Category Archives: nature

Veiling/Un-veiling

What will it take

this journey that is already fulfilled –complete –honored

what will it take to begin this journey

as if there is no end

 

And what will it take

to live within each step

as if the placing of these feet

on hard or soft or bogged or bright ground

 

somehow will right me –restore me –save me

from what I am and am not

as if there is a confusion there

carried through these eons of loss and gravitation

 

There is None No-one who says

what can be done or not done

There is no one marking the way

not as yet as I can see

 

And yet there is an encounter

something real and palpable

and perhaps mistaken for real

–the light can cast in myriad of ways

 

In the mists veiling my own Silence

words curl around the nooks

of my bones and flesh –lighting down

making a landing, offering solace

 

These words here now –parched –dry

picked up as breadcrumbs

but it is simply unknown who or what

left them here –was it me? –was it You?

 

This quandary calls out the insight

the timeless continuity of All That Is

what comes before when there is no beginning

and in no end –what conclusions might arise?

 

Taking it off –taking it on

covering and uncovering

placing and wait as grace returns

Emanating Silence –this brilliance like no other

Twine of Earth and Sky ~ Bless of Being

 

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The tides turn and turn, shifting

but still there is little to scour

 

Flotsam is not splayed about

upon the beach-like shores

 

Yet light glints off a found face

sparking brilliantly its presence

 

This seeing is by an eye observed within

of the heart cracked with a new interiority

 

What of this seeing  when it doesn’t match

any concentrated sense of what it is to exist

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Does that suggest that this light, the glint

from within, is false or imagined somehow?

 

Heartily no! This shine is even brighter yetIMG_20150729_193458476

as it is seeing that has gained its illumination

 

We’ve somehow always known we see partially

whether we look closely or beg far-sightedness

 

What once remained mute in its invisibility

cascading like dark matter in vast space

 

Now is our epigenetic wonder and remaking

solace of grace and forthrightness of splendor

 

 

A Letter As Separate Self Dissolves (photo collage)

A Letter As Separate Self JPEGDear Followers of Contemplative Fire,

Thank you all (especially for the recent followers in 2015, who I haven’t had a chance to thank yet!) I have just created the above collage version of a poem of mine from back in February to share with a community, which I am part of, who are meeting in person soon. This photo collage version of my poetry is BRAND NEW for me.

Thanks for the help in getting it posted directly on the blog, Adam!

Blessings and love to you all!

5 HAIKU poems

 

Twilight bestows light

Amongst the branches touching

Caterpillar crawls

 

Winter dark ocean

Another realm submerged there

Breathing nothing drowns

 •

 

Sit-upon stone cold

Newness of life awake, dancing

The dog returns home

 

Light in the wood cast

Falling and also rising

I am that I am

 

Cherishing like earth

I soak in the springtime rains

Instantaneously

 

25, 26 May 2015

Hoarfrost

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It arrived as seeming magic yesterday morning

like a new reality being seen for the first time

and remains today sharing its glow still.

 

This touch comes via its recognition –cold but not

A distinct warmth arrives unbidden. The eye

is relieved of its usual work on these mornings

 

Dispensing with its familiar taint formed of other

kinds of vapor, which we gather throughout our

day to day interactions with this stuff of reality.

 

Hoarfrost permeates much the same in its blanketing

of every surface nook and cranny, defying gravity, comes

only when called out by the elements, its conspirators.

 

Colors shift and change, the light dances new dances

–a communion of deep appreciation of living things

that have their own mastery and workings reaches me.

 

This day to day eye softens its course, lays down its tools,

puts aside whatever ways it’s become accustomed to

seeing the world and takes an in breath, yes, breathes in.

 

San Cristobal, NM

10 January 2015

Overt Folly Gentle Song

In the leaving always a return
As sure as spring follows winter
And yet long are some winters
Uncharacteristically long ~ forgetting yet
What rests within ~ a supreme patience
And a recognition that pales any other

In this realm Timelessness reigns
and there is no departing that scars

Such is the wisdom of Life, life beholden
That voice rising along the purest of paths
Untainted from what seem too many diversions
Beacons all from the same source
The oil of that lamp eternal font
Cascade in all measures, as well as none

We come together here, this confluence
the large and the small, high and low
Traveling farther than reaches seen
sooner than expected and later too

This perfection is the last thing to wear that name
Its warmth need never be restored
As what appears to falter is not That
Even what appears to never falter is not That

And as another winter approaches
Its spring calls simultaneously
All bound together in the same music
Note by note  warmth and pale, bright and cool.

