i've seen it....

more than once, more than twice..
the seduction of a hummingbird

faster than the speed of light

The hummingbird: a seduction
(to be read aloud lustily)

If I were a female hummingbird perched still
and quiet on an upper myrtle branch
in the spring afternoon, and if you were a male
alone in the whole heaven before me, having parted
yourself, for me, from cedar top and honeysuckle stem
and earth down, your body hovering in midair
far away from jewelweed, thistle, and bee-balm;
And if I watched how you fell, plummeting before me,
and how you rose again and fell, with such mastery
that I believed for a moment you were the sky,
and the red marked-bird diving inside your circumference
was just the physical revelation of the light’s
most perfect desire;
And if I saw your sweeping and sucking
performance of swirling egg and semen in the air,
the weaving, twisting vision of red petal
and nectar and soaring rump, the rush of your wing
in its grand confusion of arcing and splitting
created completely out of nothing just for me;
Then when you came down to me, I would call you
my own spinning bloom of ruby sage, my funneling
the storm of sunlit sperm and pollen, my only breathless
piece of scarlet sky, and I would bless the base
of each of your feathers and touch the tine
Of string muscle binding your wings and taste
the odor of your glistening oils and hunt
the honey in your crimson flare,
and I would take you and take you and take you
deep into any kind of nest you ever wanted.
                                      ~ Pattiann Rogers
                                    Song of the World Becoming:
                            New and Collected Poems, 1981-2001


there is something that pulls your eye..
some flash and flicker
some fast and vast verve of air..
whish and woosh
some clickity ratcheting clackity
up and down and inside out
a mantra
a yantra
 that glints in the ear
as well as an eyeful..

and before you know it..
the ascent of some
psychedelic firecracker
rises higher and loftier
than you'd ever imagine that
this delicate winged harlequin
could and should and would -

rocketing thru space
straight up..
straight up..
straight up..

without so much
as a flip
of a whip
the descent
a nose dive..
 aiming for the
very center of our earth
and it is..
as a winged version of Eros..
( the asteroid that comes nearer
to this planet than any celestial body..
except the moon)
to shower its brilliant boldness
on the chosen princess

bleep!
one brisk short reverb..
like the beginning of a fire alarm
caught in mid sentence..
bleep!
an electric staccato hey! 
pitched high and mighty as the flight itself..
look alive, my beauty!

the quick deep dip into the tail feathers
seed planted

faster than the speed of light

tussle

my sis and i got into a tussle..
not unusual for siblings..
this was not the biting, scratching, hitting kind..
we did not bonk each other on the head
with our dolls or books..
our tussle was the tussle of words..

stinging our four ears
suddenly saddening our hearts
pinpricks afflicted without mindful consideration..
our tussle was a tussle of points of view,
of opinions for and against..
and as we parted, they hung heavy
in the "brightening air"
i, for one,  slept on barbs
trying my best to get comfortable
with my own voice..

the next morning i received this in a  newsletter from
https://8limbsyoga.com

W. A. I. T.  Why Am I Talking?

It asks us to check our assumptions and motivations before we open our mouths. It requires us to honor the humanity of those with whom we're in conversation with - to be honest, humble and compassionate.

Is what we have to say actually in service to the greater good?
Below are four questions, known in Buddhism as the Four Gates
of Speech. These questions can help us wait before speaking to help foster understanding and connection.

1) Is it true?
Determining truth is more than ensuring a lack of outright deceit. It involves releasing narratives, filters, biases and evaluations. We're asked to observe what actually has transpired, watching out for conditioned tendencies.

2) Is it necessary?
Is it useful? Will voicing it, in Gandhi's words, "improve upon silence?"This question can help us keep our ego in check. We're invited to keep the big picture in mind - to distinguish between our capacity to add more detail, to correct, object... in the moment from what will lend to the most good in the long run.

3) Is it kind?
Similar to the concept of ahimsa in yoga, this question highlights the importance of doing no harm. Will sharing further connections with others? Will everyone's dignity be upheld? We're asked to do our due diligence in proceeding with care and compassion.

