Love Letter

In your presence, my knees go weak and I fall like a drunk, liquid bones pooled at your feet, unbraced against any future.

I can do this, as you have no power over me.

You look through my thoughts and the way I try to fill out my daily uniform (even what I was before I came to be), finding no flaw, no lack, no mistake or failure. In your sight I am a diamond and grain of sand becoming fragile glass--all the same, all the same. I am no paragon, but pure virtue, to you.

There is no place I am not allowed to go and nothing I am not allowed to see. I do not have to ration love for fear of spoiling myself or others; I don't have to hesitate to be angry or sad or full of joy. I am permitted to speak the nonsense of absolute conviction, only to throw it back to the sea when evening comes.

You encourage my curiosity and propensity to be my own student, refusing to abandon me even when I lash out of momentary confusions.

Much as I long to hang a garland around your neck and crown you with gold to prove some form of you (making something like a solid memory), you vanish into a moment, a crowd, a zero-point, simply to reveal yourself to me as all things, any thing, no thing, to bring me face-to-face and face-in-face with you. I remember, then that you are my default condition.

You believe nothing I say, but drink up these streams of words the way a great river drinks tiny tributaries. Eventually, I feel them rain softly down, charged and purified by their course through your seasons. How can I not feel like a privileged queen who only lives to serve?

I need prove nothing; I stand before you knowing nothing, and the less I know, the more you show until I cease to find the beginning or end of anything, until it makes no difference whose work of art I am or if the canvas goes unsigned.

You are an impossible lover, and I am grateful, for it makes all love possible. This is the one and only relationship in which all differences are reconciled before they appear, and celebrated long after they are gone.

I am content to be your latent Venus, sleeping patiently inside the smooth, solid marble of forever that you are, needing no hammer or chisel to bring me to light, no evidence that I exist within your heart. The cool, full span is perfect, the heated emptiness perfect, also. Ignorance of my beauty and the effort to unveil it are two notes of the same silent song.

All the music, poems and stories come and go; all the water and weathering, dream and illusion in magnificent abundance. Is it any wonder that you are my deity, that I fall in mirth, astonishment, grief and love?

I write to you, to me, to us, from our reasonless home in the pointless realm, so that space is available for this joy...and I see, delighted, that you are here, already!

Maria's Arts

I've begun to post art and poetry on a "sister" page, here in Blogger. I have a website where these things are posted routinely, but I may not be able to maintain it, as the cost is becoming prohibitive.

Both links appear on the right. Should you decide to visit either one, I hope you enjoy viewing these things as much as I do creating them!

Love and thanks,
Maria

Falcon, Storm, or Great Song?

Recent conversations with friends, family and self have involved a great deal of pointing out Things Not Liked in 2009, as well as Things Needing Change in 2010. Everything and everyone, it seems, needs an overhaul like never before, with all speed and urgency.

It's practical and good to make plans for improvement in life, to take those actions which help bring about a change in the well-being of yourself and those you care for. But if these resolutions are based on a pile of anger and fear, directed toward things and people "out there" or perceived flaws "in here", stop. Please. If they fly in the face of your deepest values, but you feel desperate somehow, stop. If they are to appease, placate or otherwise pretend some kind of servitude, stop.

None of this stuff works, even if you think it's all for your own good, or because "you gotta do whatcha gotta do".

The way most of us were trained to operate in life may initially set us up for continued disappointment within ourselves, at the least, and raging conflict on all levels at the worst. It begins when we assume that we are one cohesive personality that is supposed to respond in appropriate ways to the rest of the world. We develop an idea that we are, or should be, a good, caring, strong, stable, healthy, (pick a positive adjective) person. We think we know what this paragon should feel and look like, based pretty much on the process of elimination: Well, it's not that or that or this...so the opposite must be true.

We may succeed for a time on our new diet, change in behavior or other passionate plan to be closer to our ideal human. Perhaps we learn things, perhaps not. But the strain of being on-guard all the time against that overweight, addicted, angry, depressed or (insert negative adjective) person, still lurking in the wings somewhere, eventually takes its toll. The slip-up happens, the depression returns, and it appears we are meant to fail. We might freak out, get sick, or just develop the world's stiffest upper lip and get on with it...bearing the cross, suffering in silence.

The truth is, we are many personalities, many characters constantly shifting and changing in relation to what we believe our circumstance to be. We may think of ourselves and others as general "types", but this trick is for convenient mental filing purposes only. Hidden within these types are their direct opposites, anything on the range in-between, and some things we would be shocked to discover. Unless, of course, we observe ourselves closely.

The only truly stable thing within us isn't a personality at all, but the capacity to recognize our cast of characters as they arise and disappear. This very recognition is the key to resolving the conflict problem. Almost as soon as I note the voice of the critic in my head, she cannot take over and live vicariously through my actions. I see her. She has her say and leaves. There is no reason to struggle with her point of view or hate her, or mount some lifelong crusade against her big mouth. It only gets bigger in a fight. Same goes for the joker, the romantic, the dependent child, the rebel, the cookie-monster, the selfish hermit. Did I mention the killer, or the fanatic, lunatic power-monger? First cousins to the compassionate, temperate, giving, enlightened savior. Oh, yes.

