First poem at Yasodhara

Sacred, holy mountain; powerful and dangerous.

Beside you I feel inadequate and insecure.

Let me embody your unmovable essence. Let me also stand statuesque and serene.

Is it some sign that I find myself in the mountain, staring straight at manipura on the wall?

And asking, ’What do I need to know about myself?’

This vulnerable, little human is still arriving.

Everything’s new. Settling in, searching out roots and balance.

I’m reacting in old ways and observing ancient patterns.

But they’re weaker than they’ve ever been.

Awareness illuminates them and steals their strength.

Slowly, like the sunshine illumines parts of a mountain,

First on one side, then on a hidden valley, then over a peak,

I can let the hidden parts of myself be revealed where the light is ready to be.

Being gently in the foundation of my faith and knowledge,

While emotions blow over like an ever-changing weather system.

Shadows and light never stay for long,

But the mountain doesn’t need other mountains to tell it its name.

It just is: Bridging the light and dark; feminine and masculine;

Past and present; real and symbolic;

Cultures and geographies; left and right

Moving from edge to edge, I find I enjoy the extremes.

Somewhere in the further most doing, there is resting.

Paradox.

Where just enough tension gives the hold bite- pushing the limits.

Struggling to hold onto kindness.

And yet there is always a refuge.

A safe place in nature and in light:

In attempting to embody love, while balancing in the tree, I crack a smile.

Reminds me of playfulness and of laughter;

That trees speak to me, that we exchange affections.

An important reminder to keep lightness in the practice.

Without light, we and our sister trees would die, inside and out.

Imagining it was always dark, that the sun never came again,

Is the most fearful of thoughts.

And yet, just as a tree’s roots grow in darkness,

Is not a vital part of us born in darkness, nourished by darkness?

Without darkness there could be no light.

Not where I stand today on this bridge, by this tree,

In this mountain.

A couple of poems inspired by my yoga course

 

In playfulness,

The turtle stares up at me with his one eye.

It looks like the facet of a diamond,

Winking and twinkling and laughing at my efforts,

In the gentlest and kindest of ways.

But I’m too shy to come out yet.

‘Carry your temple with you wherever you go,’ he says-

‘A bodily temple of sensations,

And find retreat in the blue sacred spaces:’

“The depths of the ocean where dreams arise.”

My feet are in Namaste,

Slowly learning to bow.

 

African fish eagle, black and white

Waits long time on a burnt out tree

Head turns watching watching.

Emotionless, balanced, secure in stillness,

Setting her sights before she moves,

Not quite ready to soar.

Twists in life, transitions.

A useful tension rings out long-held stuff.

Blessed release opens up revelations:

A broken heart is an open heart;

There’s lightening in stormy skies.

Fear of death explodes into a love of life;

Eyes and lack of eyes.

From purple water monsters, ghosts and prisons

Arrows point to metamorphosis:

A giant blue insect bird soars over a golden sailboat,

Silver vibrations of gratefulness and

Orangepinkyellow joy.

Surrender to savasana:

Sacred space, silence, a place to grieve

Trust, cease the trying and the struggle,

RELAX to reveal ‘that sweet spot’:

A candle of enlightenment,

Faith, devotion and acceptance

Salutations to Surya, God the Sun,

I bow and prostrate like a pilgrim in Tibet,

Move with the flow of the breath, remember grace.

Opening the chest, I embody Spirit:

Every part of me celebrating life and

Using my ox’s heart to pull me through and up

Into light.

Now floating in the pond of pure, shining whiteness,

I hear the movements of fish and the mysterious sounds of the deep

Warm and ever so peaceful, totally weightless and held.

Occasionally I open an eye or both

And see the vast expanse of blue sky and sunlight

Or catch a glimpse of the corner of a waxy leaf or petal,

White with an edge of yellow or pink,

Or my hand gently nudges up against something firm

And I feel the perfection of the Blue Lotus

Satnam...Grace of God

I'll play sweet music and sing a devotion for you everyday
And I'll forgive myself, in my heart,
If ever I forget.

I'll release your lilac spirit from dark bonds that may hold it
And carry the heaviest load, walk the steepest path, clean the filth of ages,
with joy in every pore,
And I'll forgive myself from the plumb deep of my innermost heart,
should I ever forget.

I'll speak your name with reverence and recall your face with love
I'll play and jump and dance to your memory,
And, if one day, it so happens, I let you slip from mind,
I'll open the profoundest chamber of my heart's heart
and release the winged and dappled unicorn...

