Question

What happens when I exile blame
and let life be my friend?
Will the ground beneath me crumble,
or will all my bruises mend?

The Lesson

Once upon a time,
Jesus stopped by to give us
a life lesson.

And I got it.

I want to be like water,
to dance with each moment
without holding onto the past.

I want to be liquid and forgiving.

I want to put yielding into life
instead of judgment.

I want to curl around stones
instead of hurl them.

I want my movements to be
informed by oneness.

I want to be a living yes.

Beneficence

Today is a no-temperature day, the kind where there seems to be zero separation between one’s skin and the surrounding sea of oxygen. If heat and cold are mood-despoilers, then this amazing flow of neutrality must be called pure nurturance. People, animals, cars all move about unprotesting. Everything seems held together by kindness.

Of course, it won’t last. Tomorrow could easily toss out gusts of wind and wet. But the mere appearance of this strifeless day reminds me of the space within which is not subject to tides, seasons, quakes, storms. It is not now -not ever- subject to our temporal turmoils because it underlies them. It is the unseen bed of life which is still, formless, unrockable.

Hidden beneath my tightly spun thoughts, there is always a door open to this space. I know this. You know this.

Why do we not use it more often?

The Yes Road

If I took Yes,
and stretched it out for a mile,
then walked on it in my bare feet,
life would like that
and probably tickle my toes.

If I took Yes
and stretched it out for a mile,
then refused to embrace it
with my naked feet,
I would end up walking on sharp stones.

But if I took Yes
and stretched it out for a mile,
then walked on it in my bare feet,
life would like that
and probably tickle my toes.

How To Build A Smile

Appreciate.
Appreciate.
Appreciate.

A child can fall in love
with a piece of string.
A cat can fall in love
with drops of dust.

What did you fall in love with today?

Oh. Oh.
You forgot to fall in love?

Try it now.

Let’s love the day we’re sitting in;
revel in how it rolls out its mysteries
like a drunken artist, hoping someone,
anyone, will notice its design.

Appreciate.
Appreciate.
Appreciate.

Whatever we bless
turns into a poem.

Speaking of Beauty

Any way you cut it, here’s a truth: there’s nothing like sheer smarts flavored with compassion to make the angels dance.

And that’s exactly what we’ve got moving into the Oval Office: a mind with a heart. How did we get this lucky?

What’s riveting about this luminous and brilliant new president is that he doesn’t come from privilege, he has flaws, he was dumped by his father and he can’t bowl. Despite these obvious dents, he has what really counts: he's ecstatic about ideas and his consciousness is wide enough to include all of us.

When a country’s psyche is in shreds, as ours is now, what we need is a blazingly fresh pair of eyes. Eyes that can imagine. Eyes that can explore. Eyes that can hear as well as see.

We got it.

This year, silent Christmas

Yes, I’m giving myself a different Christmas this year: a day of silence. Family members and friends are far away, and so I want to unite with the most illustrious guest I know: Jesus. According to all reports, He does well in silence. It’s His mother tongue.

I’m nowhere near as fluent in silence as Jesus, but I have a sneaking feeling He’ll forgive me. He’s probably tickled pink when any of us are willing to try communicating without words, given our obvious preference for out loud talking.

So even though my silence skills are middling at best, we’ll be sitting together, Jesus and I, and I’ll be listening to every word He doesn’t speak.

If all goes well, He’ll wrap me in a blanket of Peace and put some sweet nuggets of inspiration and awareness into my stocking. He’s good at that.

What do I have for Him? Not much, really. A huge box of gratitude. Awe. The willingness to spend time with the Peace Guru and let Him help me remember He is my brother. Oh, and He can have some of my Cherry Garcia ice cream if He wants.

Don’t get me wrong. I know most people picture Christmas as a scene of heart-softening music, multiple moving bodies and scads of harmonic food, more than you can ever possibly eat. That’s nice, too. I’ve done lots of those Christmases, the kind where you eat yourself silly and laugh at the jokes we tell while we’re cleaning up wrappings and washing up the pots and pans. I’ve never regretted any of those days: they’re just wonderful.

But this year, it’s Silence.