We recognize all these characters because they live within us, good, bad or indifferent, whether we want to admit it or not. We don't have to like them or extend their lives through action, unless we really want to. We are the kaleidoscope, the flux of colors and the observing eye. A color we may not prefer, or one that even sickens us, will eventually make an appearance, along with the beautiful shades we are attached to.

Relaxing into this mysterious capacity and recognition of what we are has the effect of reducing the power these temporary identities have in our lives. They are somehow equalized and granted citizenship in our inner territory, which is pretty much what they all want, anyway--this kind of love. I don't know how it is, but in spite of the sheer number of role-players identified, there is always enough space for useful and appropriate solutions to problems, supporting everything we typically view as positive and nurturing. Ten delegates show up with creative, loving and compassionate means, with only one axe-murderer in tow to spice things up. When things get logical and practical at the round table of the mind and heart, she simply skulks away. It happens so often, that I am inclined to believe that our nature wants to turn toward these things like plants dancing with the sun...that, in spite of apparent evidence, we do know an ethical, more effortless way to be.

So in the New Year, I'm asking that all my loves take heart, and follow it to things truly loved and filled with joy and learning for all of us. Walk away from the inner battle and the strategy of "winning" at all cost. Call all your least-attractive personas together and look them in the eyes to find out what they really need. It most likely isn't what you think. Honesty is the gift you will receive from the world, as soon as you are this honest with yourself...

Peace,
Maria

Poem of the Day

I live my life in widening circles

that reach out across the world.

I may not complete this last one

but I give myself to it.

I circle around God, around the primordial tower.

I've been circling for thousands of years

and I still don't know: am I a falcon,

a storm, or a great song?

~ Ranier Maria Rilke ~

Peace On Earth, For Real

I received a beautiful little card yesterday in the mail, in which the image of a dove floats on an imperfect globe, watercolor greens and blues suspended in a violet, star-sprinkled, tie-dye heaven. "Peace" is written in a lovely, curlicue script across the top.

I posted it on the bulletin board next to my desk so that I can look at it every day...or, at least, until I don't have a wall to hang it on (tough year for many).

A most excellent friend reminded me recently that it's easy to write a best-seller--all that's required is to give people something that makes them feel good, in spite of the state of the world or themselves. I thought, "Yeah, hope and distraction in a pretty package." (Tough not to feel outright cynicism, in general.)

I can't offer hope for peace, sanity or any other evidence of connection in the way it is typically held out, as a carrot-on-a-stick reward for patient, long-suffering endurance of living. Neither can I offer you any sexy new technology designed to mainline a fountain of youth, cultural appeal and oblivion into your veins. Hope, in the accepted sense, is about "better things in the future". I'm sorry, but in reality, the future is right now. Postponement and denial of this is...exactly so.

There is only one place to be or to see, whether you sail on calm and enchanted waters, or hungry, stormy seas (especially then!). There is only one location on any map that points to the shining beacon, where packaged hope can be seen for the retail product that it is, complete with planned obsolescence (just nine-ninety-five!). That place, of course and on course, is You. Here. Now.

I am not speaking of the "you" presented to the world, or any role you play. I'm speaking of the eye and heart opened wide, perhaps scared, in pain or seasick, but nevertheless noting the peaks and troughs and how one begets the other. There is no victim or perpetrator of storms, you see--not in the Reality that you actually are! The legendary Safe Harbor is the simple act of dropping all ideas and descriptions about everything, just for a moment, long enough to clear the "education", self-medication, mass-hypnosis from your mind.

I know, easier said than done. We all find ourselves in "coping" mode. We exist in a vast energy network, from the smallest fractal cell to the largest, and everything we do individually both affects and is affected by everything and everyone, whether we are consciously aware or not. With billions of people on this planet and a media-driven, virtual hell in our faces everywhere we turn, it's very easy to succumb to a nightmare. Nothing seems good, easy or right anymore. Nothing seems worthy of faith, too many things hurt, and confusion is the dominant paradigm.

Apparently.

But that world and its belief system, heavy as it may seem, is fleeting and shallow as a shadow.

I am not saying this in denial of poverty, war, and sickness, or to sell an idea. I am saying that the "solutions", the answers we seek on both a personal and global scale, are only found right here, right now, in this moment. Too often, we hide below with our arms covering our heads, waiting for some leader or sign--a savior, a knight, a goddess or a white stag--to tell us that it's alright to come out...food and shelter are over there, love is over here, esteem and direction are down the hall...never mind, it will just be brought to you, so you don't have to get off the couch!

There is some effort involved, alas. The instructions may be in a kind of language unfamiliar to you. If that is the case, then you are hearing a voice not pandering to your ego, for once. You are hearing something calling to your native intelligence, your innate creativity, your responsive beauty. I urge you not to dismiss it or ask some authority figure for a translation. Only you can unwrap this particular gift. In the end, you will wonder how you could have carried it within you all this time in such complete ignorance. You will be astonished at the worthiness of this bit of work, as the world unfolds itself to you in a priceless way that you could literally never imagine.

