jesus is just alright, o yeah

my relationship with jesus has been an interesting journey..

like many folk i know..

it began when i was a young methodist novice of christianity..

i was brought to sunday school in my best pinafores 

where i was given a picture of jesus..

a very congenial fellow with long hair, blue eyes..

very white and bright..

i liked him right away

- though he seemed to watch me wherever i went -

one of those pictures where the eyes followed one

around the corner and through the walls..

i remember placing the picture in my closet

just to get a little privacy..

every now and then, i'd step in for a viewing

and an intimate conversation..

we were closet buddies..

i grew away from him when i went off to theater school..

leaving him alone with his thoughts..

and taking mine with me..

i began my own svadyaya.. self-study..

buddhism - to study the way is to study the self

krishnamurti - to lead a timeless life, you must wear a watch

yoga - yoga is the dissolution of all reactive tendencies of the mind

gurdjieff - remember your self always and everywhere

sufism - love is the healing power and the remedy for all pain

i ching, the tarot, the runes

leaving him in the dust..in my closet

soo many years later 

while visiting my mother's family

in south carolina..

i was taken to a concert of the doobie brothers ..

of course, of course -

i knew the song..

it turned out to be more 

of a revival meeting than a rock concert..

the mantra ~

jesus is just alright

and he was, is.. always has been..

i like him..

now

much deeper and sweeter 

are my feelings for him and his teachings..

he speaks the truth

and i know 

from our long standing friendship 

that he asks only the best in us 

to 

shine, shine, shine..

after all, 

the kingdom of heaven is within..

he and the holy mother..

(all the holy mothers)

reside in the pantheon 

of high holies in my heart..

he is an ancestor and a spiritual friend ~

he rises every morning with the sun..

embraced by the buddhas,

dancing with the gopis,

sharing psalms in the highlands,

sowing seeds in the lowlands, 

riding the waves of every sea..

jesus is just alright with me

jesus is just alright

arthur reynolds - 1966

( first recorded by the art reynolds singers - 1966

the byrds - 1969, the doobies - 1972, dc talk - 1992)

 

the great yes

for some people the day comes
when they have to declare the great Yes
or the great No. it's clear at once who has the Yes
ready within them; and saying it,

they go from honor to honor, strong in their conviction.

they who refuse do not repent. asked again,
they would still say No. yet that No--the right No--
drags them down all their life.

                                 - constantine p. cavafy

recently - listening to a dharma talk by jane hirshfield -

she shared this poem..

a poem i knew vaguely..

yet one i could not forget..

the great yes 

the great no

do they abide within us?

the answers to mighty questions

perceived immediately..

with no doubt..

arising in a just this moment..

then - the wibbly ways

with no certain conviction, 

the great and perhaps wise unknown...

our saying No..

may be saying Yes elsewhere -

cloud hidden at the time..

our saying Yes

- a No in another meadow 

of our lives?

is Maybe the middle way?

Maybe.....

might we translate Rumi's poem..?

out beyond ideas of No (wrongdoing) and Yes (rightdoing),

there is a field. i'll meet you there.

when the soul lies down in that grass,

the world is too full to talk about.

ideas, language, even the phrase each other

doesn't make any sense.

peace be with you ~

peace be with you,

friend 

full moon musings - eirēnikos

3 in the morning..

a clamor of some sea bell 

dinging 

ringing

if i listen deep enough

the hark bark of harbor seals

some comfort from the wild wet ones

cutting out paper hearts

colouring them blue and yellow

a ukraine leader declares peace

the way to freedom

emancipating the world 

perhaps the galaxies 

how to move about when one’s own heart

is shackled by the shackle of others

how to make things whole when 

there is a riptide in every holy haven

landscapes soaked in blood

breathing in bloodshed

breathing out boundless peace

there is a lighthouse 

a beacon

a flare 

a watchtower

in the pocket 

of every heart..

bearing witness

no turning away 

steeped, seeped 

saturated 

with the wages of war

the perfect moonlight 

spotlighting the wisdom

of those who know 

the time 

for peace has arrived

is always arriving

not peace between two wars

the peace residing 

in the center of each heart

bursting 

busted

wide open by the bloodbath

drenched dripping 

come away 

come awake

now

 

there will come soft rains

 

holy moly!

it is 4:44 in the morning of august 6 ~ 2021

there is a soft and tender rain pattering across 

the pavement, the yellowed dry grasses, 

the folded yard umbrella - table and chairs..

out in my barefeet to feel the moist..

barely enough wet to soak into my thirsty feet prints

hardly a trickle to dampen my morning bed head..

yet rejoice! hallelujah! praises in all things drizzly!

a poem seeps into my head..

sara teasdale

there will come soft rains..

googling to post it this drippy morn..

i find a short story by beloved ray bradbury

there will come soft rains

about 5 pages 

it is august 4, 2026.....

o my o!

a worthy shocking read..

bradbury at his best..

