​The solidity of earth supporting practice
Breath filling energy/emotional body space
The flow of Metta to all phenomena
Eros lit for meaningful image to arise

​Wisdom, art, and balance are essential
For an erotic Middle Way
To know you and not lose myself
The duet becomes divine

​Climbing up the steep hill at Foothills Park,
I reflect on this faint sensation
pushing from the back, pulling forward
without regard for the body’s buy in,
the heart’s sensitivities, the mind
taking over the whole endeavor
as if speed and production are key.
How often do I push patients, pull
at the loose ends of family and friends
to get somewhere, get something done,
the checklist seemingly complete
so I can finally stop and breathe?

I’m so tired of this conditioning,
this need to move at the pace
of a ticking time bomb ready to explode.
What would it mean to find my own rhythm,
heed the call of heart time not measured
in seconds, minutes, hours, even days
but in compassion, curiosity, creativity-
slowing down to create/discover
what it means to move at own pace?

The following poetic reflections were written before and and during this retreat. May they be for the benefit of all. 

​Shaping Love
 
Deep within the black inky womb of desire
you hide in a coiled heap of tangled tentacles,
waiting to be discovered, understood, 
free to swim in a sea of sensitivities
warm enough to display your meaningful symbols.
 
As I settle in samadhi, 
curious about what you are,
what you are capable of,
energy and emotional bodies
become the dark waters 
to make space
for the graceful ways you move-
 
an iconic vision 
of loving and being loved 
that has potential to bleed 
into the beyonds 
of other murky relationships.
 
12/29/24
​

​Sangha
 
There is a breath of benevolence 
that at sweeps through the temple
despite stormy thoughts, gales of feeling,
unstable sensations that threaten 
the very foundation of trust.
Can you settle in samadhi,
sense a tincture of glittering metta
seeding the space with image?
When the season seems bleak and barren,
impregnate it with Eros,
tend to your tender heart.
May the community garden flourish
to echo and mirror the temple within.
 
1/1/24

Veiling and Unveiling
 
How can I hate you
when you are like a bird’s nest,
empty of a single cause or condition 
built with a fullness of intention
for something meaningful 
to grow within you.
 
How can I misunderstand you
when you are of the same substance 
as other great minds and loving hearts,
of spacious awareness itself
not seeking to judge but discover
your fullness of intention.
 
May I learn to love
the shapeshifter with a name
that limits your dimensionality,
see you through a silk screen 
that outlines your divinity 
but fails to define its shape.
 
1/2/24

​Sea Glass

glistening tears
your aquamarine eyes
shaped by grief

1/10/25

Devotion
 
bodies burning, yearning
to touch, to be consumed
to find the missing half
the consort for completion
 
why not be the fire
burning endlessly 
for the divine 
without knowing
 
who or what 
the divine 
really is

​
Shine a Light…”It’s You!”
 
Shine a light through your stained-glass heart.
Even the brokenness, the shards, the stone
cast through your sensitivities is repairable.
Your story is rich, meaningful,
a cathedral in time, a gathering
of all your particularities in service
of healing the hole in the window
to love the world beyond it.

 1/11/25

Seeing Through Saffron Eyes
 
I am in love with all of your particularities,
the ballad you long to hear your partner 
sing when the world misunderstands,
making love to all of your most intimate 
places till you writhe in ecstasy
longing to please me, in total 
devotion to my most worthy cause-
to mirror particularities
of the divine in others,
and heal the separation.

​
Humility
 
I am not the only one
with a song in my heart,
a poem to describe 
how I metabolize this world,
a prayer for ease
and soulful connections.
 
Let me make space 
for you, dear Sangha,
swirling dervishes on the dance floor 
in praise of what you love-
fellow poets, seekers, healers
embodying your own unique stories.
 
Not better, not worse
not even equal to,
and so much more
than you ever imagined,
kneeling humbly at the altar
of all you are called to serve.
 
Waiting, eternally waiting
for a candle to be lit
by the One who knows
your temperamental heart
and still trusts you
to carry the flame.

 1/12/25
​

Drawn to the Rhythm 
 
outlined in souls
the stones carry their names
the heart too vast
for one beach to carry
 
as each stone blows
away from the collective
by ignorance, by isolation,
by death
 
the small heart aches
as the larger one sighs
at the human predicament 
of arrogance and disconnection 
 
the rhythm of the sea
the beat of each heart
how can one not love
the imperfect design


​Walk, Dance Gently
 
It feels like a pebble in the forefoot,
dense, hot, throbbing, unwelcome.
Even the medical term to define it,
metatarsalgia sounds like a weapon,
an arrogant scientific explanation,
a piece of the puzzle given more significance 
than the rest of the temple’s wonder.
What if I renamed you to something 
softer than the impact of heavy
footsteps that gave you your name?
Metta-toe-savoring. Please forgive me
for the ways I have misnamed,
misinterpreted, misunderstood you.
You are the small, intricate bases
that support the columns 
of this sacred temple, the conduit
to fertile ground that cannot 
be trampled upon.
​

Gestation 
 
first full moon 
swollen 
with our loving desires
when will she give birth?

1/13/25

Invoking Image
 
undress my heart
pull me apart
take me under your skin
into worlds you have been 
 
stay close to me
for all of eternity
and if you must leave
enter me to conceive
 
soulful visions
metta missions
flexible convictions
being forgiven 
 
for my ignorance 
 
1/14/25

Winter’s Breath
 
so many branches
raised in prayer
teach me 
how to humbly 
surrender
breathing in
breathing out
in your love


I’ve Been Given to Know
 
I’ve been given to know
A sleek black panther 
With bright yellow eyes
I’ve been given to know
A sleek black panther 
With bright yellow eyes
 
What strikes me about him
Is the way he claws at the flesh
Tearing muscles and tendons
Breaking bone
 
When I am in his presence
I am reduced to a bloody heart
That is somehow still beating
Tenderly held
And no longer mine
 
I’ve been given to know
A sleek black panther 
With bright yellow eyes

 1/16/25