All posts by Gyandeva

Gyandeva is a seeker, pathological meditator, a veteran firefighter and rescue tech, a poet, a blogger (new site) & writer. More importantly, he is a father of three—meaning he is also a lecturer, teacher, chef, order taker, taxi driver, coach, mentor and aspirin addict—and has found applying spiritual practices to all aspects of life provides a vast amount of possibility and abundance. While not adhering to any one religion, his practice of spiritual expression has shown that there is a unity in all things (even religions) and that in that unity we can find that Oneness in ourselves even as we enjoy the individual expression of that unity we are. You can also connect with Gyandeva on Twitter and on Facebook. Give his blog a Facebook hug at Tom Grasso, Writer.

Through the Veiled Glass Door

The Veiled Door
Through the Veiled Glass Door
I see her…
As a painting of the Divine
She speaks to me through time and space
Issuing a prayer to some part of me
That part of me
That can never blink…
…or doubt
…or fear.
Through the Veiled Glass Door
I see her…
Like a running stream to a thirsty man
I am nourished instantly
While wanting something more
Much more
From the journey that created this thirst to begin with
Each step…
…to her.
My hand reaches out to the Veiled Glass Door
I want her…
Like a happy child chasing a butterfly
Just to marvel at its beauty
The door slowly opens as she stirs 
I am close…
So close…
My eyes fixed on the angel in front of me
I bend my lips to her cup to drink.
On the other side of the Veiled Glass Door
I have her…
Heaven sets upon us like a clear blue sky
The sunlight announces itself through the breaks in her hair
Sets her face aglow
The beauty that steals my breath from my lungs
Now shares the heart beating within my body
And the tears from my soul
And is all I could ever ask for.


Left adrift upon the ocean
Curse the tide…fighting for the shore
In windy hell the storm clouds rain
Can’t offer something more
Seek the mountain through the valley
Ride the sky that you adore
Crash and burn in time…the mountainside
Falling through the door.
Words of concern roll into the ether
Her reply…bitter to the taste
He swallowed down the pill she gave to him
He’s a big, big waste.
Shadows in the open
Mark the time he hit the strings 
Found the music out of tune…he played
Heard the lies in everything
For certain paid the Devil
Looked into what she said
Found that he could not trust a thing
The song echoes in his head.
Wicked is the ocean
Adrift like he was before
Silently the winds of hell they came
And pushed him to the floor.
photo by: Uncleweed

If Only You Were Here

A pink-hued sky announces the end
Of yet another day
The empty seat, the empty bed
What is there left to say?
To you…if only you were here.
We’ve walked here before
I see your footprints in the sand
I’d set the world on fire
If that was your demand
If only…if only you were here.
I sit here watching time
As I sit here wishing you were here
With your hand meshed in mine
There’d be nothing I could fear
If only…if only…you were here.

The Broken Umbrella (Creative Writing Exercise)

“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.” ~Lao Tzu

It was just a solitary, broken umbrella.  To the casual observer it meant nothing.  It was refuse, trash, and needed to be discarded before the next home game.  It had outlived its usefulness and could no longer serve its purpose.  Soon, it would end up yet another anonymous object at the bottom of a landfill somewhere, decaying for a million years in the land of unwanted things.

Yet it stood there proudly, its bright red color contrasting greatly against the stadium’s somber grey concrete benches.  It had been a couple of weeks since the team’s last home football game, and another was coming up in a few days.  The maintenance crew was busy at work, getting the field ready and the stands prepared for the warm bodies that would give life to this otherwise cold landscape.  Everyone there could see the red umbrella, but no one really noticed it.  That is what happens when something becomes old and broken.  The protector becomes garbage.  The needed becomes discarded.  To many who worked that field on this day that umbrella would become a harbinger of things to come.  They, too, would become discarded when no longer loved, needed, or wanted.  They, too, would be anonymous.  Their bright color would fade into the grayness, and they would be forgotten.

This umbrella had, however, given a gift in its state of disrepair.  It had been protecting a man and woman, lovers, as they sat and talked under the steady rain a few days earlier.  They had been having trouble in their relationship, both feeling as if they had become broken and forgotten to the other.  They both desperately wanted to work it out, to fix what had been broken, but neither would give up their anger.  As the conversation became a debate and the debate became an argument, both began to lose sight of their truth.  Soon, the innuendo became threats and it seemed like all would be lost on that cold, wet October day.

Suddenly, a gust of wind blew and the once strong umbrella bent in the middle.  It’s bright red covering folded backwards, and its arms gave way to the pressure.  Both became soaked instantly, but the man and woman stopped their argument as the rain became a torrent.  They began to curse the umbrella and the rain, running for shelter in one of the open doorways that led into the bowels of the stadium.