4) Is now the right time to say it?
On a practical level this can look like making sure folks have the time and are in a good place to digest what we have to say. This can also look like checking to see if we're really the ones who should be taking up air time in the moment. Are there other voices that deserve to be heard? It can also be useful to consider if actively listening would be more beneficial.

holy mackerel! - did it resonate..
sharing this w/ my sis ~
we discovered our great and mighty ability
to blurt without alert..
making promises to one another that
..in the future..
we would hold or bite our tongues
(ouch!)
of course, also knowing without a doubt..
we would find ourselves in another tussle down the road..
after all, what are sisters for?

pulling out william stafford's
the way it is
for a wee bit of solace
i opened straight away to next time 
and heard him say ...plain as day ~
here you go, darlin'..

next time
next time what i'd do is look at
the earth before saying anything. i'd stop
just before going into a house
and be an emperor for a minute
and listen better to the wind
      or to the air being still.

when anyone talked to me, whether
blame or praise or just passing time,
i'd watch the face, how the mouth
had to work, and see any strain, any
sign of what lifted the voice.

and for all, i'd know more -- the earth 
bracing itself and soaring, the air
finding every leaf and feather over 
forest and water, and for every person
the body glowing inside the clothes
like a light.


sharing all this with the yoginis of thursday morn -
after a full, fine practice of ujjayi breath
to make clean and clear our throat chakras,
airing out our heart chakras ~
this beauty from yet another wise website
http://www.turtlehavensanctuary.com
placed in the ring of the palm..
gracing the open waiting heart..

Clearing
by Martha Postlethwaite

Do not try to serve
the whole world
or do anything grandiose. 
Instead, create
a clearing
in the dense forest
of your life
and wait there
patiently,
until the song
that is yours alone to sing
falls into your open cupped hands 
and you recognize and greet it. 
Only then will you know
how to give yourself
to the world 
so worthy of rescue.


shhhhhh..
the world is listening for our silence..

ring of the palm

enso
single brush stroke
zen circle
orb of mindfulness
embodying the unity
of all things -
the endless boundless
transformation of the all..
an inclusive sphere
marrying
hidden and visible
simple and profound
beginning and end
empty and full

one full and empty circle

often in the yoga practice..
we focus on the ring of the palm..
our very own
(if we own anything!)
enso
the circumference
of the palm..
the band that encircles
the heart of the palm -
our generosity.
the palm..
the hand
that gives
and receives..
our tool of reciprocity  ~

downward facing dog
full arm balance
crane
o so many
earth touch postures
brings us hand to heart to clay
o ye practitioners of yoga!
what a blessing we receive..
what a blessing we bestow..

* LIKE ROOTS
our hands imbibe like roots,
so i place them on what is beautiful
in this world.

and i fold them in prayer, 
and they
draw from the heavens
light.
         ~ st. francis
no one lives outside the walls of this sacred place, existence.


* THAT LIVES IN US
if you put your hands on this oar with me,
they will never harm another, and they will come to find
they hold everything you want.

if you put your hands on this oar with me, they would no longer
lift anything to your
mouth that might wound your precious land --
the sacred earth that is your body.....

exhuberant is existence, time a husk.
when the moment cracks open, ecstasy leaps out and devours space;
love goes mad with blessings...
              ~ rumi

* TENDERLY
tenderly, i now touch all
things,
knowing one day we will
part.
          ~ st, john of the cross


in my studies of late i have come across
the most sensual, tender and awake expression -

opening the hand of thought

- coined by kosho uchiyama
here is his meaning :
dwelling here and now in this reality,
letting go of all the accidental things
that arise in the mind opens the hand of thought.

and his practice poem -
like a sunbeam on a bright autumn morning, 
i would like to become completely one,
body and mind,
with transparent, wholehearted practice.


piggybacking thought
upon thought
upon thought
and holding it tight, tight, tight..
becomes mere storytelling which we claim as truth -
our truth and nothing but the truth so help me...

imagine! the clear sky of samadhi..
releasing our grasp on thought
opening the hand of thought
we practice thusly,
and the ring of the palm
becomes the
lotus basket of generosity ~
the full and empty circle of life


* poetry from 
love poems from god
daniel ladinsky

prayer chant before meals

from tara mandala..

this is the new grace @ my table ~
(sometimes it's not what you eat
but how you eat it!)

i receive this sustenance gratefully,
appreciating all the forms of life
that have offered themselves
for my benefit.

i eat and drink with awareness
in the experience of  one taste -
realizing my body is a sacred mandala.

may all my actions be beneficial
and relieve suffering.
may all beings, without one exception,
have happiness and the causes of happiness.

