notes from the dark moon

notes from the Dark Moon

just follow the simple directions
leave the Beauty to me.

you are wearing yourself out
doing a job that has been
done.

bring your Desire forward
and I will create with it.

the crone and the king

as I am grown

into crone
I find a new conversation beginning 

with the shadow king.

he likes days that are up right.
I like days that can be downright weird.

he likes up and shining
and I like sometimes to not move
and just appreciate the warmth of my morning bed,
my dreams,
a book,
a pen,
and an open, unplanned day.

Family

The love I feel for my sons
Stops me in my tracks
There is nothing but the unknown and familiar
Streaming from their eyes.

The wide and vast
The tender and questioning
The sure and true.

They are more real than anything I ever created.

I cannot hang them on a wall and say,
I can’t really price this, either,
because it is my life
It is everything I could never ever speak
I could only know this life in myself
through paint,
through sons.

Life
Like this
is not for the weak at heart.

These sons
Carry all my trust
And love.
And theirs.
And his.

I trusted one man, finally, kind of.

Beyond awesome.

Something only we can know.
This love is our secret.
This love is the life we lived
Alone
With our selves
As we all grew up
Together.

I call it Family.

the button shopper

here's a funny thing

well, it seems funny to me,

the kind of funny that is the sweet spot 

of the cosmic joke

like when you begin something,

and you are so into it, 

like it is the most wonderful thing EVER

and......

like buying those buttons in that 250 year old button shop in Salzburg. 

(you know the one)

buying those buttons, choosing them from all those other beautiful buttons, 

and having support to do it, 

with the dear woman behind the counter........

for a sweater that never made it,

for a sweater that never appeared, 

despite my best knitting efforts.

kind of like so many other things....

what's so funny, you ask?

this blind love for the moment

this love of exchange

the beauty of it

the taste of it,

just for that.

it's a funny thing,

this kind of love.

 it never doubts that the project will not come to fruition.....

that it still lives me 

insistently

like it always did

from the beginning of time....

it's a love I can't do anything to stop.....

i won't go so far as to make it seem like 

Rumi 

left without Shams

but,

what to do with all this love?

well, finishing anything 

is beyond me now......

it is finishing me off.

it is no secret,

the joke's on me.

holy ordinary

delusions of grandeur
were once seeded
 blamelessly
out of illusions
of small, other and not enough.

When the King dies, so must the Queen.
Long live Truth.
She reigns Absolute.
 
holy ordinary
gifts
glimpses
of truth.

Surprised at first,
you might be blown away,
humbled
by the very fact
That you are That.

You might be convinced
never again to lie
(and you probably will…..)

about who you are,
about who “they” are.

seeing from the heart
      the really obvious presence in that tree
      is beyond anything you could make up.

holy resides in this form
And that form
And that one, too.…


The ground of body
Supporting breath
Is holy ordinary.

Feel the support.
Always.
All ways.
Every cell
Is held in this moment
Breathing with you...

The most natural movement
is to bow
in gratitude for the glimpse,
for the felt sense of belonging
In such a kingdom.

taking form

Losing one’s mind 

One finds oneself 

unseparated, undifferentiated,

Awareness itself.

Thinking, 

more than once,

that the forms created by mind 

were Everything and True.

Awareness watches

As mind hits the wall

Screaming for proof of its rule.

Thrown by whom?

The truth

~ princess or prince ~

appears.

Delighting in the stillness,

Pervasive, palpable and playful.

This way of knowing is full of peace.

I have faith in this knowing

this intimate glimpse, 

shared with itself.

Nothing, 

not one bead of dew,

not one note of birdcall, 

Is overlooked

Every form is pervaded by love of form.

This is all a play on words

I write for the fun of it.
I, too, am how love takes form.

As are you.

as a leaf on the Fuschl See