Wahatoya Dreaming

by John Roedel

(I wrote this for you & me)

I fell through a hole in

a church pew yesterday

and landed right

in the thick amber

field of a piece of

stained glass

I asked a red saint

who was stargazing

“why must I suffer?”

without looking

at me

he said

“to know God.”

I didn’t like

that answer

so

I crawled through

a mist of royal triangles

and swam across a sea of ovals

and scaled a pointed cusp

until I found a glowing sinner

and I asked her the

same question

“why must I suffer?”

she placed her

green hand on my

purple cheek

and sung

“Because a broken heart

is easier to share.”

suddenly

my hands became

turquoise doves

and my lips became

yellow vines

and my feet became

fat red rubies

and I became radiant

painted glass of the divine

and I became

reflected light

and everything

I touched glowed

and now my broken

illuminated heart

colors the walls

of every room I walk into

~ john roedel

by Becky Hemsley

She sat at the back and they said she was shy,

She led from the front and they hated her pride,

They asked her advice and then questioned her guidance,

They branded her loud, then were shocked by her silence,

When she shared no ambition they said it was sad,

So she told them her dreams and they said she was mad,

They told her they’d listen, then covered their ears,

And gave her a hug while they laughed at her fears,

And she listened to all of it thinking she should,

Be the girl they told her to be best as she could,

But one day she asked what was best for herself,

Instead of trying to please everyone else,

So she walked to the forest and stood with the trees,

She heard the wind whisper and dance with the leaves,

She spoke to the willow, the elm and the pine,

And she told them what she’d been told time after time,

She told them she felt she was never enough,

She was either too little or far far too much,

Too loud or too quiet, too fierce or too weak,

Too wise or too foolish, too bold or too meek,

Then she found a small clearing surrounded by firs,

And she stopped…and she heard what the trees said to her,

And she sat there for hours not wanting to leave,

For the forest said nothing, it just let her breathe.

By: Becky Hemsley

bubbles out of its sub-atomic origins

emerging out of the caverns of the formless

and it sits there humming my form from its lips

the form of my soul piles up in layers around me,

One Heart

like children crawling

fingers, hands and feet within

the great big ball of you

they never tire of this

as you disappear beneath the leaves

of their tiny, sweet

little brushstrokes so green

you are breaking out through a door

  pulsing between my shoulder blades

It feels like your lips are poised between them

blowing up my heart bigger and bigger

will I burst?

does that even matter?

there is laughter on the lips of children

their eyes swirl in circles

darting and swerving

like silverfish around me

are they forming my soul?

how can I float so weightless inside your body?

as I let you blow me up and

toss me into the wind

I came here to learn

boundaries.

Back at Home

there was a me

but this me became a

we

so easily

and this we became

The One

so easily

and there was no fear

about not being a

self without a name.

There was no fear flowing

between a me, a we, or

The One.

The feeling of it all

was the same.

There is no word

for this feeling

but now that I’m here

in this body I know that

this feeling is the total absence of fear.

I came here to know this.

You don’t need boundaries at Home

because no one tests them but here

in this body you are separated into

wrongness and rightness,

punished for mis-steps and mis-takes and

shuttled into accepted or discarded.

When you are labeled it is

seemingly irrevocable.

Fear here in this body is

palpable because all the body knows is

birth and death,

these seemingly irrevocable boundaries.

Unfolding into this world showed me

what Home is,

the absence of fear.

Every time I look through my body

to the clouds rumbling the sky,

the winds of Home fill me

and I bless this place

where punishment reigns,

where bounded bodies project their

orphaned aspects onto other bodies

then crucify them.

This world defines my Home

by being the Shadow of it.

This world evokes a searing desire

to carve my way back

to a fearless place where me

becomes we and we become

The One

and this flow bubbles up

bliss

and here

boundaries have no meaning

We are the Heavenly Beings

we have been waiting for.

Within the quarky spaces

of the most invisible places

the Beings of the Core soar

like lightening bugs on

the humid cusp of an

interior twilight.

I can’t tell you when these Beings

decided to unfold out of

the bound seed of Infinity

because Time only exists here at the surface.

