Drops

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~September 2019

 

Your voice drops
into my tired tattered soul
like the soft drizzle of Autumn rain
drops across the withering leaves
in a dry dying orchard after harvest.

Your voice drops
into my shaky shattered spirit
like the wash of deep hard rain
drops across fire-cracked earth
filling the deep-graven lines of desert.

Your voice drops
into my fragile frail heart
like the splashing plops of Spring rain
drops across fresh-born flower petals
newly breathing in the bright light of a garden.

 

~Photography Marissa Mullins (c)2019

Drift

white and black moon with black skies and body of water photography during night time

~September 2019

Drift = a continuous slow movement from one place to another.

 

Drift me toward the Shore of Surrender
on the wave of a sweetly sung lullaby.

Cradle me in Imagination and Intuition
with hands of intimate caring caresses.

Float me across the Ocean of New Hope
in the arms of fantasy and prayer.

Speak me a distant Day of Devotion
where flowers and fortune and future exist.

Courage me toward the silent Strength of Unity
with whispered words of sacrifice.

Drift me into the new living Light of Life
on the sound of a sweetly sung lullaby.

Sing me through these dark Lone Days
where the heart wills but the spirit is broken.

 

~Photo by GEORGE DESIPRIS on Pexels.com

 

 

Solace in September

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~September 2019

 

You are a gift given without your knowing —
God’s mysterious hand
using you
to bring me solace in September.

How can your love sing
this strange strong song  —
your voice whispering healing
into my shattered spirit?

Drowning
in the tones and waves and
whispers of lullaby —
I ask myself —

How does love
grow a heart that strong —
Strong enough to send strangers
solace in September?

Happenstance and miracles
grow from the same garden.
I am content to see the orchard —
to know it exists.

 

~Photography Marissa Mullins (c) 2019

A Stranger Who Is a Friend: Seeking the Beloved

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“What you seek is seeking you.”  ~Rumi

 

A stranger who is a friend I’m just now meeting brings me a gift. He reaches in his pocket – reaches his hand out to me – places a piece of the living world in my hand. It is warm from being in his pocket, from the heat of his energy. It fits my hand perfectly as I stare at it and then into it and through it.

An opaque beauty of swirling movement and lines flows into my vision. The warmth of endowed energy moves into me along with the images: first, an eye looks back at me: then, an outline of a bird: then, a volcanic landmass: then, a riverbed that explodes into the Universe twirling. And, finally, in it’s deepest secret revealing, what does this gifted treasure show me? Love.

This love so bright my heart beats deeper and my lips form smiles. Laughter breaks free and moves out my mouth. This love is the same voice of love in my ear all week saying that my favorite Shiva Lingham stone is to be gifted to this person when we meet. I explain this to the stranger who is a friend as he sits down on my couch.  I do not explain that I have spent a week chanting and praising and holding this stone in my hand so it would hold deep the energy of love for him when gifted.  I take the stone from it’s sacred space on my table  and I reach out my hand to his and give him this gift. Love.

The Universe as space and sky unfolds it’s magic and pours it’s love on the ground below. Metaphorically, this love is the ground where strangers become friends in the unlikeliest of ways. It is the ground that grows our greatest human possibilities and capabilities, the ground that fosters the seeds of compassion and giving in such a way that others and the world are made better by this garden. Human vulnerability and honesty are the water feeding thirsty plants so they may unfold, bloom, and burst wide into bright-colored, rich-scented flowers.

This garden crop at harvest is one of peace, generosity, encouragement, and friendship in sublimely spiritual ways. We grow and flower under the tutelage of love. She is our teacher and the deepest vast river and earth of our being.

We are magically superhuman (pure Spirit, even!) when we love ourselves and others with this Divine Love of non-judgement and non-condtioning. But this love requires two deep human offerings for maturation: we must sacrifice falsehood and safety. The irony — that in sharing our true vulnerability with others and maintaining a deep core commitment to honesty with ourselves and with others we move past the confines of self and into the joy of love that is the Divine.

The dichotomies and duality of good and bad, perfect and imperfect, enough and not enough seem to lose their strangulation hold over us; suddenly we breathe a little deeper, there is room for movement and flexibility, the control that once made us feel safe seems a lie and a bad joke somehow. We are beginning to understand the meaning of freedom. And this movement from captivity into freedom begins with a simple question: What are you seeking?

Or, translate the question into it’s deeper variations: What are you looking for? when you look at yourself, others, the Universe, the Divine. Whatever you are seeking is also seeking you? You will see what you expect to see. You will find what you think is there. What do your beliefs tell you? And how many of those beliefs still work for you? Do they bring you fear or pain, or do they take you to a place where love, joy, freedom are the common experience?