I ask you to consider your favorite symbol of hope, peace or beauty, and its actual location. Is it really somewhere "out there"? Is it really apart from you, in some other time and place when the world ends, or you lose twenty pounds, find a job, get through the holidays, stop smoking or talking or whatever else you compulsively do? Is it possible to look very clearly at Peace apart from its symbols and face value, to get all the way down to what it means to you, and then just live in it, even part-time? Living in peace and love means simply expressing a natural aspect of yourself. It is already there, before the symbols and the conditions you think must be met. To continue to believe in the "right" conditions for its emergence is to conveniently keep it out of your own range, and to make someone else responsible for its growth or death. In other words, your own growth or death. Now that requires a good deal of energy!

Honestly, the hardest part of this is admitting a fear of "failure" (and fears in general), and standing still in an apparent maelstrom of conflicting feeling. It is difficult to turn the light upon oneself and see, in such crystalline clarity, exactly where and why we withhold our love and vision. And for some reason, it is difficult to admit that we are the source of that light, which thankfully glows like the sweetest candle through even the muddiest glass of self-image.

But the stilling results in a sort of dis-stilling, a purification and unveiling of resources. Oddly enough, those means aren't arrived at with a five-year plan, and the reward isn't at the end of some timeline or packaged in a resolution. We don't have to wait to make peace with our fat, the credit-card company or so-called addictions; neither do we have to wait for various "world powers" to settle their endless differences. There is no condition attached to the availability of unconditional love. There is no shame in expressing it. There is no stigma in falling in love with the fearsome gorgeousness that Earth is always revealing to us--thus falling in love with oneself, without protective coverings and virtual distractions--and even more to the point, falling in love with Love to the extent that we become it.

I think most of us know by now that we don't need one more thing to buy into or to sell ourselves out of; we don't need to be told what is important and valuable. We know exactly what it is that we can't stick a price tag on. It lives even while "coping", and can't be turned into a commodity or a currency. It is writing and reading these words. It is restless with creativity and utterly still in its timelessness. You can hear it, see it and feel it right now because it is asking, right now, your attention.

All peace, all love to you, and the courage to let it live in what you say and do! This is what I wish for you, and what unwraps Itself through all seasons.

Inside-Out Dreams

I have a long history of dreaming about earthquakes, volcanoes and the motion of large bodies of water. This makes perfect sense in light of my "discovery" that I am, indeed, intimately tied to the Earth and her universe.

My son told me this morning that he had a vivid dream of Crater Lake, here in Oregon, which is, as the name implies, a very deep lake in the crater of a sleeping volcano. In the dream, the lake was warming, and he was picking up crystals and geodes which were appearing on the shoreline, while distant people were swinging on a huge rope-swing over the water. "I knew I couldn't swim," he explained, "but I wanted to swing--it looked fun."

He is seventeen years old, and just starting in on all the fun of risking one's life over deep waters.

I told him to make sure he has a flotation device.

There are many ways to look at such dreams and portents. There is no hard-and-fast analysis, no absolutely correct interpretation...the necessity and key lies in the looking and examination itself, in the attention given to the flow of that particular language. Not once have I ever been able to dismiss a dream or vision as "nonsense" or "irrelevant" to life, any more than I can look at a mountain in the distance or listen to the ocean and call it stupid or useless.

Personally, I experience volcanoes and earthquakes as the shifting and turning inside-out of the planetary expression of Self, human psyche and geology perfectly mirroring each other. It can be no other way, as none of this occurs separately from itself. And those crystals lying about on the edge of the volcanic lake are akin to the treasure uncovered when one dares to walk the inner shores.

It's quite obvious that we are collectively entering a cauldron of heated exchanges and transformation, and things are being exposed at an exponential rate, the likes of which we have never seen before in our brief "global communication" history. There are events waiting in the wings which the ultra-sensitive can already feel.

We do love a good drama, and tend to put a fearful spin on just about everything. Violence, poverty and increasing social tension seem to be more "in the face" than ever, and some extra caution or preparedness is justified. But keep in mind that an apocalypse is a revelation, an exposure, an uncovering. It is perhaps the end of a story, but never of the heart of Reality, which beats with an undying intensity and generosity, and has room for birth and beginnings as well as the destruction of outworn paradigms.

Artists, philosophers, dreamers and lovers of all kinds are actually the priests, priestesses and human representatives of the Deep, those that dwell near caves and wells and bottomless lakes, carrying various lights in strong contrast to the scary darkness and obscuring layers of dust, mist or jungle. We know without any doubt that there is a rosy warmth shining through the coldest expression of ice, and a vast peace holding all our turmoil in its cupped hands. We make sure, in the end, that this is not forgotten.

I'll be looking for you, on that distant shore. :)

Simple

Sometimes I get hit with a love wave so big that I literally must sit down.

Such was the case this morning, when I paused in the midst of my insanely busy life to recognize my own heart staring back at me.

Kinda funny--it resembled a computer, a messy desk, three or four "to do " lists, and you.

Stories are ending everywhere, I am too broke to even pay attention, and I get to drown in sweet, sweet love.

We do, all the time, underneath. :)