I just know that rippling waves of light

started to giggle

then the stomach of the universe

started to hurl its contents out of itself

onto the lips of you and me and they

tasted through you and me then there was

only One Heavenly Being tasting,

giggling, flying, walking, seeing,

feeling the seed become a heart

pounding, pulsing, fluttering, dripping

into the wound of creation.

Wounds when they heal

realize Love.

Wounds grow God.

It took a lot of courage for the Core

to feel.

The Core erupts, emerges

from our mouths, through the sticks

of our limbs, breaking them into

something liquid,

something that flows

like a river dancing,

carving out a creation it can inhale

and exhale finally being

able to sense

Itself.

We expanded into forgetting

then remembering

Ourselves.

We are coming in,

in droves,

stumbling, tripping,

balancing upon a pin-point.

We bring a tender forgiveness.

Wait,

there is nothing to forgive.

Let go

of the wound.

Everything heals and

the Heart Torus

expands to hold it.

We are

the We of the Oneness.

We are the Heavenly Beings

we have been waiting for.

It’s all love

this darkness and this light

When you can see the

darkness

within yourself

you can begin to

forgive it in others

It was no accident

We chose this darkness

to ignite the light

of

who

we

are

is a flowering out

an eruption of God-sweat scents

spiraling out from

the inner core is-ness

of your essence

your soul signature is sensed

in the hues of your aura

the moist steam swirling

as your divinity speaks

through you flying out

 free like silver stallions

feel this inner pulse seep

into the outer coagulations

of your play-times

can you feel the play-grounds

shifting?

the mutating virus of fear dissolves

as we awaken to

the sprouting of spirit

easing the brutal backdrops

of a bipolar world

the cataracts of ego disintegrate

allowing true sight to form

a gentler world

our laughter erupts

pinging off jubilant stars as we

infuse the God-sweat of kindness

into a new world forming

layer upon layer

from a fetal seed

seeking its expression as Love

Spirit is like a balloon.

It seeks to expand itself through

our experience. It seeks to feel itself

through our senses. It seeks to leave itself

in order to return to itself

because it wants to

see itself,

every nook and cranny.

Nothing ascends or descends.

It just breathes.

Spirit seeks to grow itself

through our senses.

It seeks to grow through us as we

seek to grow our way back to Spirit.

We meet in the Spiral between

Creation and Creator

and it is there that we change places.

Creation becomes Creator and

Creator becomes Creation.

We circumscend  into each other’s arms

between dimension and non-dimension.

There is only the swirl of our dance

finding its still-point in union.

There is no ascension. No descent.

Here we join in the Meeting Place

between Spirit and Flesh.

I wonder if my twin sister and I had a similar conversation in the womb?

Life After Birth Parable – Wayne Dyer

 

 

In a mother’s womb were two babies. One asked the other: “Do you believe in life after delivery?” The other replied, “Why, of course. There has to be something after delivery. Maybe we are here to prepare ourselves for what we will be later.”

 

“Nonsense” said the first. “There is no life after delivery. What kind of life would that be?”

The second said, “I don’t know, but there will be more light than here. Maybe we will walk with our legs and eat from our mouths. Maybe we will have other senses that we can’t understand now.”

The first replied, “That is absurd. Walking is impossible. And eating with our mouths? Ridiculous! The umbilical cord supplies nutrition and everything we need. But the umbilical cord is so short. Life after delivery is to be logically excluded.”

The second insisted, “Well I think there is something and maybe it’s different than it is here. Maybe we won’t need this physical cord anymore.”

The first replied, “Nonsense. And moreover if there is life, then why has no one has ever come back from there? Delivery is the end of life, and in the after-delivery there is nothing but darkness and silence and oblivion. It takes us nowhere.”

“Well, I don’t know,” said the second, “but certainly we will meet Mother and she will take care of us.”

The first replied “Mother? You actually believe in Mother? That’s laughable. If Mother exists then where is She now?”

The second said, “She is all around us. We are surrounded by her. We are of Her. It is in Her that we live. Without Her this world would not and could not exist.”

Said the first: “Well I don’t see Her, so it is only logical that She doesn’t exist.”

To which the second replied, “Sometimes, when you’re in silence and you focus and you really listen, you can perceive Her presence, and you can hear Her loving voice, calling down from above.”