How far must I toss my dreams
to be clear of my fears
and my blocks and beliefs and things?
…………………………………………………………..
Into the Outfield, fallow and weedy?
Where sustenance and nurturing
are catch as catch can?
………………………………………………………..
Perhaps it’s best not to toss at all
instead, to plant gently in my heart?
There, fear’s vibration and
the waves of old beliefs
create a song…
It’s all just vibration, after all
it’s up to me to tune it
How may days spent in contemplation
with only the One foremost in the mind?
A few moments here, several there
perhaps a retreat of hours or days
now and again, at some point
Still, like the mustard seed faith
or the scientific magic of leverage
the power of a single moment
plugged into the silence
– the sacred silence in the Presence –
moves mountains of sludge
and self-willful thinking
into the light of Love
Little chickadee
peckin’ at the ground
Here a seed, there a worm
food abounds
He sings for joy
for wherever he goes
All to meet
his needs are found
Groundhog standin’ up
on the prairie-like hillock
surveying his backyard
“Ah!” he thinks
“Life is good!”
He just doesn’t
think it with words
He feels it
in his bones…
Once, there was a little boy
who climbed to the top
of a tree and leaned on the wind
He was exalted
in the midst of Nature
———————————
Now, as a grown man
he still feels the glory of it!
