Friday, November 23, 2012

Sweet Night

Sweet Night you do return
descending as Raven’s wings; silent, dark.
Light does your mercy spurn,
smothering hopeful spark,
all manner of pride dissolving ‘round this heart.

Ebon waters they rise,
cold river; deaths finger, freed from her stead,
drowning both songs and cries.
And I, moved from my bed,
succumb to the rapids into which I am led.

Deeper still ‘neath the foam,
of waters churning crest, peace reaches high.
My Love’s voice calls me home,
I fight no more to rise
and sink into darkness; holy, baptized.

Monday, October 15, 2012

Song to my Beloved

Walk with me each step I take
                my blessed God
Hold me up when I am weak
                and my soul lost
Grant me the sight when I am blind
                to see you there
‘Til every breath that leaves my lips
                is a prayer.

‘Til when I fall upon my knees
                and lift my gaze
My silence spent, my voice rings out
                to sing your praise
This love for you on wings of hope
                heard everywhere
And every breath that leaves my lips
                is a prayer.

Within your arms this loving child
                shall never stray
By your tears all of my grief
                is washed away
My heart made new, filled with joy
                and love to share
Now every breath that leaves my lips
                is a prayer.

Saturday, September 15, 2012

My Beloved's Call

Despite the sound of my Beloved’s call
I hid beneath the tree.
In fear I trembled so that leaves did fall
and soon did bury me.
But my Love’s beckoning could still be heard,
my ears drawn to Loves’ word.

In the darkness of good nature’s shelter
I tallied all my sins,
even so my Loves’ reach would not falter,
and Love soon entered in.
Then said; “No forest can hide you from me;
Did I not make the tree?”

The gentle breeze of grace began to blow
I was soon uncovered
and washed clean in merciful water's flow
poured forth from my Lover.
I unworthy, no matter forgiveness,
of love so true as this.

My Beloved bade me to an orchard
then nursed me plump with fruit,
until my body was free of torture
and guilt’s harsh voice grew mute.
Then born aloft upon my Lovers sigh
my soul embraced the sky.

Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Reflections on Psalm 51

Create in me a pure heart, O God,

May the well of my love never run dry, may compassion fill my soul each day.  Let all hurts and transgressions be cleansed in the life blood of my soul and be forgiven with each sunrise.  I release the anger and fear that would disallow for me to immerse myself in a state of unconditional love and I dive into the bliss of your Divine tenderness.

and renew a steadfast Spirit within me.

Each day when I rise, may I be conscious of the possibilities that await me.  May I make my resolve to be in a state of grace and humility as I forge my will to be a vessel of love and kindness.  When the darkness of the night fails to leave me when I rise, let me hold to silence and cling to breath and do no further harm.

Do not cast me from your presence

May my own shortfalls teach me wisdom so that I know in the very depths of my heart that any idea I have that you have abandoned me is born of my own shame.  When I fall let my first reflex be rejection of shame, let my second be to reach for your hand as I rise.

or take your Holy Spirit from me.

In the times of absence, when my soul yearns to wander and I am overcome, may I have the fortitude to see beyond my window the living evidence of you, so near me I need only reach out to the tree or flower to touch you.  May the affirmations you so lovingly deliver be the light of my faith leading me home.

Restore to me the joy of your salvation

The utter bliss that fills my being when I accept your tremendous love, when I submit to your grand direction, when I say yes to your wild proposal, is the sustenance that my faith feeds on and my spirit yearns for.  May I know that your salvation is an invitation extended in every moment of my existence; never retracted, always bestowed.

and grant me a willing Spirit

O the greatest gift of all!  Let me be the freedom fighter for the cause of my bound but willful Spirit.  The fire you ignite in me is the weapon of my faith, the peaceful tool that is all I need to build the house where my spirit dwells and from where I joyously give shelter to all.

to sustain me.