At Two O’Clock

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The clouds moving, nearly
Imperceptibly closer than,
I move to the east side

The eaves shelter from
More than the rains
Good Samaritan design

Noon stands out acting
The Prima Dona except
In loneliness and reaches

Then to One and Two
For company inviting
Them early for tea

Some days no one wants
Near and turns away to
Find the most ready refuge

Awaiting their turn
Their moment in the sun
Patience is a virtue

Blessings come to those
And yet… the winds pick up
Darker under bellies seen

Two O’clock is inconsistent
It’s her way or her luck of the draw
Maybe both perhaps neither

Today she was thinking
About that tea invitation
Chameleon writ large

Seeking anonymity in
The heat of the afternoon
Hoping to get off the hook

For what others have
Come to expect of her
That “time of the day”

And yet it’s all so fleeting
Yesterday’s invitation
A glimmer, is not Today’s

El Rito – Kagyu Mila Guru Stupa campground

8-16-14 2:59pm

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Circle Through

I sit in the shade
the shadow of nature
taking refuge

A kind of solace
offered everyday for this
one and all

Nothing asked
in return and nothing
offered to possess

Only mistaken
identities get burned off here
and the rest remains

Stepping in and out
of the light we call Humanity
something there

Casts no shadow
when seen As It Is
simply abiding

Not requiring even
an ounce of dignity or regret
as all is equal here

A here where
there is no there or here
nothing set apart

The dance of light
all circles like the sun
invite our fantasies

But invite yourself
to remain As You Are
in the truest sense

Not embellishing
resting in the purity of things
nothing more

Nothing less than
what we are is astounding
pause and see

Virtual Blog Tour and the Sometimes Perhaps

Welcome. Thank you for following the thread that brought you here.

The notion of a virtual blog tour landed here upon being sparked by my dear friend and colleague Daniel Ari, who made the initial suggestion that I might like to participate in such a tour, following his blog tour post (a poet friend and colleague had invited him.) I felt the spark land and since then the question has been did the spark become an ember and did the ember survive? Or perhaps another question might be was it a virtual spark and does it, now, have what it takes to light this contemplative, virtual fire? Perhaps. Shall we see?

What is not a perhaps is the whole-hearted conspirator I find in Daniel Ari, the person, being, and creator afire. I invite you to visit his blog Fights With Poems, as long as you have more than a moment to explore and drop in. Daniel’s projects are a many (writing, publishing, teaching, collective blogging and more), his stretch is broader than most and not confined by his idea of himself, if I can say so. One project of note is his forthcoming book, One Way to Ask, a book of querons, a poetry form of Daniel’s originality, inspiration, and making. For this book, he is collaborating on many levels with artists and other co-conspirators, which has Daniel’s signature of ever-ready-to-remake-oneself with each sitting, writing, and re-versing. It has been my honor and stimulation both to be included in amongst the co-conspirators included in this book. I look forward to the publication of One Way to Ask. 

And thank you, Daniel, for inviting me once again into territory that I may not otherwise find myself in if it weren’t for you and our connection! (Another such invitation from Daniel brought numerous years of my participation in his collective blog, IMUNURI. Currently Daniel has 131 submissions there, I have 57, and ten other poets have submitted their works/poems there, as well.)

 

A photographic interlude as the blog tour continues…

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The Virtual Blog Tour comes with these party-c-pant questions (putting on these party pants is one way to participate!)

1) What am I working on?

I don’t know what I am working on until I am working on it. Even then, while I am “working on” something, it is more precisely working me or opening out through me or pondering within this persona/non-persona. It doesn’t seem to be my way or mode (at this time) to know what I am working on. What does come, at times, is some kind of knowing being expressed through words on paper or words being typed on a computer or iPod screen. Question #4 seems to be creeping into #1.

2) How does my work differ from others of its genre?

Similarly, I am not aware of my poetry and writing being of a specific genre type. If you know otherwise, please let me know! Ha! What comes through as poetry seems to be unique to itself. I will say something that does come to say around this question: the poetry I write comes from or via direct experiencing, an internal voicing or somatic experiencing as the words present themselves. I would not say that I don’t think about what I write, but something like that. It seems to me that I am ready when something seems to come through and have easiness of expression as words in some kind of structure close to what we call a poem. Poems as awareness as felt sense, perhaps.

