Tuesday, August 24, 2010

A Walk With You

What silent mysteries
Shudder in your soul?

What quiet moonlight
Falls upon the ridge

Of your back? Deeper
Where the shimmering

pool quakes. What whispered
There beyond the dream?

What thoughts drive you to
The wonder in your eyes?

What beauties sing in your
Heart, and what loves?

What distances between
The trees, and what fogs

Across the meadows of dew?
What morning is born there

With you upon the wings
of dawn? What shimmer?

What rainbow? What throb?
What gentle caress? What

Held in my arms, firm
But soft, not as a captive

But as a conquerer?
What futures and what pasts?

What silent mystery
shudders in my soul?

Saturday, May 15, 2010

The Garden

I enter the garden
it is quiet here
peaceful
serene

the silence fills the air
like a trickling fountain

there are those who stand about
and wear their peace
like robes of solitude
basking in the beauty

I make my way first
toward the mother
who sits enthroned in the center
my trembling genuflection
briefly passing between us
as I bend over and kiss
the worn smooth surface
of her face

this is my window
into heaven

I rise and make my way to another
and when I have kissed them all
I take my place amidst
the waiting ones

we enlarge our hearts
and empty them
the smooth silk of hope
rising from a passing censor


* * *

It echoes inside...

For many months I have wearied myself
from this walk of disruption

I see as if in a dream
that I have sent countless lives
into a turmoil
with my kicking
and thrashing
and longing to be understood

I have work to do
why don't I just leave everyone alone
and go back to it?


* * *

The beauty consumes me
it soothes my weary mind
and laps at the edges of my soul
like the waters of a peaceful lake

I make myself invisible
but still I feel the eyes
burning into my back
the side of my face
my soul – the eyes
and the questions

the sense of loss
and the sense of anger
everywhere I go
those eyes!
once filled with such
mystery and wonder

(perhaps I should not remember
it like this, but instead
the greeting smile)

* * *

I unfold my heart
and tell him everything
I have inside

there's the look of weariness
the sense that he feels so helpless
as the healer – how to heal my soul

we go through the motions
because that is all we have
grace must come from beyond us


* * *

I resume my place again
in the grove

the new leaves shine brightly
glistening as tears

the bark is white and smooth
you can feel the sap
coursing through veins

a breeze comes through the branches
a song

I breathe
that's what I am here for

and everyone else?
they have each entered their private garden
and who am I to guess or say
what they find there?

I must forget them
leave them
and find myself alone
amidst the chaos and beauty

we are humanity
each and all and every one
a single unique humanity


* * *

the shafts of light come through the trees
glistening on the prayers as they rise
their subtle nuances caressing the soul

I know the best place to be in this life
it is here in the grove
amidst the holy ones
verdant with the beauty of open arms
as they rise up their sturdy trunks
to the heavens

there they are crowned with praise

and I find myself so insignificant

even my sins become nothing more
than compost
to feed them


* * *

I wear my folly as a crown
woven in leaves of springtime
and autumn

I cast my cares as bread
to the birds that are willing to take them


* * *

the silence echoes again
the silence and the beauty
my eyes are filled with tears
and I hope no one can see them

they will lock me up
if they find me here like this

in our world
tears must be hidden

I need not ask myself their cause
but I ask myself if that is as it should be

I explore blind alleys
and dark hallways
in my soul
the paths that perhaps
should be left unexplored

the silence and the mystery
and the beauty goes on around me
I am there, but I am not
I am somewhere within here
captivated by my hopes and my dreams
lost in the dying breath of my ambition

I find a true gem
to hold as my own sorrow

I will wear this sorrow
as a glory and a crown

It is the sorrow that I care not what others think
but will forge my way forward into the unknown
because I believe it is the holiest of holies
who has made for me a path there

it is a lonely path
private and misunderstood

when I love someone or something
it is seen as decadence and obsession

when I give up someone or something
it is seen as hopelessness and despair

such is the way of the poet

we are not meant to live true
but to live in never-ending layers of falsehood
each wrapped
more tightly about ourselves than the last

an accommodation to all who find us
to give them the means to calculate the measure of our souls
because most people cannot endure to encounter
something they cannot quantify and measure