Take a slight pause to consider the questions…a minor shift in focus, one small off-step in perceptive point of view … are you seeking a stranger that is a friend? Are you open to finding the Beloved in the faces and animals and the world around you? Is a stone a stone — or can you open your eyes a little wider, look a little deeper — to the life and flow and love that hides within it? If you can pause and consider the questions a new expansion of your being will come. Suddenly, the journey opens wide a path in front of you and what you have been seeking meets you in the garden of life.

 

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Standing is the Hardest Thing

 

woman inside dark room

~for Joey, August 2019

 

You will run from me — and you,
and I will let you.
I will run from you — and me,
and you will let me.
Standing is the hardest thing.

The toddler learning to walk
is his best in forward, lurching movement.
Some children crawl backwards — first.
The fear in front worse than that behind.
Standing is the hardest thing.

There is a reason men crawl
from the battlefield of bloody excursions,
with wounds and exhaustion,
the out-flowing of life so painfully deep.
Standing is the hardest thing.

It is easy to cease suffering, say the Buddhists:
Die to every truth you ever believed, fall into empty.
Let go every need and want until you disappear —
Free. Falling into a place of no ground.
Standing is the hardest thing.

 

 

Photo by Bianca Salgado on Pexels.com

Teach Me

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What has been taken from me — only illusion!
This vast fountain-spring, life giving water,
knows no lacking, loss, diminishment.

THIS living flow cannot be left —
only momentarily forgotten.   It rises
again and again, THIS powerful water!

I will allow myself this floating; Drowning
in a mystic bliss of Other, One, Only.
Where will you take me, Jewel of my Heart?

I will not fear the journey of Unbecoming!
Loosen the chords, rip the ties that bind me,
Strip the person-flesh mind-voice away —

Breathe me into You; Breathe me into Life.
Let your Breath of Love sustain my heart!
Teach me this Dying Surrender into Home.

 

Photo by Eugene Golovesov on Pexels.com

Soul-Seed

 

The longing intensifies

and I am certain

I am growing —

more insane.

 

How to tell them

this Love of You,

this Mystic Ether

that floats me to You,

like a rose petal on water —

 

How to tell them

that Here in You is Heaven

and if this is Dying

I am unafraid.

 

But this Living —

with one foot in the Earth

and one foot in God’s Heart —

 

Straddling Eternity

is growing difficult.

 

Where would you plant me,

Soul-seed longing for Union;

where, Beloved, will this Flower bloom?

 

 

Humming

 

Christ comes as a dirty, broken beggar.

Buddha comes as a sick bird that needs tending.

Shiva comes as an enemy desiring your destruction.

Atman dances at the Center Expanding.

 

God shows up as a crying child

asking you to bandage His cut knee.

Ram plays hide-and-seek with

Loki and Odin in the Garden.

 

A whisper flutters on the wind,

tells you that you are standing

in the Navel of Creation where

Vishnu is dreaming.

 

Rumi and his Dervishes are dancing in and out

beside you.

As you waver and stumble, watch, go back to standing.

Grace masquerades in all these guises

playing a game of charades with your mind.

 

Don’t fear, dear one, your Soul sees clearly.

Reach out — offer the poor beggar food and water.

Reach out — tend to the sick, bandage the wounds.

Reach out — stroll in the Garden, Dance a new song.

 

Growing into ever deeper circles of Knowing —

you are humming in the breath of Brahma.

do you See?

 

All that God wants

is to be Seen —

 

Like that distant adoring Lover

seeks a glance from the adored Beloved.

 

Look! Here I Am in a bluebird sitting on a branch!

Look! Here I Am in the ocean wave roaring in your ear!

Look! Here I Am in the sand caressing your feet!

Look! Here I Am in the sweet-voiced song of a friend!

Do you See me? All around you in this Living

my Joy and Love for you pours forth —

 

You are Dreaming — Condemnation is a child’s nightmare.

Wake Up!   Look!   Do you See me …

your Beloved always trying to get your Attention.

Do you See?

Siva Refrain

 

Siva calls —

speaks the Fire of Loving Destruction.

The Phoenix becomes flame.

 

Siva calls —

His voice hollowing out the I of I.

The Phoenix becomes ash.

 

Siva calls —

There is nothing but the Nothingness of Siva.

The Phoenix becomes emptiness.

 

Siva calls —

It is time to dance the living.

The Phoenix becomes song.

 

Siva calls —

Siva answers.