Recipe No. 9 – How To Be Compassionate.

Step One: Drop the projections. You may or may not need to have a truly direct experience with ego mind in order to grasp essence mind.

Step Two: Identify with the emptiness. See the everything + nothing that’s been right in front of your eyes all along.

Step Three: In this naturally neutral state, all that your ego mind believed to be real is replaced with compassion.

Step Four: With every tender trigger point in your psyche, life will gift you with experiences to learn where you’re not in compassion. Repeat steps over and over and over again until all karma is dissolved into everything + nothing, emptiness.

CONGRATULATIONS! 👏 YOU CAN ADD COMPASSION TO YOUR WORLD. 

*Whenever you blame others, you are actually admitting your dependence on them…you need the other to justify your egoic position: ‘I’m angry because he insulted me’ [is actually to say] ‘I need him so that I can have my anger.’ [In essence mind], the issue is not what the other did to you; the real issue is how you choose to respond to the situation. If you choose ego mind, you cannot avoid blaming or accusing.” -Excerpt from The Matter of Mind: An Explorer’s Guide to the Labyrinth of the Mind, Master Djwhal Khul through Kathlyn Kingdon

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Recipe No. 5 – How To Fall In Love.

Step One: Project. Make sure you do NOT see the person you’re attracted to clearly.

Step Two: Find a lovely gated community together on Cloud No. 9.

Step Three: Begin to see your mate for who he/she really is. Learn how to forgive. Over and over and over again. And then. Some more.

 

CONGRATULATIONS! 👏 EVEN IF YOU’VE FALLEN FOR ONE GIANT CON, YOU’VE STILL FALLEN. IN. LOVE. ❤️ 💕 

Phases of the Moon: Day Twenty-Seven.


Swayed by just an inch of song
My feet become unglued
And I am taken away
Like a kite made of branches
In an unrelenting wind
Strong enough to carry me
Moving me far too easily.

Like a pair of discarded stockings
No body in there
My pink polka dots dance
With that bohemian adventure
Heartbreak waiting on the wings
Of my desire for the plain
It’s simple, I am moved far too easily.

I glide across compass points
Hanging onto an objective view
Where notes are felt falling for the layers
And tears drop into the wild and untamed ion
Charging me with an electric fear
For the pending loss of your unspoken words
Tell me, even silence moves me all too easily.

A failed retreat from the depth
In receipt of your last death
The dust swirling around my waist
Longing for that one glorious taste
Of your safe landing space
Won’t you help me to be free
Won’t you love me… move me too easily.

Image (“Red Kite Moon”) courtesy of Dr. Joseph Valks at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Old poem called Moved Too Easily, for this Moon Series. Two more poems, two more days…and then! Onto the next project. Hope you enjoy the next series 🦋

July 19th, 2017.

Phases of the Moon: Day Twenty-Six.

Teach Me To Be Simple
“Grace is the beauty of form under the influence of freedom.” -Friedrich Schiller

I’m not trying to be a martyr.
I’m trying to be myself.
I feel the weight of this world…
It’s duality and projection and
Reflections of chaos and confusion
…And I’m just trying to be me.

But I feel the burden of the bees
I feel the burden of the workers
Trying to maintain comfort
Catering and offering catharsis to the queen.
I feel the burden of our connections
Our karmas, our time in timelessness-
I feel things most cannot see.

A part of me wishes it all away
I wish not to be.
But that is my ego
Trying to hold on to the me
It’s the ego experiencing
That none of this is actually free.

Spirit knows none of “this” Real.
What’s Real is YOU and ME.
The bees teach us to just BE…
To breathe and to live simply.
Still…the complexity has be
Come disjointed and over
Whelming, unfortunately.

The depths of our souls
They tell us who we are
And yet many rely on sense.
Somehow my senses tell me
That everything is
Simply a dream.

Image courtesy of Suriya Kankliang/FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Yet another old poem, called Teach Me To Be Simple, for this Moon Series. Almost at the end here. True beginnings of “new” are approaching. So. Much. Work. Happy endings to you. May they bring you new freedom + joy!

July 18th, 2017.

Phases of the Moon: Day Twenty-Five.

NYC - Manhattan

Why do we try to heal ourselves
Before we see the healer?