Once reaching drier climes, the stopped to get their bearings and to regain their senses.  As they wiped raindrops from their faces they looked at each other.  The eyes, those gateway to the soul, met and suddenly the world stopped around them.  Something clicked.  She suddenly was that beautiful woman he fell in love with, and he was that caring man she loved.  Their hands moved in unison as he moved the hair from her eyes, and she wiped some raindrops from his forehead.  Their words stopped, their anger was gone and all that was left was the indescribable force that had brought them together.  The resistance subsided, and they stood, man and woman, lovers again.

“A lot of good this umbrella was,” the man said, looking at the broken thing in his hand.

“You know, it’s been a long time since we’ve danced in the rain,” came her reply.

They looked at each other and smiled.

“Yeah, it’s been too long.  Let’s go,” the man said.  He grabbed her hand and the ran out onto the concrete heading towards the field.  On the way, the man dropped the umbrella along the benches where it would stay until it was picked up by the maintenance crew a few days later.

The sounds of laughter and rain echoed within the walls of the empty stadium as the lovers danced and played in the rain.  After a while their bodies would become cold and they would embrace to get warm.  They both remembered how nicely their bodies fit together, her head on his chest, his arms around her, his hand holding her head tightly to that spot where his heart beat.  It felt so good to remember how right this was.  It felt so good to feel how perfect everything would be when they just leaned on one another.

He leaned down and kissed the top of her head.  She, looked up at him, and they kissed like they hadn’t in quite some time.  They held each other in this lover’s pose, remembering all along what made their world work.  This, they remembered, was the Truth.

“Baby, take me home.  I need you,” the woman whispered.

He took her hand again and they began to run to the stadium’s exit leaving their umbrella behind.  In a moment that umbrella had given way, and the two would become one yet again.  As the rain washed away their pain they remembered their love.  Neither would recall what they were arguing about, and neither cared.  Instead, they focused on the love they had rediscovered and the warmth they had given to one another on even the coldest of days.  A gust of wind and a broken umbrella had provided a miracle of sorts, and one that would not be forgotten for the rest of their lives.

Even in breaking there is purpose, and even in getting wet there is hope.  No one would know how important that umbrella was.  It was picked up and put in the dumpster with the garbage but it had served an enormous purpose.  Lovers who would find their eternal purpose that day owed it all to something they would never know and never remember.  As their days became years and their years became decades it all made sense, and the man and woman never forgot to dance in the rain.  And they never bought another umbrella.

photo by: annnna_

The Blade (A Poem)

I wonder to whom I owe this pleasure
Of some distorted story line
In some unholy scene of bloodless torture
As if some common pretentious wannabe 
Has reigned over me like a troubled god.
When you pull that rusty blade
Aim for the heart
Do not take your time with it
But make it quick, painful, angry
Just don’t keep me in the dark.
For you may find when the blade comes down
That it’s not some whimpering dog you find
Laying in a ball, waiting…
But the keeper of hundred blades like that one
In a box not unlike the one you gave.
A smile, a jeer, some fortuitous deflection
And it’s off, the game is over
The warrior stands and eyes the sullen wound
Licks the blood that begins to rain
The taste reminds him of who he was.
He stares at his attacker
And a sense of dread befalls him
The hand once trusted now stole the life from him
The blade its simple tool
As he falls to his knees and begs his soul to leave.
But there are no tears to cleanse him
Or cries in the night to raise his humanity
Only the clean cut of a story told
The crusted blade reflects a distant star
That once had lit his way.
So now a choice
To fight true or give up to something new. 
We shall see.
But to a truth he remains a slave
To the lie he remains a curse
And to both he remains…alive.

While She Sleeps

 While she sleeps
I stare into a wild unknown
Seeking out the better parts of me
Wanting to make them real.
While she sleeps
My heart drifts one way
While my mind drifts the other
One must lead and one must follow.
And I choose
While she sleeps
My heart must win the moment
Because my mind has been so distorted.
To love…
Without assumption and without condition
In the silence I will wait
In my hand will be the answer
In my heart will be the key
And in my mind will be a resolve to see these choices through
To the end
And she will know that I am here waiting
While she sleeps.
photo by: Torsten Mangner

The Final Breath







He laid there, the immense pain in his chest beginning to numb under the realization that he was dying.  Just moments before he was alive, enjoying the morning with his beloved, laughing about the memories they had created the night before.  Now, he was sprawled out on the living room floor fighting for air, and wanting so desperately to talk.

She was there, above him, her hands holding his face as they had a thousand times before.  The worry in her eyes was clear as she begged him not to leave her.  “I love you baby, please stay with me.  We never have to be apart again, I promise.  Stay with me, I love you so much.  Please…please.”