3) Why do I write what I do?

“Why do I do what I do?” as a question seems to come out of some unseen or unconscious motivation to seek security (or need to know) when security of that kind is simply non-essential. So, for me, there is not an need to answer such a question. The poems ponder enough on their own and simply get written (or not.)

4) How does my writing process work?

There are tastes of this question in the previous answers 1, 2, and 3. What else I might share here is that there is some kind of seeding and then a gestation period and then, perhaps, a kind of birthing in the writing. The writing usually takes my full attention and is something that moves through and I respond in the now. Often there is the anticipation of something before it finds its form as words on paper, mostly as poetry, sometimes as contemplative writing in prose, sometimes in photography or a combination of the aforementioned.

The writing is a kind of direct experience, as in I am present for something as it is felt and expresses as words. The photography, too, is a kind of calling or marking of direct experience and has a numinous quality within it. What gets expressed, conveyed, felt, or sensed through the sharing of these, I also do not know what that might be. It is like breathing for me. Or at least that is how it comes today to write about such things.

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Monsoon skies in El Rito north of Questa, New Mexico ~ July 2014

And finally, the blog tour may continue in a similar fashion to above, if I have other bloggers to invite for you to check out with blog tour posts of their own. However, I found that I did not have currently active bloggers to invite!  So I invited both a poet/artist and a songwriter/musician/poet to start their own blogs such that they could be included with accolades in this Virtual Blog Tour.

Perhaps they will do just that and at least one new blogger will be featured here in short time. I will update this entry with their URL and some of what inspired me to invite them to participate. Perhaps.

 

3 poems from northern New Mexico

arriving with the full moon ~ July 10, 11 2014

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while camping near the Kagyu Mila Guru Stupa, north of Questa, NM

1. What Pause

We have our things

Even if we have very little

or essentially nothing

Not threadbare are any of us

And some semblance of things

is brought together, even if

just to drink this or eat that

 

We can sit on the ground

The body will sleep when it comes time

the preoccupation of belongings

is such a high order in our lives

that it is nearly invisible

 

I pause to think, as if thinking is

the way, how to live

on the land with no amenities

 

It seems preposterous

Just sit on the ground?

Rest under a tree?

Wait until batteries run out

and then be silent?

 

As if Silence was not there

all along

Everything we eat, drink, sleep

is there in the Silence

 

Everything we are

is that Silence

 

2. Doorway: Empty As

We love an entry into.

Leave an opening

And something will move thru

Even if just pretend.

So when we really go thru

What then?

 

Is there no going back?

We’ve moved between

And are never the same.

Something has passed

From here to there

And back again is only onward.

 

We pine for what was

Looking thru What Is

Trying to see something

Other than

What simply is, Just This.

 

And pining, things just look the same

But never are

Or are so inextricably

The same it would take

The widest open eyes

To see This

And not see something else.

 

Perhaps it is the putting aside

Of what the eyes see

And letting things be

As empty as they are

Each thing a doorway

To itself

Nothing more, nothing less.

 

In that entry

We move as all direction

Within and without

Leaving nothing aside

Going nowhere but everywhere

Without departure.

 

And the openings

Await nonetheless

Waiting as the perceivable

In the perceiving

As they are

As they are.

 

3. Do and Not Do

When there is nothing to do

Something seems to be found to do

It’s a circus we didn’t even

realize we had tickets for

and have been going to

all so regularly

 

It looks like life

And yet life isn’t doing

Life just happens

All on its own

No tickets necessary!

There is no grand entry, no backstage

 

Just ask the wind

the thunder

the rain

None of these need permission

And cannot be kept

Under lock and key

 

There is no one to pay

Even if that makes us

Feel more real somehow

 

We have so many wallets

all around and everywhere

Most of them hidden away

(what are we protecting, really?)

But there they are

What good would it be

if we didn’t find ways to fill them?

 

Is it a question of good?

Or is it a question of a day

yet upon us when all

bartering ceases

 

And something yet known,

however already conceived,

bursts forth taking us

as we are

as our most direct

Unfettered, alive beyond word

 

Nothing need be done

The question of do and not do

Too will cease