To the Perfect Spouse

You OWN me in this lifetime

Because of how infinitely UNOWNED

I feel and live

While in relationship with you

 

 

P.S. Dear WP friends, thank you for the thoughtful and warm messages waiting for me, as I return from my break 🙂 I took a break to attend to some things that were gaining momentum in my other worlds. The break although served another purpose. I became unwell, affording me rich times of grounding, growing and nourishing my Being, with everything that my Being craved for. As I recover and get back, I feel a clarity of my intentions. I am very eager to explore all the work I missed from all of you 🙂

P.S. 2 – Kindly do share with me what thoughts came up for you, about my sentiment to the Perfect Spouse, in agreement or otherwise 🙂

 

A home with no walls

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Image created by Josiah Harry of Skylarity

Have you ever been in a home like this?
There are close to 50 people in there.
Yet the experience is such that all there is, is space.
Like there are no walls to that home.
The whole universe seems to have opened up …or maybe the home has opened to the space of the Universe.
I was there with a friend who took me to that home. I didn’t know anyone else.
Everyone was so silent and just spacious within …they were just being their pure being.
If eyes met, the most heartful smiles came.
Regulars just melted into purest, warmest hugs …as if knowing what is to be received and/or given.
I venture into the ‘speaking’ area (the living room). You come here if you wish to converse.
Everyone just pure divine energy.
No name, no game, no status, no apparatus, no conclusion, no exclusion.
Isn’t this why we visit temples?
Here each person I spoke to was a temple visited.
I was immersed in the most precious ways of being and conveying and receiving and giving.
Without giving or receiving a thing that I can hold on to.
Yet what was given and received is part of me for this lifetime.
The food served, to be eaten in silence, was just one of the ingredients of nourishment.

We walk around with so many walls …of our name, profession, our beliefs, concepts.
These walls are so much a necessity to bang on, as we keep living.
But what felt like life itself was the perception of no walls.
We walk around striving to be normal …or striving to be extra ordinary.
But what we are, are pure miraculous specks of being.
I am in awe of how these experiences become possible for me …as I keep waking up to a new day of wonder …of what I know are pure soul interactions on a daily basis, just so perfectly waiting to happen.
I began writing on this blog platform with the concept called Infinite Living,
Not knowing it is actually being lived so profoundly …
I left knowing that I will always be supported in my strive to embody Infinite Living.

P.S. This post is dedicated with gratitude to Awakin Circles of ServiceSpace. I am grateful to my friend with whom I spent one evening here.

Just how did the writer in me get born?

When drippings from a touched soul find their way in writing
A poet is born

When the beauty is undying and the joy so fulfilling
A poem is born

When feelings are heart wrenching and clarity is killing
A poem is born

When a surge comes as discomfort and words pour out
A writer is born

When the harmony felt is such that there is no choice but rhyme
A poem is born

When made-up words bring meaning and no-rhyme verse feels musical
A poetry is born

When living alive to feelings, words come to life
A writer is born

When clarity becomes more intense than the pain that afforded it
A writer is born

When no human around can suffice to contain the expression
A poetry is born

When a release is looking to flow out at an unearthly hour
A writer is born

When words choose the person as if a channel
A writer is born

When none can be planned to rhyme or reason
A poet is born

When human spirit gets broken to million-times-ten pieces, yet finds beauty
A poet is born

When Life decides to peel back layers of truth down to the core
A writer is born

When each level of façade is stripped down to bare soul
A writer is born

When all the suffering was a gift, lived through or let through
A writer is born

When there is no knowing if there is more from where it came from
A writer is reborn

When it comes from a place that is hard to own
A writer is born

When the essence of being is wrung out in best expression
A poetry is born

When it feels like a soft glove over the brutal thing
A poetry is born

When the loneliness in truthfulness is more than can enjoy yet
A writer is born

When inspirations come out of nowhere as if universal cues
A poet is born

Every story a writer writes may not be the writer’s story
But then the writer lives within herself
A thousand lives or the stories of lifetimes
Often that of all of humankind

So if you can just rest
In the drippings of the writers’s soul
Momentarily let go off the sufferings you insist on
A writer would feel content for being born.

