Song of the Heart

Song of the Heart

Straight away I felt a pain in my right chest,

Like sinews tearing in a tiny way.

Slowly my mind focused in:

What can I call this presence in my Heart?

Who can I have a relationship with?

I am a warrior of Peace.

I am strong, fit, able, willing

In mind, body and Heart.

Yet sometimes I am wracked by the

Emotions of fear and human love.

I have the innocence, the openness and eagerness

Of a child and many, many questions.

In the temple of my Heart

There is a lotus shrine

On which sits Love

This jewel shines forth a Light so bright

It is beyond imagination.

Pure dhamma- how can I go anywhere else?

Half way up Mount Mulanje,

Deep in the humid forest

I can hear bird calls, rustlings.

It smells of death-

Water moves nearby, dripping.

I have the taste of hesitation in my mouth,

I won’t go further.

I see green- trees and leaves amongst the shadows.

Light shafts coming through the canopy.

Rocks, a vague path.

The mountain Spirit said, “Honour intuition,

Honour dhamma,

Truth.

THAT is always there in your Heart.

Dhamma will protect.”

Struggling to trust, pleading,

‘Temu, the most High, how do I know you?’

“My voice is clear, direct and brief.

You can feel the Truth in your sinews, in your Being.

To hear me, keep silence.

Mine is the only voice you need to hear.

Be pure awareness. Be love.”

Dreaming of the Blue, nothing but Blue.

Totally full and satisfied;

One with the blue.

Freedom is being unattached

To everything I have to lose.

What are the facts?

I’m here and it’s raining outside.

Glorious rain. Blessed is the glorious rain.

I’m sitting on my Mother’s lap and

Asking myself, ‘What are the facts?’

Twisting out strange factory images:

Gritty, dark brick and chimney stacks.

Northern England:

My heritage and pain,

Deep, ancient pain.

Longing for Him, I say, ‘Show yourself to me.

I show you myself, my Truth,

My Heart, my vulnerability.

Now you stop hiding and

Show me what you are.’

‘I will look straight at you.

I will listen to the rhythms of my life

And be the rhythms of my nature.

I’m here, I’m watching, listening and feeling.

And I won’t give up.

Something about a flower

Something about a flower

Is that it opens and accepts

The Sun.

And sometimes it closes

Its petals.

It doesn’t know if it’s beautiful 

Or grateful,

Or why.

It just opens sometimes

And then closes again.

Devotion

Devotion:

Bent legs- perfect petals

Straight back- strong, secure

Peaceful- above and below

Body scanning- relaxing,

Breathing,

Floating on sensations.

A promise to myself, to the Earth, to the Universe:

An end to suffering.

Fishtail Mountain:

On a path, on a hillside

Staring at the mountain

Smooth like plaster cast

Around me, the village waking up

Nearby I know there’s a little temple;

Exquisite wood carvings- deities.

Going back now I would bow there.

Standing in the mountain now,

Weather systems of opinions and emotions;

Cycles of criticism and judgement;

Storms of anger and resentment.

The mountain can tell me which voice to listen to:

The still quiet one;

How to be patient and wait for the signs.

Spreading oak.

Old friend.

You haven’t changed a bit.

Perhaps your majestic coat is slightly brighter

On this summer’s day.

But your wide, solid arms are always there,

Inviting me towards your huggable trunk.

Your kissable leaves sway gently as I breathe you in

And listen to your wise sap rising.

Precious, precious being.

I have shallow roots all over

Connecting with others

Wide range of traditions:

Breathing, deer, eagles in the sky,

Low mists and rain

And the smell of cut wood

That is God, Divine Mother:

Sacredness

Respect

Connectedness