Upon opening my eyes let my first thought be that I am grateful to be alive.  For being alive in this time, on this day, is your will and desire for me.  Let my sustenance be that which is provided to me so that I may be strong enough to do your good works, and awaken me to the wisdom that your provisions are enough and eternal.

Amen, my God, my Divine Mother and Father, amen and may it be so.  Let this prayer travel past rocks and bones to the depths of your Earth and through the ethers to the heights of your Heavens.  Let this prayer permeate the universe, live fiercely within me and flow determinedly from my tongue.

Saturday, July 21, 2012

The Souls' Dance

This is where all life will lead if we but listen to the song.

Life like riding on a current of God’s breath to peace.

We are God’s seeds meant to scatter and where we land we are meant to create beauty and abundance.

We have no need to control the movement of the breath; we only need to submit to it gladly.

O to know that when the soul is allowed to rise that she will always submit and in her submission the body will truly find love and rest in quietude.

O to listen to that inner most wisdom that whispers to us about freedom, that reveals to us that no matter what deeds the body has done, that the soul is ever waiting to rise.

We are loved beyond measure and no earthly love can hope to duplicate the passion found in God but at best can merely strive to emulate it despite constant shortcoming.

The soul she leads us always to simplicity and to the gift of creation.  She knows only the tremendous beauty of God’s many treasures and through her we are moved to discovery.

The soul she will dance us out of the church, gently closing the bible with a kiss, and we will then be found in our Beloved’s truest home and among our Beloved’s children.  The trees will reveal themselves as our Ancestors, the rivers as our bloodlines and the soft earth the belly of our forgiving Mother.  The soul will peel away the illusion of loneliness as we step into our place in God’s family.

How is it I can tell you these things and you not turn away?  The desire to help you to see is not born of the need to save you but found in the soul’s dwelling place, the heart, born of love and the desire to share spectacular love with you.

Visions of God are within us, such art as we have never seen.  No artist able to capture the nature of the subject through brushstrokes or the sculptors’ blade.  But for those who have remembered; who have set aside the body in favour of the soul, who have commissioned the body to be the tool of the soul, the visions have ignited the fires of grace and in humility they find their way to their knees.

No wonder the vow of silence for when trying to convey what the soul sees, the movement of the lips and the tongue are futile, words are like the grunts of beasts and the effort to speak them painful.  It is the speaking that reminds us we are only human and in this flesh rendered incapable of being the artist.

So forgive your body of its shortcomings and have no expectation of it to be other than the tool, a marvelous and wondrous tool, through which the soul can find a home for a time and plant her garden for God.

Friday, June 22, 2012

Keep the Faith

Faith believes that there is a greater plan than your own at work in your life, in all of life. The extraordinary gift of faith is the greatest asset bestowed upon us.

Acceptance is being at peace with all that is, as it is. Faith is the absurd conviction that all that is occurring in our world, no matter the consequence, is a momentous contribution to the grander vision of Creation and the unfolding potential of our Spirit.

We come to know faith most intimately in the darkest alleyways of our journey, when there is no light to show us the way. Faith comes to us silently and whispers that we have a light within us and that this light is enough to lead us forward. Faith is tending to this light knowing God is both the light within and the darkness surrounding us – the stillness and the activity, the silence and the din.

Faith sustains us even when the “WHAT IF I’M WRONG?” demon screams fervently in our minds. With faith there are no ‘wrong’ choices; for all is God. I see war on the news, I accept there is brutality within humankind, and I have faith that within the brutality a greater vision is being conceived. Perhaps the greater vision is the yearning, the learning and the realization of, and for, peace. My faith leads me to focus my efforts there. Faith keeps me focused on the one living, green blade of grass in the bloody battlefield.

