaining I am ignored by the crowd and my desire to be waved at, enticed, welcomed and seen is as real as the rumble in my belly. A different sort of hunger…one not so easily mollified. And so I stand, a wallflower in this place, amidst the din of raised voices and the clamour of pots and pans, surrounded by the beauty offered by illusion, the seduction of comfort, the smell of savoury dishes. I stand as a wallflower and beckon to those dancing; “Come over here, try sitting this one out, let’s get to know each other…” I promise them that here they will find the most valuable package – wrapped in the immense beauty of their own skin, costing them nothing and providing them with everything. Even as I wave and motion them to me, my heart is lifted, my stomach calmed. Someone hands me a carton of steamed rice, like a hand from heaven it reaches out with just what I need, just when I need it. My gratitude fills me and spills out; a smile spreads across my face. I eat and eat, the rice warming me and filling me. The hand that offered it, my link to the dance, telling me I belong, even as I stand at the sidelines.

Silent Surrender

I am not saying much these days
I am listening instead;
to the silence, to my breath
within the silence.

As I fall here
as in a dream, as in a warm embrace
I am more aware of all sound,
of all warm breezes,
of the tips of gentle wings on my cheek.

Isn’t it amazing?
God in the silence, God in the reckless din of chaos
I can sigh or scream
and God does not abandon me,
not out of boredom or weariness.

Even as I see it coming;
this change - this once more,
even as the temptation to resist
swells within me
the silence enfolds me and I surrender.

Held here, hear…
close to the chest, to the loving heart
the beating of which eases my soul
remembering a time of simple tranquility

when I was home.

There is no story to tell,
it is written on my body, on your body,
every tear and every joy
from our skin to Gods' ear.

Waking Up

I am creating MY life each time I breathe,
each TIME I awaken,
EACH time I step forward.

No earthly second passes
that does not mark my pulse and
BEATING heart.

I AM ALIVE!
I AM ALIVE!

Life moves through me and around me.
I join with the swirling cycle of ENERGY,
I am lifted high on its currents
to a CEDAR bough within the clouds.

I survey a crystal DAWN; the new day
wakening and filling with the light of
SPIRIT!

Golden rays reach out to me like
GENTLE hands of love,
my face warms and my heart HEALS.

I AM NEW TODAY!

I stand and walk to the edge of the clouds
and with one
DEEP
FULL
intake of BREATH,
I dive into the day beneath me.

The Invitation

I awake to a dark and rainy morning.
Outside the air smells fresh and alive.
The soil in my flower bed sparkles like
stars in the night sky.

I long to walk into the forest,
amongst the trees and bush,
boldly feeling my way to a small and quiet space.
The rain soaking my night dress and moistening my skin
so crisply
that I am aware of each tiny hair on my body
standing up in response.

I could truly know peace in such a place,
on such a morning.
Here, before the world around me begins to rise and stretch,
I am alone with the true Mother.
Here, I can dance to Her heartbeat,
my hips gently swaying under my now
wet and heavy nightgown.

Who does not long to follow
the gentle calling of the Earth?
Each of us daring,
as much as we are able,
to be led by the deepest stirrings of our
Spirit
into the darkness.

(Photo by Philip)