The Wilds

shatter me with grace
destroy me with beauty
hearken the world i long for
on the winds of intrepid breath
howling
sweet loneliness
a wolf in the wilds of my heart
deep in the emerald forest
of souls becoming
i surrender to truth

under the surface

there are things that slip under the surface
aching from skin that works down to bone
while others plunge like
weighted worlds
charging down so swiftly
to the very bottom
where there is finally
a chance to let go
of light and darkness
burdens heavy or slight

it is sometimes
sinking
that will bear us to rise
bubbles of breath
that dance next to death
bring back the life

inhaling,exhaling
both gratitude and despair
depths of feeling
are the air
of the heart and soul

there are things that slip under the surface
a flash of light
a glimpse of something
a ghost
whispered secrets of the inner chambers
only awakened in dreams

i touch the surface of the water
and i see myself
dissolved
a mere illusion
rippling out
infinitely

every single thing

i saw it as
i came around the bend
of that moment

sharp chill of sunrise
slanted angle of light

morning magic
sleight of hand
the way it deceives the eyes

but perhaps it tells the truth
in its way of slow reveal

i could barely make the shape
my attention took the bait

drew me close
right down to ground

i looked so as to see

this broken thing
before me

beaded slipper
torn open at the toe

discarded

beautiful as any broken piece
of my own being

i have cast away

seeing it i wept
for what i left behind
around the certain bends
that have come and gone in life

and perhaps that is all
worn out and laid to waste

a pilgrim seeking myself
having traveled so far

ripped and ragged now

i searched for some reason
for such a cruel reality

that perhaps loss is a sacrament
and what remains is enough

 what is broken is still sacred

a little further on
the temple kept its vigil

there standing firm
sparkling in new born sun

i walked to its gate
breathing in incense

the chiming of a bell
a lone voice chanting

a language i do not know
but i understand

it sings
every single thing is holy

Home of the Brave

Where is the home of the brave,
 for those who seek it now?
 Life and liberty we love,
 if for one, then for all.

Light the fiery torch,
brighter now to see
the truth beyond all fear
that sets the captives free.

Revealing what we've been
and what we hope to be,
knowing now we choose
what becoming will.

Captains of our ship
we sail by star and faith,
creating our own destiny,
 what we destroy
  what we save.

In this we are defined
our actions prove our way.
Rise up!
Stand strong!
Make a home for the brave!

peace offering

the world is on fire
all teeth and claws
swift and vicious
the fury that erupts
in gunshots and hate

many rush to
fight fire with fire
hoping to vanquish the enemy
or keep their hearts safe

but see

they have forgotten their tears
sweet antidote to flames
the salve of sorrow that
clears the eyes of rage

sitting in our grief
being with our pain
touching tenderness
we remember each other

i gather sacred water
in my small cupped hands
and offer you a drink

The Virtue of Humility

Humility:
the quality or condition of being humble; modest opinion or estimate of one's own importance, rank, etc.


Humility is espoused as a great virtue. I can't say how many times I have heard people praised for their humble nature, or conversely criticized for holding themselves too high in their own esteem, branded as arrogant or pompous. I wonder at what point do we end up sacrificing our confidence to meet the expectation of staying humble? In a world where many people are barely scraping by in the department of self esteem, where self image is already darkened with insecurity, and beliefs of being "not good enough" are epidemic, how does this concept of humility serve us in living our best lives? How does it help us step out of the shadows of self doubt and bring our gifts to life, to serve not only ourselves, but the world? The way we currently define this quality of humility forces us to downplay our talents, requires us to stay smaller than we really are, convinces many of us to remain followers even when we are called to lead, because it is the polite and right thing to do. This limiting ideal of humility affects some groups more than others, women and other minorities, those typically already in a power deficit, are additionally hindered by such humiliation. We were raised this way, educated and coached this way, society praises it and we pass it on to the next generation, just because that's how it has always been done.

In yoga we typically use the salutation, namaste, to begin and end practice. Namaste means, "The light or spirit in me, honors the light or spirit in you.".  It is a recognition of the essential goodness and wisdom that we all carry within us.

I think it is time to adjust our definition and application of humility to align with the truth, that we all possess this inner light, this essential goodness. What if we all were firmly grounded in the belief that every single person is worthy and valuable, that we all serve an important purpose in this journey we call life? I think the world needs more illumination, more inspiration , more brilliance. My greatest happiness would be to see my children discover the things that fill them with joy and excitement, light those torches up within themselves, stoke their sacred fire, and let it be seen in all directions, without ever feeling that they are required to hold anything back. By expanding the light that shines from within us we then can see others more clearly as well. Perhaps, instead of needing to cut ourselves, or others down, so as not to appear inflated, we can discover a way to rise together.

Why shouldn't humility be about elevating and expanding instead of withholding and diminishing?

Humility should be the virtue of knowing that you have purpose and brilliance in you, and so does everyone else. No one person is above another, we are all entitled to express our unique and important purpose in life, whatever that may be. More love, less judgment. More confidence, less fear. More yes, less no.