And I'll start again.

5 O'Clock Shadow

I don't usually give an explanation of my poems, but this one's a bit abstract. One evening, during my last 10 day silent meditation course, looking over the mountains from my room in Worcester, Western Cape, I saw a shadow cast over the slope that brought this one to mind.


5 O'Clock Shadow

Comic hillside giraffe

Shadow dog

What can you teach me about death?

Why I love Swaziland (2)

I feel very blessed to have been able to re-visit childhood stomping grounds in Swaziland, finding places and people reassuringly like my memories in many ways (mists on the hills at Hawane, the smell of woodfire, men in traditional dress carrying knobkerries, raucous and drunken nights of darts and philosophising around the log fire) and curiously changed (mobile phones ringing on the combi bus, finding blue cheese in a choice of supermarkets, American rap blasting from a market stall). Spending 8 years of my childhood there has set Swaziland firmly in my heart and I can never say never but for now I'm back in the leafy green and perfumed early summer of Brighton, another warm and safe home.
These are some of the things I love about Swaziland:

 Rushing, cold rivers you can risk a swim in.

 Watching a baby giraffe, with not another vehicle in sight.

 The ever-present possibility of danger.

 Deserted, beautiful places you can just enjoy.

 The easy way that Swazis laugh.

 Thatched roofs in any light or weather.

 The love of Joyce.

 Frost on the fields around Hawane.

 Sharing a room with any number of amazing insects and spiders.

 Music and shaking our asses.

 The fly way so many people dress.

 Randomness and acceptance.

 Sharing spontaneous experiences with wicked friends.

 Driving on red dirt roads.

 Openness to new and controversial ideas (this is a humanure processing system ie compost from human shit- best tomatoes I ever ate)

 Taking good ideas and running with them. This young man introduced a bunch of home-steaders to the idea of swales on contour with great eloquence and passion.

 Njabula- my friend and mentor at Guba- a Rastafarian and therefore a vegetarian in a country of meat addicts.

 The flowers of Malolotja- the widest variety and craziest styles I've ever seen.

 The easy way my Swazi family can smile and enjoy when really they have so little material comfort.

 Traditional dress and how warmly Swazis will admit me to their clan.

 The mountains.

 The rocks and the aloes.

 Mystery and ancientness.

 Playing bar games with beautiful souls.

 Fun and high jinks!

 Men who know how to braai.

Art.

We Can Fly

 

I watched a pair of

White-collared crows

Bounce and swirl on the

Salty current of a sea breeze

And my heart remembered how to fly.

For brief moments, plumes of light

Burst forth through every pore

And thrilled my very being.

I spun and dived with

My winged brothers:

For the fun

For the joy

Just because I could

A Gift of Love

 I picked up a guy on crutches today just outside Piggs Peak. A very similar feeling overtook me as did the day I picked up my first lone male hitchhiker in France. I followed my heart. That time my mind quickly took things over and wondered if I should possibly hide my purse from this well-built Italian with dreads. I never feared that he might do anything nasty to me.

I was even more confident today. And sure enough, rather than getting raped and my body dumped by the side of the road, I was given one of the strongest lessons of my life. This man has had an ulcer on his leg since 1999 which won’t heal after lengthy stays in hospital, antibiotics and anti-retroviral drugs: He was ashamed when the doctor recommended getting tested for HIV but finally agreed  when he was promised that, were he positive, he would be healed by the drugs he’d be given. He is HIV positive and has been taking the anti-retrovirals since 2004. The ulcer still hasn’t healed. He’s been told he will eventually die as a result of it.

I asked this man, who’s name I may never know, if he believed in God. He told me passionately of his great love for God. How God has helped him to lead a good life, free from alcohol and anything else I could think of. How, despite his predicament, he believes that God will one day cure his ulcer. Until then, he trusts that whatever he does is blessed by the Lord. I shared with him my favourite saying of recent times:

“In God I breathe, move and have my being.’

And he told me that he prays everyday when he wakes up, when he eats, when he goes to sleep, when he does many things. He told me how much gratitude he has for the life he’s been given. He has a family, a home…

And although he doesn’t have a job, he has taught himself to make floor polish and other cleaning products, which he sells. He does his best.

His journey to Piggs Peak, which takes 2-3 buses and at least a couple of hours from Manzini where he lives, came about because he wanted to help out with hospital bills for his nephew who was hurt in an accident on the road to Matsamo.

When he got out of the car he told me that he hoped God would bless me.