* * *

the beauty comes back to me again
as a breeze

the branches sway and glisten
the shafts of light seem to alter
slightly as if a passing ghost
has disturbed them

a song arises from the woods
my heart is so full I cannot bear it

I know the path I must walk on
I know that forgiveness and understanding
is in the depths of the woods
dark, dank and deep
on my left-hand and my right
but my path is straight forward
toward the light
glistening with my tears

I will encounter reconciliation
when they are ready
to give up the lies they've chosen to believe

it is not for me to choose the place
or the time, but to walk forward
carefully and cautiously into the unknown
bright with beauty and mystery
glistening as the stars


* * *

the garden dissolves around me
I am a different man now
but I have not given up the truth

the wood, the hay, the stubble
it has been burnt up in the fires of beauty

now truth rises up as a gemstone in my heart
a sapphire burning brightly with mystery
a ruby burning brightly with passion
an emerald glistening green with promise
a diamond glistening with hope

there are mysteries I have encountered here
there has been conflict and misunderstanding
I bear much of the fault
and tears will come again
because I know this

but I cannot bear the fault
nor blame myself
for someone else choosing to believe a lie
and there is nothing I can do to convince
anyone of the truth

I will walk forward in hope
and beauty of soul
I will walk forward in determination
and in truth

if falsehood and lies snatches at my feet again
I will trample them beneath my heel
but I will not stop on this journey

* * *

I come to the garden again and again

it is in my soul

Wednesday, February 03, 2010

Boundaries

how can I love them all?
how fit them all inside?
the heart has no bounds
and yet there is turmoil and confusion

Selah

to love them all
fit them all inside
this boundless heart
to nourish those who need it with love
to cherish their dreams and ambitions
as if they were my own

to reach out and to embrace
to kiss a face full of tears
and provide a shoulder
strong arms to shelter from the storm
and warmth to nourish the soul

there is only so much room here in my heart
how do I love one without making another jealous?
how do I know what portion to give to each?
and if I give
does what remains get any smaller?
is there enough for everyone?

a shelter from the pain of loss
holding a world of dreams
and sorrows

to rise from the ashes of misunderstanding

there are some places I cannot reach
some corners of the hearts that have found shelter in me
that will not let me draw near

how can I shine a light in those dark places?
how can I drive away haunting memories and fears?

I cannot turn toward the face that smiles
and neglect the one that sorrows
I cannot give myself to the innocent and young
neglecting those who hold epochs of misery
how to write them all
in such a way that they are given back their vision?
how to inscribe my mysteries in their hearts
so that each can be named and enumerated?

to give wings to some dreams
without crushing others
to give love to someone in need
without leaving others wanting
to spread myself out across the universe
without spreading myself to thin

there are no boundaries to the heart that sings

Tuesday, February 02, 2010

The Empty Spot

There is an empty spot
in my soul
a hunger

and I keep filling it up

with poison

I fill, and empty, and scrape away the torn tissue and unfulfilled dreams
so that each time the empty spot is cleansed of its impurities
it gets bigger

some day I fear it will swallow me


* * *

there is love, yes even love
in my soul that the empty spot cannot consume

there is fear and trembling

there is a quiet wind
and a breath of peace

there are gentle wings rising upon the dawn

that gives me hope

* * *

There is an empty spot
in my soul
a thirst

and I keep filling it

with tears

I fill, and empty, and scrape away the torn tissue and unfulfilled dreams
so that each time the empty spot is cleansed of its impurities
it gets bigger

some day I fear it will drown me

* * *

there is love, yes comes again
with gentle smile and tender words

there is fear and trembling

there is a quiet wind
and a breath of peace

do not break the heart of the dove

that gives me hope


* * *

There is an empty spot
in my soul
a hunger

and I keep filling it

with desire

I fill, and empty, and scrape away the torn tissue and unfulfilled dreams
so that each time the empty spot is cleansed of its impurities
it gets bigger

some day I fear it will burn me

* * *

there is love, yes love again
hidden in the darkness and shadow

there is hope and anguish

there is a quiet wind
and the stench of death

there are scales dropping to the dust

that gives me hope

* * *

dream.... of peace and understanding, of anguish no more
of possibility and meaning
of wholeness...

the salt stings, the fire burns, the eyes look through my soul
and all that I am is emptiness
with a place inside for you

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

[Please keep in mind that this is entirely a work of fiction!]