“Have faith” doesn’t mean to sit and wait for evidence that Spirit is at work, but to work toward the greater vision of your Soul knowing you are being guided by our Creators and that your footsteps will lead you to the magnificence of your fullness – that which is most pleasing to God and to our Earth.
Faith means seeing the ‘green lights’, the indicators on your journey that it is ‘good to go’ and moving in that direction. Faith is following the path that say’s “yes” every step of the way and trusting this will lead to fuller realization.

“YES” does not always point us in the way we would prefer to go or in the direction of ease. YES is always the instinctual nature within that guides us to the best of who we are. YES is the urge to leave a job that is killing your spirit even if it helps pay the bills, it is the notion to open your doors to a lost soul and welcome him to your hearth, it is expressing the most sacred of human virtues each time the urge to do so arises – which, if you are listening, is most often.

We have to be talked out of acting on these urges by the real demons of mediocrity that surround us, the necessity of conforming to the predictable and the mundane. We all have these instinctual urges to love but we follow the dogma of “realism” that keeps us dull and dumbs us down. We have had to convince ourselves that we are nothing…faith leads us to remembering how tremendous we are.

Faith is action; compassion, justice, love. With faith we embrace unfathomable hurt, roll up our sleeves and get to work. Faith is not passive for no action done in faith is passive. Prayer is not passive; neither is planting a garden, lobbying for justice, or placing your body between the oppressor and the oppressed. Faith is the fuel that feeds every muscle in our bodies so that we might move the mountain.

Can you have faith that each wrong committed ‘against’ you was necessary in the greater plan forging you into the complex and powerful soul that you are? Can you have faith that each wrong you have committed against another was also necessary to forge you into the greatness of your soul? With faith, can you forgive others and yourself? Can you let yourself be forgiven?

It is our faith that we incarcerate when we shackle ourselves to anger, envy and fear. Faith weaves us into the great universal tapestry when we remember our instinctual nature and embrace the wilds within us, acting upon the urge to sacrifice, love, give. Our instincts need no reason, no oracle into the future, in order to be there – impelling us to effortlessly expand into our own immensity. Our instincts are the keys to unlocking the Divine that dwells within us and move us to set free all of Creation.

Male Emperor Penguins incubate the eggs of their offspring, while the females leave for weeks to feed. It is possible that the female will not return, being eaten herself by a predator. Yet each male tirelessly protects his potential offspring by balancing it on the tops of his feet, enduring unimaginable cold, with no food or shelter for weeks. Huddling together against the cold, these fathers find what warmth they can through sharing their body heat while nurturing their individual eggs. The mother-penguin, if she survives the weeks of feeding, returns once the egg has hatched and finds her mate and chick by instinctually following the call of the male, leading her home. It is then that she sets to the task of feeding the chick from her own stores. The success and survival of the species depends upon following the instinct to do what appears nonsensical at the time and holding to the faith that the life that so delicately hangs in the balance over the long cold weeks, will be fed and nourished into fullness.

Instinct and faith are inseparable. When we rely on these we step back into the wonder and awe of the vast mystery around and within us. Instinct compels us to shelter one another from the cold, and faith warms our soul while we await the sun’s return.

Tuesday, May 22, 2012

Wisdom is always a woman

Wisdom will not be restrained to a book or the language of mankind.

On hard earth under a merciless sun,
she cradles her babe in her arms,
eyes grace an innocent face,
 dark lashes flutter in restless sleep.

There is no soft place on her body,
all roundness has shrunk to bone,
so she holds her babe to her yielding heart;
as brown eyes open,
and a small hand grasps
for her empty breast.

What wisdom does this mother have
cradled in her heart?

The child upon her thin lap no longer cries;
and soon the grasping hand falls,
the silence of unmet desire
overwhelming the clamour of her sorrow.

She cannot look away
as the hungry eyes of her child close,
heavy from the weight of emptiness,
and fading sighs escape from sweet cracked lips.

What wisdom does this woman know
about the nature of desire;
which reaches beyond the frail body
to seize moments of awe
in the presence of miracles?