Afraid of our own weaknesses
Dare not let pride wane.

Fearful the makeshift masks will bleed
Dry pure, wash off, be plain.

Why do we try to prepare for our healing
Before we see the healer?

Contorted control of what needs to be wild
Comforted vaguely by the feigned.

Wanting to please, to be seen for our good
While cauterizing the needle with the vein.

Why do we fear the change from healing
Before we see the healer?

Scars from experience remind us of our own memories
All we can do is focus on being sane.

The shovel is waiting in its own image
Where all we can sense is the way out of pain.

Why don’t we just dabble with healing
Because the healer is nothing to fear?

The regal lion says it will fuck you up
As a proud Leo, I know my own mane.

The regal lion too sees with a keen eye
He clearly has no desire to reign.

Why don’t we use our own courage as medicine
Because the healer can only do so much?

Commitment phobic to anything but adventure
Climbing pyroclastic peaks in the rain.

Trusting fools and falling blind to faults
Fantasy found its home in vain.

Why don’t we see that we are the healer
Because the healer is a guide on the path?

Something to heal just means there is more road ahead
Streets in the center are always called “Main.”

How beautiful it is that we must go downtown
For that is where we discover our gold to gain.

Old poem called, The Healer. I CANNOT WAIT FOR THIS NEW MOON, FULL MOON, NEW MOON SITUATION IN LEO AND/OR AQUARIUS! Working on the next Inklings series, which will be more up your alley. And mine. Been a struggle to do this series I had such ideas for. Oh well, it is good to try new ideas regardless, right?

Phases of the Moon: Day Twenty-Three + Day Twenty-Four.

I didn’t tell you I untangled myself
From the tango with the red leash.
I didn’t tell you I was running
From the zip line and its breeze.
I didn’t tell you I met Adam
From the alley, on the eve
Of a midsummer midnight in mountain land…
I didn’t tell you I never lost sleep.

I didn’t tell you because I did what was right
In my heart, not my mind,
It showed me
I didn’t tell you it displayed
A go-big-or-go-home sign for you
I didn’t tell you
Because you’re more scared and scarred than me.

I didn’t tell you how unbelievable you are
I didn’t tell you, never said
That I was mostly detached
Knowing where you were at
And I didn’t tell you
How much it killed me.

I didn’t tell you I was your mother
I didn’t tell you that I died
I didn’t tell you about this painful loss-
Reborn from the Middle Ages, my son
I didn’t tell you just how you were my pride.

I lied-
I lied by omission.
You did the same for me
I didn’t tell you this thing…

I didn’t tell you I loved you
From the moment we first met
I didn’t tell you because I’m not crazy.

I can see, and sense, and feel you…
That doesn’t go away with time…

I didn’t tell you – you never asked me.

Image by Marlena McGuigan, “Cutting Cords”
Copyright © 2016 Maieutic•Arts. All rights reserved.

This weekend was something. I figured I would post another old poem, called All Unspoken, with a new picture + a new meaning of nails in my tires. Two of them, both old tires, both the back tires. Still good. Still have a light at my core. And, so do my tires – despite the damage attempted. We are approaching a New Moon 🌙  yay!

July 15th + July 16th, 2017.

Phases of the Moon: Day Twenty.

I am your leftovers.
I am what you consumed
I am what you threw out
I am your ideal convenience
Your added sugar
Your cheap labor
Your nutty and granola
Wild Child.

I am your leftovers.
I am your quick and easy snatch
I am your powdered doughnut
I am your fresh fruit smoothie
Your parts
Your whole
Your mountain and pile of
Scape Goat Crisps.

I am your leftovers.
I am your creation of trash
I am out of sight
I am out of mind
Your shadow in slavery
Your illusion of progress
You packaged my perfection
And I am called a deal.

I am your leftovers.
Keep feeding me
And I will keep feeding you.

The moon is still waning, and I am probably still whining. It’s late, and I had some wine, at least. I am re-posting poems (this one was called Package Deal) that I feel to post for the moment in this series (from my “personal” blog). Felt consumed by Mother Earth’s pain from our consumerism today – more than usual. Hopefully something upbeat tomorrow…!

July 12th, 2017.