Looking through the rain

As I sit in my patio now, looking through the rain …

Rain pouring, pouring love
Earth soaking, soaking heart
Winds blowing, blowing directions
Rainlines crossing, crossing thoughts
Waterbaskets weaving, weaving emotions
Branches brushing, brushing chill
Puddles float bubbles, bubbles burst in mind
Winds stand still, stands still mind

Birds picking under tree, tree is bare
Few dry leaves hanging wet, wet desires few soaked in faith
Feel at home, home that is within me
Wide open spacious, spacious yet so full
Look through the rain more, more I get the inward pull
It keeps pouring, pouring love
Each grain of sand soaking, soaking each cell, body and soul …

Relations – A leaf that loves the Tree

When a leaf lets go of a tree …is either sad?

A Tree rooted
Through the seasons
Branches reaching
Finding directions

Leaves of the Tree, light and lively
Bound and connected to the roots of the Tree
Through the branches and the trunk

Does that connection seem like Relations
Amongst them all, in their perception?
Does it define their paradigm of existence?

It Does …

When the Tree is a Family
With a name tag and generations linking

A leaf has a thin delicate link to the Tree
It is nourished with what flows
From the roots, trunk and branches
As the Tree prolifically grows

The leaf happy and grateful as ever
Limits it’s range of movement, for the link
Until days and years unfold of shocking sadness
That the leaf held on with such love
While the branches simply push and shove
Cutting off the nurture, the leaf lived on …

The stalk of the leaf gave up …
As it let go and flew off the branch
Oh such lightness and freedom
The beauty of the gained wisdom
That all the love was within her

She feels all peaceful and powerful
As she drifts away into the space
There are more others like her
Sky is the limit, planet is the playground …

The Tree still exists for her
In her heart and this lifetime’s soul
She will happily link back
If a waft of love and meaning calls her
For she is forever a longing heart
Full of love for whoever sees her …

When a leaf lets go of a tree …is either sad?

Imperfect Perfections

Ever walked into an elementary school science fair
To find some perfect ones and some that are made by kids?
Now which exactly is perfection there?

Ever had a long time dream come true?
A feeling of contentment it brings …
But also have a more nascent one stirring inside you?
A tinge of anxiousness it brings …
Now where exactly is perfection there?

Ever wanted to go soak in a hot tub, overlooking majestic mountains?
Wished it was blue, clear with the perfect weather…
But it rains, turns cold, just more beautiful too?
You go anyway and soak in the warm waters, with the rain drenching from above
You lose yourself and the senses in the warm and the cold together…
Now which exactly is perfection there?

Ever dream of a perfect family as you grow old
2 doting kids, maybe grandkids some…
Not too close, not too far …
Spend life to control and make that happen?
Or look at each relations as infinite souls
Finding their way to being whole…
You be in their highest support
Now which is perfection there?

Humanness is the richness of life
Infiniteness is the measure of joy
As we dabble in each
Humanness comes with no choice
It’s the other that is a conscious choice
Now which is perfection there?

Perfection is in the imperfections
Perfection is in the timing and the design
Perfection is the experience when we let go
Express as if a contribution to the divine flow
Perfection and imperfection
What is what anymore I don’t know!

Breathe life

While significantly playing our roles on earth …parent, son/daughter, employee/employer, relator/related in every/any possible way …somewhere we are always trying to connect with the individual in us. We are trying to make sense about what brings pain and joy. To make choices that work for us best.

If we are not giving any regard, during the day, to the fact that we are breathing …how else are we, in any more effective way, connecting with ourselves? We came in alive on earth with our first breath in and we will leave when we last breathe out. If we are not cultivating a full breath, then in a way, we are limiting our possibilities at anything that is called life or life-related. We are cutting short the supply of life force itself, that which propels anything out of us. We put daily demands on our body with such enormous expectations.The quality of our breath determines our experience in our body and life. If we work with our breath, the breath will work for us, for  lifetime.

When we are forcing, resisting, feeling like nothing works in our favor, not even in our body …it is our turn to work with our body and life. Allow it, nurture it, nourish it, communicate with it. Bring your attention to effective methods and cycles of breath, so that it flows in and out, empty of thinking …and then is available for the messages from the body. They are not very logical, mental messages in words, they are more intuitive cues that feel more relaxed from within. They lead you towards more integration and choices more in harmony of your being.