Tuesday, May 19, 2009

A poem in the morning green

I listened to the birds this morning - as I have been doing for some mornings past.
I was a visitor in their world.
And honored so.
Grateful, no.
More like Tiger Woods - after he sinks the 20 footer to win...
he is not grateful, least not for the win.
He is glorious in celebrating
the culmination of his work.

I have arrived here by my own power and how, I ask, is one grateful for his own power?
To say I am grateful for my life would be to admit some force in its creation.
I am certainly grateful to my parents for loving me the only way they knew
and I believe, in the most general sense, that success for a child
is life, life with no guarantees.
We are not so far advanced that a child born from a mother should be able to take life for granted.
So in that sense, my parents have been successful in raising me.
Everything else is subjective.
And therefor less powerful.

My journey - what a wondrous and fearfilled thing it has been.
Conformity lies
in the deepest pools of human perception.
We all scream out - for all our lives - scream out that we are different
when really all we need to do to honor our difference is to be quiet and look inward.

The Dali Lama said that inner peace and simplicity where his greatest, most reliable friend.
I am grateful he has chosen the path he has chosen because there are now words to put
to what I feel and have felt.
Not that inner peace and simplicity are my greatest and most reliable friend
but something like that.
Something like the understanding, from my needle point in time
looking back for wisdom and forward so I don't trip - 
like a top constantly spinning on a single line
moving through time
A top with senses and a mind and living body.

I feel inward and grasp the knowledge that I
I am my most reliable and my greatest friend
such a subtle taste for so powerful the knowledge
with one scream or just the notion of looking outward
will make me pass it
and keep me hidden from myself.
But as time slows by power of breath - time - time, this human created thing
as I slow it - like a train pulling into the station before it leaves again
the blur turns to sight
and the station markings become readable
as they always have been.

No comments: