TALKING TO SHIVABALAYOGI ABOUT THE MOTHER’S SHAKTI

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for Carol and for Stefan Pyne

“…if you feel like a room without a roof…if you feel that happiness is the Truth…”
P Williams

Happiness coming over me!
Silver schools of Gulf trout moving in waves under the skin!
Every mullet in that Gulf has a name.
Both their eyes have names.
The scales that cover their eyes each has a name
written in a kind of fire known only to the Most High.

But you tell me joy is evidence of a wound.
The Mother is always lifting up her children
to wipe the blood from our eyes.
You say we are moving down this road alone, alone
but every body is one candle lit inside another.
We make the necessary efforts to shine and one day we all
catch fire together.

Sitting at my ease now, becoming more and more
like the air around me
I swim into another body made of inhaled breath.
The right hand of the first body is stroking the long white beard of the other.

I can taste my name being called.
Because I am saying this, I know it’s nearly time for me
to die.

But for now I am a rooster strutting on the roof ridge of a white church
my feathers all red and gold!
Elaborate coxcomb thrown back fluttering in a furnace of wind
I go cockadoodledoing while the preacher tries to preach.

Hey you crying on your knees!
Hey you, bent over with your back broken under weight of fear and guilt
come outside and whirl with me!
Everything you believe about yourself is vomit.
Your sermons are mouthfuls of rancid meat!
Why not come out whirling with your arms full of fire?

Take this gallon can of gasoline and pour it over both our heads!
Your fingers are match sticks already struck with fire.

bee in flight on the road to the White Salmon River

bee in flight, taken on the road to the White Salmon River

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APRIL 2015

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April 1

The sweet pain
when we fall in love
becoming more like the quiet
we wake to alone in the middle of the night.
The way the earth is alone, even with a billion
suns around it.
That sweet pain and this heart are all I have
to offer you.

April 2

Ten thousand doors open into heaven
or to a prison cell.
Generosity is withheld from those we cannot bear to look in the eye
when we forget there is no Other.

April 3

We are locked inside a room
and all we need to do is lean against the wall.
Effortlessness, whether in suffering or joy
creates space between atoms.
Knowing this, we pass through.

April 4

Fourth of April
I wake to rain and backache. Pain in the left elbow
become chronic.
In the crown of my head
wood doves mated for life are cooing over their first eggs.

Your face is where I come to live, die and be
born again.
In your face I see the world from a thousand open windows.
Doves are flying out of them!
How the old are always making love
with their eyes.

April 5

You may be tired now but you won’t be tired then.
You may believe you are joyless but you are filled
and over flowing.
You are standing on tip toes trying not to drown in the waves
of this ocean of joy.

I give you my word on it.

April 6

Drops of blood streaming down my arm
follow the same course the River Jordan does
exactly.

The power to receive energy from light
to release it
without effort or intention
is there.
The power to deceive, to corrupt and be corrupted
to believe that nothing we do has any consequences
is also there in the human heart.

Where does it all come from?
God finds it too elementary to explain.
We go on like this until our hearts understand
how to give back what we hope for
exactly.

April 7

My preference is that God look exactly like the one I love
and answer to her name.
Or like the stranger I pass without acknowledging.
The orphaned squirrel who came to the toe of my boot
calling for his mother.
Every leaf of every tree I have seen or not seen.
The sparkling emptiness between stars.
Your right hand taking hold of mine.
My own face in a spoonful of water or your face right now.

April 8

I would like to have something of my Grandfather’s
something small enough to hold in the hand.
He always told me
“To be intoxicated with God is alright
but it is still an intensity of ego
just as joy and rage are both intensities of Awe.
Here, where we are now
is where the love is.”

April 9

Life is the stone we break our hearts upon.
You are luckier than most.
You have wasted your opportunities in the world
thrown your many talents into dust.
It is now and has always been broken hearted love
that is the source, the goal and the perfection
of every life lived well.

April 10

There is a hollow in which I live
a creek running through it that will flood
in April.
We can allow a heart to take form inside of emptiness.
It will open and accept every face as its own.
First pretend to be a person
then feel a Presence separate from your self.
Begin to love this Presence as if it is another.
All to make an opening, so what is Real
can enter as a breath
that will blow away every structure of belief.
Allows the Real to be perceived and held
to what extent a human being can.
As Robin Williamson sings, “Whatever you think
it’s more than that.”

April 11

There is an Existence alive and conscious of itself
moving within the single wide trailer of the body.
It comes as a great wind
taking down walls, breaking windows
blowing doors off of their hinges.
For those who have ears, it speaks. For those who have eyes, it appears.
For those with heart, it opens inside them
a blossom whose nectar is blood.

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