~ further on my search.. sara's poem ~

published just after the start of ww1 and 

in the midst of the 1918 flu pandemic.. 

There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;

And frogs in the pools singing at night,
And wild plum trees in tremulous white,

Robins will wear their feathery fire
Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;

And not one will know of the war, not one
Will care at last when it is done.

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree
If mankind perished utterly;

And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn,
Would scarcely know that we were gone.

note to email subscribers..

 

goodbye

you lean with one arm out
against the porch post,
your big hand cupping its curve, 

shy of that handshake
we both know is coming.

and when we've said enough, 

when the last small promises

begin to repeat, your eyes

come to mine, and then

you offer your hand, 

dusted with chalk from the post,

and sticky with parting.

                      ~ ted kooser

well,

i received a note from feed burner..

whoever they might be..

saying they would no longer feed

or automatically send out 

peaceishealthy posts..july 1..

i dunno...?

so dear subscribers ~

many heartfelt thanks for subscribing

and ..

please cheque the blog now and again 

to find some new posts..

though fallow for the last few months..

( the world around me felt somehow too too-some

to add anything too it..)

i have been blogging for the last 14 years ..

~ with a hiatus here and there ~

and will continue to muse about the this's and that's

that tickertape through my heart and mind..

as the cowgirls are wont to say ~

how can you miss me if i don't go away ?

much gratitude for reading, dear friends..

high

to pray you open to your whole self

to sky, to earth, to sun, to moon

to one whole voice that is you.

and know there is more 

that you can't see, can't hear.

can't know except in moments

steadily growing, and in languages

that aren't always sound but other 

circles of motion.

like eagle that sunday morning

over salt river. circled in blue sky

in wind, swept our hearts clean 

with sacred wings.

we see you, see ourselves and know

that we must take the utmost care

and kindness in all things.

breathe in, knowing we are made of 

all this and breathe, knowing

we are truly blessed because we

were born, and die soon within a

true circle of motion.

like eagle rounding out the morning

inside us.

we pray it will be done 

in beauty.

in beauty.

                    ~ eagle poem

                            joy harjo

it is hot..hot like bangalore, like cairo

i have taken up roost in a red plastic chair

these last few days

with my spy glasses, used for viewing great distances ..

in any shade i can find..

watching, surveying, witnessing the eagle nest

chaliced in a faraway tree ..

leaping greenly spirit branches keep me guessing ~

is it a bird? a plane? a superhero?

and yes, indeed it is..

an eaglet..fledging..

the hero of my morning look outs

hopping in the depth of the eyrie to its very edge, 

expanding the span of great wing,

fluttering flaps of fantabulous faith

lifting ever so and springing to a nearby branch..

o imagine

what courage and gallantry to rest on the verge

of upward mobility and downward dive..

then

back to the nest

and 

stillness

and 

rest 

gathering the cliff notes 

for flight

for fly again for the first time

breathless..

not able to lower my specs

awed

and so strangely melancholy 

and so strangely exuberant 

and say out loud  

to myself 

to those deep listeners..

we must be our best selves always..

we must be 

nothing small 

or narrow 

or  low....

 

seasonal greetings

 yes ....

seasonal greetings..

this is an expression that the folks 

in india use to give voice to their hearts 

without offense to any one's credo or faith.. 

this early easter morning..

a chorus of owls..

singing praises for the day..

seasonal greetings..

in the morning's grey cool light

just beginning to stretch out 

across the blue yonder ~

one right on the roof top summit..

silhouetted, close-in presence

holy whooooo.. 

whoo, whoo, who..

then, the well timed reply of a trinity ..

hither and yon.. up and away.. yonder and thither..

standing in the nippy daybreak dawn

a congregation of one..

beholding the inquiring resonance  

bringing back to life that which never dies..

o my..

just yesterday, i myself used the expression

seasonal greetings to an elder (ha!) on the morning path..

a small woman with a coat of many colors..

camera in hand, binoculars around her neck..

walking slow and golden-aged..

her rainbow coat matched my rainbow shoes -

we are a pair, i said.. as i caught up to her

your coat, my shoes..

o yes, she concurred..

we chatted on about what she had spied on the field, in the waters..

where we lived and what great good fortune to be alive and thriving

even in our olde and elder and wizened lives..

as we parted, 

seasonal greetings !

she offered back..

passover for me !

i responded..

o! we have passover persons

in our family..

i was just at a seder..

and i sang out : 

LET MY PEOPLE GO!

she rang out :

AMEN! 

her hands uplifted..

her shining eyes aglow..

palms folded -

we bowed to one another 

i, with my rainbow shoes..

she, with her rainbow coat..

walked the path away from one another

joined at the heart

in the midst of 

seasonal greetings ..

and in the sweetness of friendship

let there be laughter, and the sharing of pleasures.

for in the dew of little things the heart

finds its morning and is refreshed.

                ~ kahlil gibran