I agonized on the drive home over all the things in my heart that are currently disturbing me. I counted them, numbered them, schemed.

And I remembered those who loved me.

When I arrived at home I would attend to them first, discussing with them some important plans that had been eluding me, some important issues that were facing us as a family. We would discuss them and come to terms, and invoke a plan, and follow it. All would be well.

And once it was well, I would retire to my cave and seek out the things that distress me in my own heart. There I would agonize over them in the darkness as I do now.

There I would attend to them and make them my own. I would not name them, no they would name me. And I would touch every pain in every dark corner of my soul. I would poke at each and disturb it, because I could no longer bear not knowing each distortion by name. I could no longer bear hiding from myself my own sins.

It didn't work out this way.

I arrived at home and unleashed my anguish on those I loved. We discussed those things that had been eluding us, but through an agony of phrases and misspent words. We came to terms, but fell short of invoking a plan. There were tears and there was love and there were hugs and affection.

And then a moment or two of peace.

Now I retire to my cave to attend to my foolishness, to touch the places that hurt so that I know I am alive. I stare into the darkness, hoping to see a glimmer of some incandescent beauty that will nourish my soul. But all I see is the darkness, staring back at me like a bitter black mirror.
It has been a really long time since I've posted here.

I'm going to cut the nonsense, and go directly to the heart. Please consider yourselves forewarned.

Monday, March 22, 2004

Mind Like an Onion

Today I got in my Daily Buddhist Wisdom the following:

"Our mind is like an onion, and each day and month of practice progressively peels away the layers of delusion."

-Geshe Ngawang Dhargyey, "Advice From a Spiritual Friend"

Ain't that great!

Well, I'm no Buddhist (I read these things because they are entertaining and thought provoking) but I thought it was kinda spooky the way this topic popped up. Peeling away the layers of delusion! Yes, that's what I'm doing now that I'm free from the Eternal Order of the Onion!

Regards

Teddy


Saturday, March 13, 2004

The End of the Onion

Well, at long last it has come to an end. I finally saw through their fraud and brought to an end an "adventure" of some long months serving the Order of the Onion.

It was a single thing that sparked the downfall of the Order in my eyes: I wanted to write an article.

Well, with all this practice (okay, I admit I haven't been posting lately) I decided to write a little essay on the Order of the Onion. Well, really there were two problems with that. For one, they were never going to let me publish my little essay anyhow - more on that later. And second, when I started digging into the past of the Order of the Onion I found some unusual circumstances - well, unusual is probably an understatement!

Well, we all know the purported history of the Order of the Onion. If you don't know the whole story, you can read about it here. Anyway, it supposedly all began in an Iowa onion farmer's field. (You notice I don't capitalize onion any more?) Well, I decided to do some research on John Mack, the onion farmer, and what do you think I found out? The best that anyone can tell me, Mr. John Mack, onion farmer who on that famed starry August night in 1943 had a vision in his field, never even existed! That's right. I couldn't find a shred of evidence that he ever existed.

And what do you think Jer Meloncampf (that fraud!) said when I asked him about this?

"Maybe you shouldn't be writing this article at this time? It appears as if you are not ready for it. You are not yet wholly attune to your inner onion."

Wholly attune to my inner onion? What a crack-pot! I'm just flabbergasted that it took me so long to realize it. All those late nights standing on street corners in downtown Seattle handing out tracts.

Well, I didn't realize it right at first.

"I've been trying," I said.

It was true. I had been every Thursday night to the unraveling session in the onion bowl (a completely spherical room at their Seattle Church Headquarters.)

"You know, we knew we were taking a risk letting a level 1 initiate write an essay about the Big O." (That's what those wise crackers call it, the Big O.)

"But you said this would be good for me. Help me launch my writing career."

Well, I realized right then: that was the bottom line. What I really wanted deep down inside all along was to become a writer. But what I also realized may have been far more important. They were never going to let me publish my article in the first place. It was all a big fraud - another aspect of their freakish mind control. In fact, I'm tempted to think they are not actually connected with The Onion like they said.

So, now I've actually abandoned the Order of the Onion and I'm going to try to become a writer on my own.

More later!

T.a.d.