Showered in blessing
from skies above,
nourished by the Earth
below,
there is gentle encouragement 
to inhabit the whole energy body,
a genuine wish to extend
these blessings and nourishment
to you, your body
superimposed on mine.

What would an image-
billions of bodies
umbilically
connected to Earth,
roots in unfathomable 
beyonds-
look like?

​For now, it is enough
this image of you and me,
superimposed.

*Inspired by Eye of the Heart retreat.

There are so many templates for living-
for the ideal doctor, mother, wife,
daughter, for the model citizen.
This template can even make a mess
of Buddhist spiritual practice,
constrict the breath of poetry, 
any artful, intuitive endeavor,
creating a sterile individual 
whose heart never bleeds
and eyes never tear.

Let me then be messy,
be vulnerable, be human 
a near and far enemy 
of the Brahmaviharas,
and still a legal resident
because of this honest 
template for living 
that still judges
and is learning 
to embrace it all.

*****

An image of two hands
move up and down the spine
massaging, caressing
holding the energy body
in sincere prayer.
This body, this temple,
church, mosque, synagogue-
they are all Brahmaviharas
waiting to be recognized,
understood and loved.

​*Inspired by Eye of the Heart retreat.

There are some people I like,
and some I dislike,
some people I understand,
and others, I misunderstand.
Maybe they have mixed 
feelings about me, too.
Let me sense your divinity,
your dimensionality,
the design of your heart,
and discover that we 
​are not that different.

I am always listening to you,
unzipping skin to intimately 
know your inner world,
decorating your erogenous
​zones with marital marigolds,
drinking the sweet nectar
that drips from them 
when you are aroused.
Sometimes you doubt
my sacred participation, 
dreaming of other lovers
who might see you,
hear you, and understand.
Grant me autonomy
and I will show you
just how much I am 
devoted to the Devi.

​​I am divine
Full of love 
For you
And for myself 
I am humble
Not better than 
Or less than you
Let us grant
Each other 
Autonomy
To be 
The full spectrum
Of ourselves
Mirroring
And magnifying 
Each other
Into unfathomable
Beyonds

What if the unintelligible 
language of the wind
is a poem 
spoken just for you? 
Would you whisper it
to the next being you meet
with the same devotion?
The birds trill 
with merriment and mystery
of a morning that welcomes
you into the womb of the forest.
Here, you are a walking tree
rooted in an underground network 
of connection and belonging.
Trust your heart’s superpowers,
inhabiting the temple of your body
with joy and compassion.
Emerging from the forest,
delivered by newborn hope,
you belong to all beings.
Just like you, they all want
to be happy, safe, and free.

​
I’m fascinated by the intersection of emptiness and metta.

This month I received a birthday gift that I did not want - a flare up of chronic SI joint and gluteal muscle pain. Still there was significant appreciation for emptiness teachings.

I wasn’t a victim of a single cause or condition. Nor was I an expert on perfect management in extinguishing the burning sensations of pain. Perceptions of pain were determined by my relationship to it. When it took center stage, the attention shrunk, and there wasn’t much space for anything else.

Seeing and sensing through the eyes of the Brahmaviharas, the areas of pain transformed into an island of discomfort in a sea of healing modalities and support. The attention stretched to include ice, Advil, supportive family members, joy for my partner getting back in shape, a compassionate physical therapist, concerned patients expressing empathy, an image in supine meditation posture of the heart space pumping a champagne like bubbly substance to the rest of the body that softened, soothed, and allowed experience to be as it was, even held in celebration.

What if time is empty - past, present future - all empty of a single cause or condition that made me? What if this pain is not mine, and belongs to a divine intelligence?

The universal song is composed of both high and low notes. When dukkha arises, may I remember that others experience this, too. When sukkha arises, may others experience this, too.

“When self, time, separation, and even suffering are seen as empty, a devotion to the endless commitment of love is felt without burden.” (Seeing that Frees, Pg 327)

Don’t lose yourself.
Don’t assume you know 
what I need either.
Create what you need 
out of this image for healing,
and discover that I am more
than your limiting ideas 
of what others need.

All being suffer, have this volcanic
eruption of dukkha from within-
undigested material that 
attacks only in darkness 
when one is most vulnerable.
What is the remedy, the tincture 
of trust that will cure?
Grant me autonomy
and I will show you…

*****

There is humility in this image, the image that I thought was me and is now more than mine. “The Medicine” for my suffering changes moment to moment, day to day. “The Medicine” for the suffering of others also changes moment to moment, day to day.

What a gift to be able to stay close to myself, to fill out and resonate with the energetic and emotional body, to cultivate space and ease in this vihara, to impact space and ease in others.

*****

Benevolent breath
Fill me with purpose
Receive my inadequacy
As a distant memory
You are the baseline beat
To every song I sing
My entry into this world
My exit off this stage
​
Stay with me
Remain with me
Watch and pray
That I fill this body
Completely 
To honor you
To know myself
To sense the song in others
And begin the improvised duet 

Heart Nebula by G. Parker

The image begins as a dream, one where the main character feels embarrassed at her vulnerabilities being exposed. She is also claustrophobic, overwhelmed by the number of people occupying her personal space. Who are they, and how can she escape?

Is the dream mine, or does it belong to someone else? My mother-in-law is stuck in a nursing facility in India, wanting nothing more than to return to her home and live out her last days with space and ease.

Space and ease. Something about these words carry a significant resonance, like bells at the end of a religious ceremony when the priest is chanting an ancient Sanskrit prayer. The words are not only invoked in present time, but from the accumulated karma of past lives, the possibility of seeing and sensing with more sacredness in the future.

Carrying the dream and it’s multiple interpretations like a warm shawl to morning meditating, I allow space and ease to fill the body with meaningful intention. The mind is eager to apply teachings of Soulmaking and emptiness to the experience, to think its way to a profound insight as a candle of sandalwood and jasmine is lit to invoke a meditative trance.

But the bodies memories are ancient, slowing the mind down to feel the elements that have shaped it – rivers carving canyons, heat and wind molding earth, the stardust of all life being exchanged through cycles of respiration, porous skin, a beating heart influenced by the rhythms around it. Humbled, the mind yields to its wise ancestor, the body, and waits.

Space and ease. The energetic body begins to relax. The emotional body becomes a sanctuary – a temple, a church, a synagogue, a mosque, open natural space to receive the vulnerabilities of others and mirror back their beauty, strength, and resilience.

The heart becomes a doorway to boundless compassion, not only for a body sitting here, but for a mother-in-law in India, a partner there trying to honor his mother’s last wishes, patients recently encountered who felt complex because of ‘extra’ needs, a politician who appears narcissistic and aggressive, and so many other countless beings I have overlooked from contraction and dis-ease.

May this artful insight, empty of a single person, place, practice, or state of citta, filled with love from multiple beings, places, practices, and states of citta, be for the benefit of all.

What is this color of healing,
this drop of kindness introduced
at the crown of the head,
diffusing through the whole body
with shimmering beauty
in the midst of breakdown?
I know I’m going to die,
that we all will perish
with dread or delight
depending on inner
and outer conditions.
 
Why not write a poem,
listen to music that lifts me
up from despair on wings
of hopeful possibilities?
I refuse to ignore this tincture
of love flowing through me--
a river of meaning mixing
with other tributaries on the way
to Right Understanding.
May i be a refuge for many.
May we be a refuge for all.