Light from Darkness

When the sky is infused

with deep heaviness

it is like my life

when struggling

with despondency.



It's hard to see

the beauty in it

until that one

sliver of light

peeps through.

'Tis what my mother called

the "silver lining".



A full sunshine day

would not lift me

as much as noticing

that one little

ray of joy

in the midst

of my darkness.

A Time to Live, a Time to Die

When it comes time to die,

be not like those whose hearts

are filled with the fear of death,

so when their time comes

they weep and pray

for a little more time

to live their lives

over again in a different way.

Sing your death song,

and die like a hero going home.

~ Chief Aupumut, Mohican. 1725

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Note: Photo Art, by Elizabeth Munroz

Shadows at Dusk

What is life?

It is the flash of a firefly in the night.

It is the breath of a buffalo in the wintertime.

It is the little shadow which runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset.

~ Crowfoot, Blackfoot warrior and orator

Note: Photo by Elizabeth Munroz, taken at Capitola, California

PEACE and POSSIBILITIES

.

May today there be peace within. 

 
May you trust that you are exactly where you are meant to be.

May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith in yourself and others. 

 
May you use the gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you. 

 
May you be content with yourself just the way you are.

Let this knowledge settle into your bones.

Allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love. 

 
It is there for each and every one of us.

 

 

Note: Photo is of Santa Cruz, California Wharf 

Something My Sister Wrote to a Distraught Friend

I see you, with your feet planted firmly on Mother Earth, absorbing blessed strength. 

Your eyes fixed on the horizon, realizing your dreams. 

And your heart connected with Spirit, knowing your truth. 

And all is well. 

~~~ Suzan Deane-Simpson

E Pluribus Unim

a tree has many branches

a river has many bends

a sleeper tosses and turns

a wheel has many spokes

most refuse to believe

we all have more than one path

Soul Watcher

In that moment of disconnecting from the body, the clarity returned. We could be with each other, equally sharing the Knowing. Memorizing it to carry forward.

We designed the fulfillment of the our goal through many lifetimes to gain enlightenment, not just for ourselves but also others whether they remembered or not. And soon it would be time for us to join again, permanently, if we could just get you to come through this next time in connection with your remembering.

Then all to soon it was time for you to sleep.

So quickly the knowing gets murky. But, of course that is the way it is. We take our chances when the will is stronger than the seeker within. The will blocks direct communication. It has to make the choice to open to the seeker. I could only let you sleep and return to my Light studies until you were ready.

I remember when first we met this time around. You in the mist, curled like a little seedling, dreaming of this world, then letting it lift you until it fell away. Yes, even then a part of you was ready to leave. You began floating along in the warmth of the darkness.

I wanted to tell you then, how things would be, but I knew you would have to find out for yourself.

It was my job to protect you and guide you. And you were in no state to be approached with the Knowledge. I wished I could tell you. But you had to re-discover it for yourself.

Most every one has an idea that includes the sense of the protector, the messenger, the guardian angel. So many times you saw masculinity as divine. It was natural that was what you expect me to fulfill.

I was just your soul watcher as you had been mine. I took the form you needed... we needed... to join as one in the end.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Note: Digital art by Elizabeth Munroz

Human

I am human.

I bleed.

I ache, my chest heaves

I cry real tears,

sometimes wipe them away,

wondering.

Where did that come from?


I am human.

At my weakest,

a ball of bread dough

waiting to arise

through the science

of warmth and yeast.

At my best, a wondrous child

of the Creator.

I am human

swept along the riverbed

with the rest of humanity

carried to the open sea,

not to be lost,

but to find myself

as one among the many.


I am human

knowing nothing

except of what I convince myself.

My illusions in flux,

one day transforms

into another until

I look back

and recognize only

someone has been there.

Could it have been human?

AUNTIE ANGST

She stood in the grove 
emptying her heart
into the darkness,
crying out to the trees.

Oh, hear me! Help me!
I am your little child,
a crone before my time.
My youth has been stolen from me
betrayed by the revolutions of the earth
My heart beats only acid through my veins.
like cities choked with carbon dioxide.
I am the desolated forests of the summer fires.
Nothing left but ashes.

Yet, the crone limps away
beneath the moon, tottering...
the pain of over-ripe decline
prematurely stabs
like some ancient soldier
hacking at the enemy
with a heavy sword.
She sits, quietly breathing,
ignoring the pain with resolve.

I smile... talk... laugh with others
and no one knows what is gnawing
like some unseen dragon
crunching my bones.
The physical pain is bearable,
even the searing fire in my veins.
But the pain in my outraged spirit
is wailing and ranting across the galaxies
as it hurls itself further out into the cosmos
searching for peace 
and a shred of hope.