BON APPETITO !

good grief!

o so many friends..
friends of friends..
family friends are
making the transition
moving across the threshold
some whisked away
by disease
olde age
some making choices
to say sayonara
and free themselves
of body, speech and mind..

as hafiz says so graciously -
death is a favor to us
reminding us of our mid-air flight
from vessel to wine glass to..clay..

those of us..
left behind in bones
and flesh
and heartache
reel from the news

let go..
~ our only instruction
at the time of our birth ~
let go..
of the umbilical cord..
let go..
of the wee fisted palm
let go..
of our bladders and bowels..
let go..
of the milky breast
on and on...
letting go -

until we let go of the very shape
and bone and heartbeat and memory
that we have called home for..
how many years?

clearing out my mama's closet
one morning after her death i found
the black cordory jumper she loved to wear
for fine dinners and outings ..
i drew in the fragrance of her..
and found myself slipping the
open arms around my neck.
- it embraced me like the cape
of some action figure..
i wore it all day..
this tender cloak of my mother -
witnessed by a bemused neighbor
as i emptied the recycling outside..
it was dusk when i realized
i had been en-wrapped in her all day..

i step out of her essence
let go
place it on the pile for soroptimist

AND
 that same day..

making applesauce
peeling, coring, cutting
my fingers working
fleeting fast
much quicker than my mama's moved
toward the end of her sauce days
knowing the slowing
will come to my own fingertips
i stop
find my age
this moment
let go
and pace myself


grief..good grief..
these recollections
birdwings rumi calls them..

your grief for what you've lost lifts a mirror
up to where you are bravely working.

expecting the worse, you look and instead,
here's the joyful face you've been wanting to see.

your hand opens and closes and opens and closes.
if it were always a fist or always stretched open,
you would be paralyzed.

your deepest presence is in every small contracting 
                                                                    and expanding,
the two beautifully balanced and coordinated
as birdwings.

phones....keeping quiet...

phones killed the sexiness of the streets..
     - joel meyerowitz

walk the streets in any city,
the paths of a wooded land,
the trails along oceans and around lakes..
aisles in whole foods and co-ops..

where is the
appealing,
beguiling,
enticing,
foxiness
of the human race?

glued
plastered
affixed
pasted
to a
smart phone in hand,
blue tooth in ear..
eyes - glassy
ears - listening
to a
small voice
on the line
in a box
while all the while
we have gone AWOL
for one another
in the flesh..
the flash of a smile -
the catch of the eye..

chapter 12
ON TYRANNY
- timothy snyder
make eye contact and small talk

instead we are eavesdropping
on hundreds of conversations
that have nothing whatsoever
to do with us..

she told him NO a million times..
use the big orange saucepan -
don't tell mom about this, promise?
i sold all my shares this morning -
where is the toilet paper you just brought home?
how many downdogs can you do in a day?
pick up the mess in the front yard before i get home or i'll...
cancer, i think..?
i looked at the house..way too much money..
meet me in the deli by the olive bar -
she's on some kind of drug that makes her..
what a sunset! you are missing out here..
alaska?

remember the days when we would actually
meet someone new at the car wash?
on a bus?
in the cereal section?
tree-dancing?

'tis time to put the thing down..
leave it in the car..
leave it at home, for that matter ~

get sexy again..
even if you are olde and broken..
make it real as santana advises ~
fall in love
with the sound of the waves
the rasp of the streets
your very own footprints


keeping quiet

now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still.

this one time upon the earth,
let’s not speak any language,
let’s stop for one second,
and not move our arms so much.

it would be a delicious moment,
without hurry, without locomotives,
all of us would be together
in a sudden uneasiness.

the fishermen in the cold sea
would do no harm to the whales
and the peasant gathering salt
would look at his torn hands.

those who prepare green wars,
wars of gas, wars of fire,
victories without survivors,
would put on clean clothing
and would walk alongside their brothers
in the shade, without doing a thing.

what i want shouldn’t be confused
with final inactivity:
life alone is what matters,
i want nothing to do with death.

if we weren’t unanimous
about keeping our lives so much in motion,
if we could do nothing for once,
perhaps a great silence would
interrupt this sadness,
this never understanding ourselves
and threatening ourselves with death,
perhaps the earth is teaching us
when everything seems to be dead
and then everything is alive.

now i will count to twelve
and you keep quiet and i’ll go.
                 ~ neruda

by the thousands

they came in the dusky eve..
oodles of them..
winged and strong
in the pinkening sky..

and then..
they landed ..
in the field that i  see
just outside my door..

today..
they rise ..
taking the earth with them..
they hover..
like holy levitating rollers
a rock concert concerto
of snow geese..
coming from the north

when they land
they bring the sky
down
to clay
and all is one
and white

it is the season of renewal..
a revival of the survival
of great flight

one -
only one..
one lone hummingbird
slurps the nectar
from the feeders now..

while the blare and flare
and high rise
saturate the air, the earth
with a dharma teaching
of community..