Tag: poetry

Morning Meds 1 4 22

In meditation I followed a white Salmon through dark Sea of Consciousness,

my formless essence swirling in the current of its wake.

It’s ability to return to its point of origin mirrored by my own.

Moving through the buoyancy of salt, into the turbulence of fresh,

the waters of time imagined, swept by.

Fears of feeding bears

were replaced by the memories of agreed upon fates.

A knowing that energy released

is destined to be shared again and

is nothing but a continuance of the existence of One.

In clouds of lives expired,

consciousness shared,

paired,

recombined in still pools.

Eggs welcome sperm,

minnows grow to shed their membranes,

life flows back into the dark Sea of Consciousness.

We are eternal,

our forms but transitory expressions of creative thought.

Our belief in a point of origin a dilution.

We always are and have always been.

Our imagined point of origin is only a moment of memory,

a remembrance of shifting into a new imagined form.

Morning Meds; 1 4 20

The feelings of dissatisfaction, being stuck and trapped are the wrapping of Source’s presents of transformation.

It’s the paper around the gift.

These feeling always proceed new insight.

Send them love, thank Source in anticipation of new things coming and by all means don’t go to war with them.

Wayne Dyer, “Change the way you look at things and the things you look at will change.”

Morning Meds: 1 4 19

Remembrance return,

Like warmth to spring,

Salmon to their birth site,

Geese to a lake.

Remembrance return,

Like bees to a hive,

A mother to her den,

Rainwater to a pool.

Still lakes of energy resting,

Silent shining shimmers,

Resting pools,

waiting to be accessed,

Waiting for love to stir their surface.

Remembrance return,

To awaken us to who we are,

To allow us to be as we were.

To remind us of how we’ve always been.

Remembrance return

Us to our original home.

Morning Meds 1 3 22

As a lower brick in a wall disintegrates and crumbles beneath the weight, all the other bricks above it begin their decent into entropy, each cracking and crumbling creating a greater area of decay. In time the wall falls and needs to be rebuilt. When someone undertakes the arduous task to transitioning spiritual beliefs it is common to have an uncomfortable period of time when the old wall has collapsed beyond repair, but a new structure is still being pieced together.

Morning Meds; 1 3 20

Although change can be unwelcomed when all seems well, change is an unchangeable law.

Still water becomes stagnant and can breed disease.

We as well need to stir our consciousness with a fresh contact with Source often.

Our energy is revitalized when we acknowledge our oneness.

Morning Meds; 1 3 19

To transmute any emotional experience from unbearable, to a coveted possession is through the energy of love.

Our most hated experiences are often the key ingredient that brought us to the bliss we are now experiencing.

Only love can produce these changes.

Only love can change our bad stuff into gold.

Morning Meds 1 2 22

The most fertile soil for contrasting opinions is in the gardens of religions and politics,

it’s also where the greatest fruits of unconditional love, tolerance and acceptance can be cultivated.

It can take a lot hoeing.

Morning Meds; 1 2 19

Unconditional love.

No ifs,

buts,

maybes or

small print clauses.

No unforgivable,

unpardonable,

no eternal judgements.

If Source loves us this much,

why are we so hard on ourselves?

It can be difficult to judge what is truly beneficial to us.

Most addicts wouldn’t see the unmanageability of addiction as a benefit,

yet it is what often drives them to treatment.

The depth of depression causes many to search for spirituality.

A dead-end job can force someone to finally follow their dream.

The universe conspires to help us long before we are aware of its unconditional love for us.

It responds to our hearts call for help and open a way for us.

Morning Med; 1 2 21

When we climb into our car, we seldom give it a thought that along the way, we constantly adapt.

Somebody could be driving.

to fast,

to slow,

to close or

on the wrong side of the road.

The car could stall,

have a flat,

overheat or

just not go.

We could see a wreck,

be the wreck,

we don’t know for sure.

We just climb into the car and go.

We don’t concentrate on dangers.

We don’t expect the road to be blocked.

We don’t focus on possible tragedies.

We turn the key and start.

We are confident that we can

brake,

swerve or

accelerate.

We assume we will arrive intact.

Our imagined spiritual journey could be similar, if we looked at it like that.

We could choose to expect the best

and entertain less fears of getting

injured,

tricked,

detoured or

lost.

We could have faith in our ability to

listen,

follow,

allow,

accept

discern and

adapt.

We could choose to expect

open roads,

smooth highways,

pleasant rest stops and

a working GPS.

It would make for a much more pleasant trip, instead of letting our fears create a mess.

Oh, one more thing,

I think it’s good to know,

that it’s quite possible that the road that we are driving on is created by our beliefs.

The better we believe our future to be, the better our future we be.

Create an enjoyable trip.