Who are you, little person?
I know you as intimately as it is possible to know a body, having birthed you from my own.
Yet you are complete mystery.
My wonder in you is like the wonder of the stars.
No thought could capture you,
nor name define you.
Maybe it’s stars that you are;
and my love, the universe.
Eternal love,
I am bought to my knees.
The sadness, a shocking reminder
Of the Beauty.
Here in the realisation
Of mortality,
Lies the seed
Of eternity.
This body,
A vessel-
The tangible link
Between existence
And emptiness.
My soul
A playground for the Beloved.
The ability to feel
And be.
I love you.
Thank you.
Tonight I feel the passage of time
So close
And in the centre of that,
The timeless.
Can I open my heart wide enough,
Nay, can I see that it is already wide enough
To hold the heartbreaking beauty
Of both?
The tender curl of your eyelashes,
The pout of your lip.
The innocence in your eyes,
That brings tears to my own.
I love you as if I’ve already lost you,
For you are an un-capturable moment in time,
Your presence a constant reminder
To breathe,
To love,
To live.
In this knowledge,
I stay my hand from grasping you
Lest I cast an anchor
upon your ship.
For you are sailing freely now,
Strong and bold and true,
With the wind of life in your sails
And the beloved at your tiller.
I know that sometimes the seas will be rough,
Perhaps one day, you will even find yourself mast-less,
Broken and drifting
Upon a seemingly uncaring sea.
But I will do my best to stand staunch in the knowledge
That you are guided
By the tender hand of the unseen.
Perhaps to places deeper within yourself,
Where you see
That regardless of the shape of the ocean,
You were never once, not for a moment,
Separate from the sea.
That you are life, my child!
That you are stardust
And magnificence,
Ancient wisdom
And timeless innocence
All rolled into one.
Yes,
Loving you breaks my heart
Wide open
To life.
I tried to speak to you today
Instead I hung my head in shame.
How presumptuous of me
To think that in your presence
I could say anything at all.
For how could words encompass
The unutterable.
How could my lips give shape
To the silent beating
Of my heart.
I am a temple
And you speak me.
I can only lay down my words
Rest this tongue
And listen.
TO THE SENSITIVE ONES
Do not be ashamed of your sensitivity!
It has brought you many riches.
You see what others cannot see,
Feel what others are ashamed to feel.
You are more open, less numb.
You find it harder to turn a blind eye.
You have not closed your heart,
in spite of everything.
You are able to hold
the most intense highs
and the darkest lows
in your loving embrace.
(You know that neither define you.
Everything passes through.
You are a cosmic vessel.)
Celebrate your sensitivity!
It has kept you flexible and open.
You have remained close to wonder.
And awareness burns brightly in you.
Don’t compare yourself with others.
Don’t expect them to understand.
But teach them:
It’s okay to feel, deeply.
It’s okay to not know.
It’s okay to play
on the raw edge of life.
Life may seem ‘harder’ for you at times,
And often you are close to overwhelm.
But it’s harder still
to repress your overwhelming gifts.
Sensitive ones,
Bring some gentleness into this weary world!
Shine on with courageous sensitivity!
You are the light bearers!
– Jeff Foster
I hold this imperfection
I hold it in my chest
I hold this imperfection,
So dear and so blessed.
I am vast enough to love it,
I am vast enough to be.
I am deep enough to hold it,
Try it and you’ll see.
I love this perfect imperfection that is me.
The Is-ness, is so solid
a chunk of This-Is-What-It-Is.
and yet, in my plight, I argue, what if?
What if, I had done it differently?
What if, I had chosen this way?
What if, I am without doubt?
As if the fists of my refusal
can possibly dent
the edifice, the stoney truth
of What is Happening.
And yet, the Is-ness calls me back,
my sweet lover, my tender reminder
that hindsight is masochistic and
foresight a case of control-freaking.
In the laughing gentle face of reality.
my mistakes are beautiful reminders
that a flaw in perfection is the master
artist, reminding us all
of the truth that is so easy
to forget:
Every dropped stitch,
Every missed calculation,
Every errant brush stoke
is genius, pure genius.
Opening us
to the grander truth,
the Ultimate Yes: No mistake
is possible and every seeming
misdirection is truly pointing
the way.
There is nothing to apologize for.
All of your mistakes are beautiful
perfections, perfectly aligned
to show you One True Thing:
This is What it Is.
When you love that,
love the mistake, accept
the imperfection,
embrace the Is-nes
There is nothing Wrong
and nothing Right.
Rumi said it already.
I will meet you there.
Lorri Ann – theawakeneddreamer.com
A reader recently asked me, “What I really want to know is what lead to your awakening? What life were you leading that contributed to this event?” He wondered if there was a certain way to cultivate a fertile ground for enlightenment, a kind of prerequisite plan.
Well, for one, by the time I awoke from the dream that I was a separate self, the enchantment of being Lori-Ann had all but worn off. Like wall paper which had begun to fade and peel, the near fifty years of living under the spell of selfhood was lifting. As this trance loosened its grip there glimmered underneath the façade of “me”, something brilliant by comparison. Then one day the wallpaper-thin self just fell away entirely, revealling a spacious vast nothingness full of life.
Even so, a spontaneous awakening is probably not really instantaneous, even if it looks to be sudden. In…
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In letting go of all control over someone you hold them more closely than you ever imagined possible.
In freeing them you find true intimacy with them.
In allowing them to be exactly as they are you align yourself with the heart of life.
All falls away and there is only love.
Still awareness looks from these eyes, from this heart.
It includes everything,
It illuminates all it sees,
It is one with the entire universe.
The universe rests inside my heart.
silent centre 