We are all beautiful, unique, gifted, feeling, talented, beings of light and spirit. We all are needed and we all have value. The problem is, for many of us, that knowledge is never imparted, our torches don't get lit, we are not helped along. We need to help ourselves, but additionally, we need to bring each other up, we need to invest in each other's success and well being. Mastery and achievement are certainly of value and should be recognized and celebrated, but those who have attained mastery, and who have achieved excellence, those who are leaders, can embody humility, not by downplaying their accomplishment, but through generous service; by sharing their gifts and utilizing them to inspire others to shine.

Maybe I am being an idealist here, but I know there is truth in this ideal. I believe we can move towards this enlightenment. I pray for it.

“A thousand candles can be lighted from the flame of one candle, and the life of the candle will not be shortened. Happiness can be spread without diminishing that of yourself.” ~ Mahatma Gandhi

A Ghost Story

In Tibetan Buddhism, Hungry Ghosts have their own realm and are represented as teardrop or paisley-shaped with bloated stomachs and necks too thin to pass food, such that attempting to eat is also incredibly painful. Some are described as having "mouths the size of a needle's eye and a stomach the size of a mountain". This is a metaphor for people futilely attempting to fulfill their illusory physical desires.

i set out
unknown course
grasping for some latitude
the day and I
go together
searching for a clue
some small sign
a flash of light
a remembered tune
a recollection
it will be a miracle
a treasure
a scrap of myself
that i can hold up in the wind
saying
here i am

I am here. I am alive, but sometimes I feel invisible, as though I am really half ghost.
I wonder where I belong. Why am I here?

I sense myself lost at sea, a vast internal ocean that keeps me separate, keeps me searching, keeps me hungry. I have a hunger that is never satisfied. The ghost in me is ravenous, with a sieve for a stomach. She is a bottomless pit, a sinkhole. She wants it all, and all would never be enough. All the success, acclaim, friends, beauty, wealth, love, in the world, would never fill the gut of the hungry ghost.

I have tried to soothe this part of me. I have tried to send her away. I have denied her existence and tried to put her in the attic or the basement, but she just rattles her chains, deafeningly loud. I have tried to numb her with alcohol, drugs, food, accomplishment and all manners of escape.

I have tried to feed her. She always wants more. She is the mother of addiction. Addiction is the definition of this hunger. She can't be fed, she must be healed.

I am finding a way to heal my hungry ghost.

I have walked through so much fear following the trail of chains that bind my ghost and me. My search led me directly into the heart of a dark void, the core of this hunger. In order to free my ghost I have to know her, deeply and intimately, as a sister, my kin. I have to look her in the face. I have to hold my eyes wide open and see the truth, full and clear and painful. I have to open to the grief that this ghost embodies. Things that have been lost along the way, dreams that withered, yearnings unfulfilled, wounds that have been inflicted, and all the ways that I have come to the wrong conclusion that I am not enough. There was a moment that planted the seed of this misshapen idea that I must strive to be more, something other than just me. That seed grew, and it was nourished by all the messages, coming from so many directions, messages that I could not possibly be whole as I was, as I am. As it grew, it strangled pieces of me, starved some of my aliveness, leaving a hollowness that longs to be filled, that aches for nourishment.

I have been on a quest to fill that hollow. I want to set the ghost free and bring her peace.

After so much frustration at attempting to fill that hole from the outside in, I realized that this hunger must be met from the inside out. No one else could ever love me enough to bring me contentment. I would have to meet my ghost alone, out in that sea. I am the only one who can finally heal her.

I am enough and I possess the medicine and wisdom to bring this to completion. I have always had it. I have the perfect and infinite power of divine love in me. Just like you. Just like everyone. I also know I am not the only one who has been harboring a ghost. Maybe this sounds familiar in some way to you. If it does, I think we are in good company.

We forget who we are. The ghost distracts us and leads us away from ourselves. I forgot myself, my true and complete self, for a long time. I fade in and out now, moments of remembrance are increasing though. I catch glimpses, that are becoming gazes of truth. Clarity is coming, I am stepping out of the fog. I am reaching out of the darkness and reclaiming my light.  It is a long and arduous path, and yet, such a rich journey, it offers so many gifts.

I did some intense work on this at a retreat this summer. I told my spiritual circle about this ghost, and how I have been hanging on to things that have passed, how I am haunted by regret and how I long for a self that seems out of reach. My inner little girl still crying and heartbroken over what might have been and if only. We acted out a burial of that little girl, lost and wandering, and we brought her back, whole and new, fully alive and in the now. Then my dear friends told me how they see me. They named the gifts I bring to the world. They helped me see myself. Together we worked to put a bottom on the sieve that has been leaking my power and emptying my joy.

Something shifted at that retreat. I took a large step towards integration. Integration is the key. Healing this wound is not an extraction. It is not an exile. It is in fact, a welcoming, a homecoming; a way of speaking to this spirit about coming to shore after a long time at sea. I say to my ghost, "I see you. I love you. Come have a rest." I take her in my arms and separation falls away, and really, it never was. Our wounds, in truth, are our gifts, and to that I deeply bow.