Notes to Myself - 11

There are no successes or failures....only choices. There is a need to look at 'success' or 'failure' only when there is a need to control an outcome of a choice. And a need to control the learning that happens so naturally from those choices. In our oft-impelling need to understand this 'mysterious' learning, gain control over it and nail it in a coffin, are we looking for a structure or a pedagogy, where there is nothing but a joyous celebration of all of life?

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The space where I 'long to be' is where I truly 'belong'.

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Somewhere beyond the fields of right and wrong, judgement and opinion, beliefs and non-beliefs, pedestal and pedestrian, silence and noise, poetry and prose, pride and prejudice, is a place where I long to be...

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Love yourself enough to be true to yourself.
Trust yourself enough to know that you can handle it.
Love life enough to share your truth with others.
Trust life enough to know that they can handle it.

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Life is about learning when and how to get out of cycles and patterns that no longer serve you or your higher purpose.....when to stay away and when to stay with, when to stand up for yourself and when to stand up for others...and life constantly keeps you on your toes to figure this out :)

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My learning today: When something that happens outside disturbs me, it is a clue to know where to look even deeper......to look within, not without...to love that part of me which is crying for attention and love.

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True giving is not about 'giving' of oneself, but about 'being' oneself....it is not about 'giving' to fill a hole or an emptiness inside you or the other; it is about giving because you are so complete (even with your many holes) that you neither have to 'take' nor 'give'. You just have to simply BE. And let Life use you the way she wants to.

A Postscript

I speak my heart,
I sing my song -
a thousand names
for pain and joy;
a desperate clinging
to moments
of not knowing
that flow and melt
like lemon drops
in the mouth of a child,
with no beginning or end;
and yet I scurry
like a fearful rabbit
looking to capture that hole
through which
all things pass -
known and unknown;
the hole
I think and believe
is me.

Waves

walking along the water's edge
where thoughts and emotions
crash as one wave
upon a silent shore,
where I learn the steps
of this timeless dance -
the coming
and the going,
the thrill of waiting
without waiting,
the emptiness
of a yearning -
a curtain drawn back,
slowly revealing
the hidden story
of a painful
parting of ways;
and in that moment
where time and space
stop for a rest
in your majestic form,
I feel you in me -
the last note
of a song I know
in my cells and sinews,
the messenger of silence,
the womb of a new beginning,
the ancient temple
where pilgrims like me
come to rest
on a tireless journey,
to hear a song
that we have forgotten
how to sing.

Walking Home

I know the way home.

I can see it
through
the blinding fog
of heavy darkness
swaddling
my trembling self;

I can hear
the drumbeats
of my heart
moving to
a crescendo
with every step;

I can taste
the sea-salt air
that stings and riles
my rusty form
steeped in beliefs
steeled over time;

I can smell
the vestiges
of my old self
after a moulting,
ripping the fibres
of a blood-stained past;

I can feel it
in the contours
of my innards,
filled with a rush
of fresh blood
proclaiming a new birth.

Yes. I know the way home.