Greetings from the Land of Enchantment: December 2016

Friday, December 23, 2016

That I may see . . . day four

that I may see . . . . day four

BhaBhai: if someone seeks and becomes Gurmukh, then he dwells in the home of his own heart.
BhaBhai: The way of the terrifying world ocean is treacherous. Remain free of hope in the midst of hope, and you shall cross over. By Guru’s Grace, one comes to understand himself; in this way, he is Jiwan Mukt, dead while yet alive. II41II (936) –Guru Nanak

In the early days of sobriety,
hope became my password,
literally—to my email, my bank card—everything
Even as my motto denounced all hope:
“Abandon hope all ye who enter here.”
It seemed so very romantic and desperate and spiritual
All at the same time,
Which is actually nothing like early sobriety—
At least the romantic part;
desperate—probably; spiritual—not really,
not at first anyway.

This morning I read,
“remain free of hope in the midst of hope”
and with that consciousness one is promised
liberation—jiwan mukt—remaining dead while yet
Like the seed in winter,
Inert, free of all action,
It longs for nothing, but in the midst
Of that cold, lonely darkness
Spring is promised.
There is hope.

We long for liberation
As a nation, we were built
Upon the myth of
While we held people in chains.
Even now, we bind ourselves
To things, to people, to time.
And those things that we
Should have clung to,
we have let loose upon the winds:
Liberty, justice, truth,
“love thy neighbor.”
We no longer hold these truths
As self-evident; our logic has been
Crucified on a cross of greed and corruption.
So yes, let us abandon hope
In the midst of hope,
And awaken.
These promises of a nation
Will not be given to us.
We must take them
And deliver them to

Wednesday, December 21, 2016

That I may see . . . Day Two

Day two . . . (reflections on my husband)

He stands a man unencumbered
By shame or doubt
Driven only by beauty
And duty
A man on a mission
He does not bow to false patriotism
Instead, guided only by his own internal ethic,
He lives for the good, wherever it is found.
Once a soldier, now a farmer
At war with grasshoppers and drought
But at peace with himself
He stands a free man

An American

Tuesday, December 20, 2016

So that I may see . . . Day One

This morning in my meditation at the Ranch, I asked Yogi Bhajan, How can it be? How can Trump be President-elect? How did this man rise to power? And how is it that the Ardas welcomed his ascendancy?

I heard in response, "So that you may see." So, although I have not used this blog regularly for many years now, I turn to it again as a repository of my exploration of seeing.

Day One…
Bitter cold as I walked
Past the paddock toward my early morning
The Painted Pony, restless in the light of the full moon,
Snorted boldly at me and ran
Like a child in a summer rain.
Surprised, I greeted him
As he stood, defiant,
The cold making a fog of his breath.
The night air catching us both
In a moment of mystery.

How did we get here?