Tag: poetry

1 13 22

Odd dream not yet pursued.

Short little dream from the Land of Toons. Always a pleasure.

A house the shape and color of a huge acorn, with a thatch and wood shingled roof.

A man as round as rubber ball, clothed in brown and tweed.

A ruddy vest belted with twisted twine, a shoulder strap securing a woven pouch, slung to his hip.

Loose topped boots clumped and worn, laced to the knees, the laces feather tipped.

He sat atop his round topped house, his squat legs straddling the brick chimney rising through the thatch.

With his right hand he drew a rope from around his waist and snapped it like a whip.

It circled the chimney in a sweeping arch the tip landing in his outstretched left.

Raising both hands above his head gripping the rope like reins of team of horses he fell backwards against the roof of the house.

His legs flew up and out and he buried his heels into the base of the chimney.

The house rose from the forest floor in a gust of wind.

Leaves swirled in from every direction pushing the house and the short round man into the air.

It was followed by other acorn cottages each being driven by little plump riders.

They dotted the evening sky.

What do ya do with a dream like that, except say “thanks”?

Morning Meds; 1 12 22

Although many of my beliefs have changed a great deal in the last few years some things remain infused. God/Source is big stuff, everything, all the other stuff, in all its diversity, is meant to be seen as secondary chatter. Nothing is bigger.

I find it interesting how easy the chatter can scream so much louder than the immenseness of God/Source. It seems so many have so much more faith in the possibility of calamity, fear and abandonment than in the possibility of peace, love and intervention.

We are unconditionally loved, gifted with the powerful tool of faith, it performs its function regardless of what it is focused towards.

Our choices effect our lives and the lives of those around us.

Morning Meds; 1 12 20

A morning conversation about a word.

Exemplary…

“Serving as a desirable model; representing the best of its kind.”

Source, “Attempt to live an exemplary life.”

Me, “But, what about when I screw up?”

Source, “Just love yourself and go on, just love yourself and go on. It’s just that easy.”

Have a loving day.

Morning Meds; 1 12 19

We battle in the circle of duality and polarity, choosing choices.

While all the while,

Above the turmoil,

Above our awareness,

Above, where we truly abide,

Above in oneness with Source

There is tranquility.

Morning Meds; 1 11 19

I awoke to a blaring radio playing old country classic songs like,

My Achy Breaky Life,

I Ain’t Nothing but A Hound Dog and

a rendition of Hee-Haw’s, Gloom, Despair and Misery, Oh My.

It wasn’t a real radio, just old thoughts.

Thoughts are like a radio station and like a radio station they convey their message by frequency.

Our receptors pick up the frequency and release hormones.

Hormones create emotions and mood.

I am grateful we can retune our receptors though meditation.

In time uplifting songs are played and the old songs fade.

Stay tuned into Source.

Morning Meds; 1 11 20

Equanimity… …mental calmness, composure, and evenness of temper, especially in a difficult situation.

The more we realize that we are one with Source, the easier it becomes to deal with the ups and downs of duality.

We are unconditional love.

Morning Meds; 1 10 20

The passage from paranoia to peacefulness can be as simple as the realization that we were never lost. We are one with Source, we are always one with Source.

Morning meds; 1 10 19

Abstract definition.

“Existing in thought or as an idea but not having a physical or concrete existence.”

If we are nothing but energy,

our concepts of ourselves as humans, may be just as abstract as our concepts of Source.

Morning Meds; 1 9 19

If we thought the universe was calling us to become a duck,

we could trust in the predictability of the universe to provide,

the feathers, the bill,

the waddle and the quack.

We need only to be willing to trust in the universe’s ability

to change us.

Multiple existences like the splatters of a raindrop

Shimmering upon the surface of imagined time.

Shimmering in the darkness of existence.

Each splatter a full embodiment of the whole, yet

Each droplet focused upon it’s own moment of expression.

Each creating resonance and tone.

Each contributing to the symphony of creative expansion

Each helping to display infinite possibilities

Each an expression of Source.

Each remaining hidden until searched for

We can through meditation and projected intent assimilate ourselves

We can examine the properties of our imagined splatters

We can touch the realities produced by the expressions of these imagined separations.

We can gather our multiple existences.

Gathering skills, beliefs and realizations

Gathering from one expression or another

Drawing ourselves back together, yet

Remaining separated by imagined space and time as we dance our dance of joy.