~~~~~

Digital art and poem by Elizabeth Munroz

Zen Empty

When life feels bereft

I ask myself,

is this the zen

of nothingness?

Is this the empty nothing

that all seek?

empty so lonely

empty so dark

empty so cold

This is not the peaceful void.

This is sadness enveloped in pain.

Where is the lightness of being?

Where is the void without suffering?

Written Sat Nov 20, 2004

~~~~~~~~~~~~
Note: 
Not feeling this way anymore. The art is my own creation.

If You Could See Me Now

Perhaps there is nothing supernatural about death.
Perhaps there is.

Some believe that when it is over, it is over. The body dies, there is nobody home.

Some believe that the soul or spirit of a person leaves the body and moves on to another place. Heaven, or the next life, or some ghostly realm or into the ether as molecules, or ???

Obviously, we don't have all the answers. For me, it comes down to personal choice of what I want to believe, regardless of what someone else tells me that I should believe based on their interpretations.

Found a website some time ago where a woman wrote a letter or poem to her sister. It is a Christian oriented site and it is beautifully done. The song accompanying it is, "If You Could See Me Now" by Kim Noblett, and the lyrics are the first part of the web page. The second part has a letter written to the caregiver of the woman who died (I think).

I like the part that says:

"Speak often to me, for I am just a whisper away and I will hear and answer you."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dedicated to three beloved people who passed away last month, and their bereaved families.

Shenandoah

There are certain voices that, when you hear them, evoke a response deep in your psyche. They cannot be ignored. I had carelessly uploaded a mix of new music to my IPOD, and while taking my walk yesterday, Harry Belafonte  began singing Shenandoah. (Who's Harry Belafonte you may ask?)

Shenandoah plucks my heartstrings, a piece of music about a river valley,  brings up long lost thoughts and emotions for me. It wasn't that I remembered a bad time. No, it brought up a poignant memory. Childhood walked beside me singing her heart out to Shenandoah and Harry Belafonte. Nostalgia breathed it's way up my nose and tickled like dust. What a strange sensation! But, that is what brought the tears and I almost lost it right there on the sidewalk in my own neighborhood.

I stood there a moment to collect myself. My childhood instinct said to run! But, there is no way to run back home. My childhood home no longer exists.

Should I turn it off? Change it to another selection? Or suffer? With the flood of joy enveloping me while my legs melted into jelly, I decided to suffer. After all, there is healing in music. Belafonte's Mr. Bojangles, and Matilda soon gave me a more grounded and upbeat experience. I soon made it home uplifted in spirit.

I have a theory. Sometimes life gives you what you think is more than you can handle. But, try running away from it, and it just follows you. Hide from it and it will find you. What we are supposed to face, will face us off, unless we will ourselves to turn to it, embrace it and heal ourselves in the process.


Oh, Shenandoah, I long to hear you,
Away, you rolling river
Oh, Shenandoah, I long to hear you
Away, I'm bound away, cross the wide Missouri.

Oh, Shenandoah, I love your daughter,
Away, you rolling river
Oh, Shenandoah, I love your daughter
Away, I'm bound away, cross the wide Missouri.

Oh, Shenandoah, I'm bound to leave you,
Away, you rolling river
Oh, Shenandoah, I'm bound to leave you
Away, I'm bound away, cross the wide Missouri.

Oh, Shenandoah, I long to see you,
Away, you rolling river
Oh, Shenandoah, I long to see you
Away, I'm bound away, cross the wide Missouri.