Bodhisattva
Excerpts
Frost
At first
It looked like
A field of smoke
Rising from the earth
Until I realized
It was a frozen lake
Releasing a layer of
Evening frost
To the rising sun
And I saw our
Hardness
What becomes of us
During those cold
Nights of the soul and
Then
How the morning comes
Burning through the coating
Over our hearts
Sending up smoke and fog
Before the air clears
In the warmth
And the drama subsides
As we are melted
Back into
Clear
Still
Water.
Spirituality
Spirituality is not
Religion.
Spirituality is a
Way of life.
There is no rule book for this life.
That is what makes it so hard
And so unpopular.
Spirituality is a perspective,
An aesthetic.
It is an expression
Of love.
Spirituality is not defined by
Outer manifestations of
Faith or
Holiness
It is not about what you
Eat or don’t eat,
Wear or don’t wear,
Read or don’t read.
Spirituality is something that happens
In the quiet and privacy of
Your mind and
In the ever blossoming
Of your heart.
Spirituality is what you
Say and do and think
When no one else is there to see you
And admire your efforts.
Spirituality is
An intimate affair
Between you and Eternity
Breathing and living and loving
As One.
Humility
In the news today:
A 13-foot long Burmese python
Exploded
Trying to eat a 6-foot long
Alligator
In Everglades National Park.
Rangers were unable to locate
The python’s head…
Proof that there is
No Teacher
Greater than
Life.
Passing Storms
I stand under the roof and watch the
Rain fall
In crystalline columns
Mile long chandeliers
Draping down from a
Puffy charcoal ceiling.
The columns move slowly
Across the valley
Painting prisms on the
Glinting green mountain walls.
And I see our moods and thoughts
Passing across the landscape of
The mind
If we sit quietly
In the cavern of Eternity.
In meditation we mustn’t become
Involved in each raindrop
Wondering where it will stray next,
Fearing its imminent demise in the
Soaked desert soil, or
Clinging to the story of where
The storm began or
Who it touched before…
But be witnesses,
Warm under the gentle canopy
Of a still mind
Watching the storms
Trail their strings of jewels
Until they move on,
The clouds part,
And they fade in the brilliance
Of the emerging sun.