How she yearns for suffering to end
and barters for the freedom of her child.
She swallows hard the din of anguish within,
and a primal urge to scream.

She pulls a threadbare shawl over her head,
sheltering them both from a cruel sun,
and softly cups the tiny chest,
faintly rising and falling now.

From somewhere in her starved mind
a lullaby is freed
and rises on her own weak breath
to sing her sweet infant to sleep.

As peace settles forever upon her child
and all the hope in the world goes still,
her song endures, stretching eternally
across a barren land.

Wisdom is always a woman.

She rises from all of creation,
bravely clutching faith in her hand.
She is sung from the lips and born on the breath
 of those who never speak her name.

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Self-Love 101

Self-love is the only way that we truly glorify our Creators and demonstrate our gratitude for the gift of Life.

So much of our energy is spent on the pursuit of learning how to love ourselves; self-improvement, self-help, self-realization. We have created an entire industry whose mandate it is to sell to us the promise of self-love and we eagerly purchase the many ways in which these are packaged for us. We often find these effective for a time; while reading the self-help book, attending the self-realization seminar, listening to the recordings of the self-improvement motivational speaker. Yet once the noise of the activity is over, the anger and loathing of self creeps back inside us.

We are the embodiment of Spirit and the manifestation of Nature. Many of the self-love instructional booklets talk of the first – that we embody Spirit, yet the second is neglected; that we are the manifestation of Nature.

Nature does not loath itself nor seeks to improve on that which it is. Nature simply grows into the fullness of its purpose; the flower blossoming into the perfection of a flower, the tree growing into the grandeur it is meant to be, the eagle soaring into the enormous sky.

Nature simply grows into the realization of the purpose it was created for and does this by uniting with that which has been provided for it to flourish.

We are Nature; our bodies manifesting each element – our bones the earth, our blood the water, our breath the air and the heat of our passions the fire. When we rely on these, on the gift of Nature and the instinct of our Soul we come into fullness and truly comprehend why we exist. We can then share with all of Creation the gifts we are blessed with and radiate the essence of our Soul.

Look to Nature and see how simple it is to love yourself, place Nature in the exalted position of being your mentor guiding you to grow into that which is your purpose, your reason for living. Turn your eyes inward and see the miracle of your form; relish in the way in which all of the elements within you come together to sustain your life. When you can dance in the splendour, lose yourself in the sensual, dive into the pool of gratitude for your perfect body – then you can unite with all of our Creators provisions to fulfill that which you were born to do.

Loving yourself becomes the method by which you reveal your sacred purpose. It becomes the path through the forest that leads you to the Divine. It is the song of love to the Mother and the Father which gave you body and soul.

Self-loathing, the religion of Wretchedness that permeates our culture, is a lie and rooted in the doctrine of original-sin. There is no sin by which we were created. The Mother and the Father created us through love – the original-blessing. How we insult the Divine when we entertain the notion that sin is in any way involved in our creation. How profoundly we dishonour the blessing of life and our Creators by assigning sin to their union.

When we look to the wilds we learn that love and acceptance is what all of life is predicated upon. We revel in the purpose of all creatures and celebrate their existence. We see no need to sequester ourselves from the world – to live apart from the very evidence of our Creators or to choose between body and soul, for love creates everything and we are blessed when we live among all of creation.

There is no teacher who can teach you the secret to self-love. None who can unlock this wisdom from the prison you have confined it in. You alone hold the key; the choice to still yourself, listen to the Divine within and witness the wilds of Nature.

Each day allow silence to enfold you. Escape the din of the experts and journey to the gentle melody of Nature and you will remember that which you have never needed to learn.

Friday, March 2, 2012


What would I tell you if you would listen?
What do I wish I had known?

Slow is better than fast
in nearly all things.
In love especially…and growing.

Slow to know, not so eager to be held,
details reveal who you are becoming.

Life is short but time is endless,
there is enough to savour each smile and tear.

