At the intersection of regret and anticipation

sits now—this moment, this life,

the one you have right now—waiting

for you to devour it, to conquer it, to grab

it with both hands, to hold it

to your chest and feel its pulse pounding

against yours, spelling out in capital letters

the invitation to your destiny.

 

And if you choose to accept it, you choose life,

choose big, bold steps into the unknown,

a fierce surrender of your will, a release

of all those doubts you’ve stockpiled

just in case, all those “should’ves”

that snared you with their prickly barbs,

all those times you said yes

when you meant no, or no

when you meant yes, not realizing

that the only yes that matters

is the one you say right now.

This will be the year of living big,

of loving out loud, of taking

magnificent risks and reconnecting

with spirit. I will become intimate with

intuition, will taste the sweetness

of surrender, will create

and connect, opening

to freedom and possibility. I will dissolve

the muddy remnants of fear

and align with a purpose, at last

recognizable. I will live fully, guided

by intention and abundance, not

holding back, not settling,

not hiding. I will stand up straight

and look life square in the eye, ready

to be challenged, to be humbled,

to be blessed. I will walk forward

with grace, moving toward the light,

and shining all the way there.

The connection with whatever pulls you

toward freedom, toward truth,

toward your own essence,

the one you may or may not recognize,

it’s that magic, that spark…

you see, you hear, you know, you feel,

you feel, you feel, you feel!

It is yours for the asking, for the taking,

for the fulfillment of something bigger

than you, something you can not

understand and should not

understand, but should accept

with grace, with gratitude, with arms

flung as wide as they will fling,

prepared to learn whatever it must

teach you, to go wherever it must

take you, to trust that this,

this here, this now, this this

is exactly what you need. And then,

once you’ve acknowledged, accepted,

received, surrendered, take it

and run, run as far and as fast

as you possibly can, run into

your wilderness and play with it,

allowing all that is wild and free within

you to celebrate, create, laugh, cry,

dance, paint, write, sing, transform

into a gift you can return to the world,

one joyous moment at a time,

one sweet, sweet symphony

spiraling from your soul.

Nourished, satiated, full,

fed by our day on the river,

the water slow and lazy,

floating us through secret,

undisturbed places,

like the places you find in me,

the places I want to share

with you, want to open

and explore. This freedom

of being, of feeling full and alive,

so rich, so delicious, feeding

a hunger I didn’t know I had,

and now that I’ve tasted

your warmth, your light, your spirit

beckoning mine  to come closer,

I may never be satisfied

with anything less.

Bricks, with their one-right-next-to-the-other-ness,

their mortar mazes that require no imagination

to complete, their patterned placement

that could be soothing in its predictability, but reeks

of conformity and rigidity, which are not

inherently bad or wrong, but also are not

creative nor thought-provoking, nor likely to incite

any sort of rebellion, riot, revolution, or reform…

and perhaps this is why our schools, our town halls,

our courthouses were built brick by brick by brick

by boring brick, solidifying, commanding, ensuring

steadiness, security, stability…and slavery.

 

Swaying to the rhythm

of me, moving through days,

walking stealthy miles

across the desert, comforted

by solitude, a pendulum

swinging between survival

and freedom, settling

on the quiet delight

of simplicity.

 

Lean and focused,

one nimble step after another,

moving forward into

the unknown, guided by the sun

crossing from one side of the sky

to the other, the moon

gathering and giving away,

the seasons chasing each other

into the order of things.

 

Mind still, instincts sharp,

throbbing with clarity, rooted

in now, with no tomorrow

visible on the horizon, the tracks

of yesterday already filled in,

only this moment

for company.

You know all those certifications

handed out after every trial

and tribulation, every time

you were stretched beyond

what you thought you

could handle, all those skills

and lessons learned, new items

on your spiritual resume,

the one you don’t always want to

submit, would actually prefer

to keep hidden? Well, the universe,

like some omniscient version

of the cloud, already has a copy

in its giant filing cabinet just waiting

for the next open position,

the one you qualified for the last time

you cracked wide open and almost

fell apart—almost, but didn’t.

So when that almighty headhunter calls,

groan, roll your eyes, stomp your feet,

but you pretty much have to say yes,

have to box up your things and move out

of the cozy office you had hardly

begun decorating, and step back out

into the trenches where you—

and only you—can do the job

that needs to be done.

“You are the universe experiencing itself.”

                                                  -Alan Watts

And right now the universe,

the great big universe, spills stars

into the ocean, shakes rivers

into the sky as it sings itself alive

with possibility, skips its bare feet

across the grass, laughs, with hands

open wide, ready, and willing, to hold

all the abundance it can handle.

Stark trees pose and point,

their silhouettes more bold with each

downward tug on the sun, and then

that moment between too light for night

and too dark for day, that moment

when everything stops striving,

if only for an instant, content to simply be

in-between, that moment  before the stars

start sneaking into position, and the light

that emboldened the branches

becomes a whispered glow, silencing

one form of beauty to make space

for the subtle song of stillness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nose nestled into tail,

body curled in comfort,

he smiles, sighs, snores,

dreaming age into youth,

dark into light,

winter into spring.