Think about hot days lazing under the sun,
that small bead of sweat that inches down your neck…
life is better lived like that.

Slow is better than fast; a journey made on foot,
each step more delicately placed under our own steam.
Burdens we carry chosen more wisely
when there is time to choose.

You know how sluggish time is when you are anticipating Christmas?
That’s good – that anticipation flourishing in the slow hand of time.
It’s giving your body time to know how intuition feels,
giving your heart time to know how love feels,
for you… to you… in you.

Slow is better than fast when welcoming another body
to dance with yours;
the space slowly closing filled with electricity 
(which travels fast so we don’t have to),
time to say ‘no’ and time to say ‘yes’.

Wisdom can catch up with you, so can heartache…
and come together in uncomfortable alliance,
both so vital to the refining of your spirit.

Slow is better than fast – I wish I knew this like I know it now
but I’m glad I finally do.
So I can tell you,
before you rush into life like I know you will,
before you trip, before you fly, forgetting all of this
like I know you should.

Happy Birthday precious one.

Thursday, February 9, 2012

Sanitized Woman

Women have become sanitized in a culture that fears the wild and the natural.

How did it begin; the systematic refining of our nature?

Who first sought to bind our spirits by binding our bodies?

And why?

To what end the sale of the maiden,
the vilification of the mother,
the taming of the crone?

Was she slowly and methodically enticed from the forests;
the moist, rich home of her foremothers?
With sweet music, entrancing songs and vows of everlasting love,
was she seduced to follow the call
of those who would domesticate her?

Or was she hunted; ripped from her home,
her nails breaking as she was torn from the tree?
Did she scream at and curse her stalkers?
Then was she bound by chains until
her scream went silent and her rage was spent?

It is the howling wind or the eagles cry that stirs her memory within me.
She walks with smouldering strength within her wild domain,
she tends to the gardens and the fire,
and easily she takes up her charge.

I see through her eyes when I look upon the sunrise
and my body stirs,
my skin awakens and aches
for the heat to caress me.
She reminds me of a power that rests nestled in my hips
and I find myself swaying with the rhythm of desire.

I lament when I think upon her submission
and the cost of such an act.
I struggle with the insanity that such an act demands,
the relinquishing of her body and the shunning of her intuition;
the sources of all the wisdom in the world.

And I ask of all my sisters, as I ask of myself;
to what end this sanitization?

Through seduction or rape we surrendered our home;
when will we take it back?

Remember, we once were warriors
and sentries of our Mother.
We knew the feel of power in our hands
and the grit of earth on our feet.

What has submission cost you, my sister?

No matter the method of her abduction
they did not consider
all the times she sat on the earth
under the fullness of the moon,
her blood enriching the soil.
So that even when they placed her in the castle,
the bedroom, the kitchen,
she continued to cultivate under the tree.

I could not write these words if it was not so.
The sunrise and the eagle’s call would not stir a rich and bloody scent,
not cause my hairs to bristle.
I would not hear her footfalls,
twigs breaking under her sure step,
as I walk about the cultured hallways
and tread upon polished floors.

Monday, January 16, 2012


Consider my whispers…
there are words within
and pleas and visions
of God and you.

Quiet does not diminish
the bigness or the urgency
of my reaching breath,
seeking a heart to hold my hand.

Consider my whispers…
for as you turn your ear to hear,
you will find a gentle breeze
that moves across your face
drying any tears

like a warmly blown kiss
that you would otherwise

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

Surrender Prayer

Please God,
if I must surrender,
let it be to bliss.
Let me fall into the madness of your love
and the insanity of your desire.

Please God,
may I be received by the light,
my weapons and armour stripped from me.
Detain me in the wilds of your living Earth.
Let there be no escape.

If it be your angels who are to be my captors,
then willingly do I wave my flag and raise my hands.
If I am to be bound once again Lord,
let it be by a golden thread
to your throne.