He wanted to talk, but the words just would not come out.  He wanted to remind her that he loved her too.  He wanted to bring her back to the many moments they shared.  As her blue eyes cried the rains of hell onto him, he wanted to bring her back to Heaven, the place that they shared when their bodies meshed and their minds fell into each other.  He wanted so badly to comfort her as she tried to comfort him by touching him, kissing him, and reminding him that yes, he was all she ever needed.  All he could do, however, was lay there.  As the tears streamed down from the corner of his eyes he could only stare at her and beg whatever gods there were that this would not be the end.

His desperate struggle for air began to settle as his mind drifted back to the first time he saw her.  It was a picture, and her eyes had enveloped his senses and drew his attention.  He couldn’t explain the feeling, he only could utter something to himself that he would say to her a short time later: “beautiful”.  She stole his attention to the point that despite loving the mountains he did not notice them behind her.  All he could do was look at her face, those eyes and that smile.  He felt he knew her once, although he couldn’t say when.  He also felt he needed to know her again, although he couldn’t say why.  So, he sent a simple message, and then came her reply.

He could remember the reply, the poetic way she stated her emotions of the moment.  He could feel her presence despite never meeting her.  In a brave and courageous moment this man had sent that woman a message and she had replied.  He knew then that something was happening within him.

A sudden shift brought him back to his reality.  “I’m going to get the phone to call 9-1-1.  Baby, please hold on!”

“NO!” he wanted to scream.  “Please stay here with me.  I need you baby, hold my hand.  Kiss me.  I don’t have much time left.  I have so much I need to say to you.”

She was gone, and although only a few feet it seemed like a million miles had separated them.  They had begun their relationship hundreds of miles apart, and although they had settled into a routine he could remember the pain of being separated from her.  So many days had to be spent missing her and wishing she was there with him.  In the early days he had often doubted that this woman could love him. He had often doubted that she could stay true to him.  He often caved to the frantic fear of his mind created long before he ever met her.  Even at its worst when they ended for a short time, she came back to him proving that he mattered, and that he had value to someone.  She loved him, he could see it in her eyes and feel it in her touch, and now as he heard it in her voice as she frantically begged the dispatcher to get there as fast as he could.  As she screamed at the phone, he only wanted her voice to become sweet again like it was when she said “I love you” or “come to bed baby”.

“Please sweetheart, let me hear you sing” his mind whispered as his mouth remained silent.  “Don’t cry, just whisper in my ear and laugh.  God, let me here that laugh please.  I have a joke here somewhere, please just laugh.”

He could almost hear her laugh.  It made him tingle to hear it.  Her eyes would light up and her mouth would curve “just so”.  It was no wonder everyone loved her so much.  It used to drive him crazy, and he often felt in the beginning like she liked them more than she liked him.  She paid more attention to them, and he felt relegated to a dark corner of the room.  He believed she gave them more of her than she gave him, but once he began to listen and to see the truth he realized what a fool he was.  She gave him so much more of herself than she had given anyone else.  She loved him, and offered to him parts of her he was sure no one else had ever seen.  She even gave him what he asked for, and in the process showed him the truth.  “What a fucking idiot I was” he said to himself.  “I want my fucking life back, I want to love her like she deserved to be loved from the first time we met.  Please God, give it back to me, I won’t waste a second…”

God’s answer was a gasp for air and an intense pain in his chest.  He shook his head angrily at the reply, and then focused as he had learned on the beauty around him.  He could feel his children in his arms again as they had been as babies.  He could hear them say “I love you dada” and feel their little hands take his index finger as they struggled to walk.  He could feel them cuddled next to him when they got older as he read their favorite book.  He could remember the lectures to his son about sports, the diatribes to his daughters about boys, the millions of laughs and the relatively small numbers of tears.  He loved to make them laugh, and he would often make himself the butt of his own jokes to get them laughing hysterically. As he looked into his woman’s eyes something must have told her, “please tell my babies I love them.  Please don’t ever let them forget.”

“I won’t.  But you’re not going anywhere.  You will tell them yourself.”

“God I wish” was his heart’s reply.  His children were the first people he ever felt pure love for.  They taught him what it was to love and be loved, and the woman who now cradled him softly taught him how right he was.  His children gave him value as a father, she taught him value as a lover, together they taught him value as a man.  Even now as he spent his last moments in this existence she was here, showing him his value and the true meaning of love.  It wasn’t in the nifty words he could string together.  It wasn’t in the sex.  It wasn’t in the outward show of affection.  It was in the truth that made all of those things possible, but not necessary.  They were necessary to the ego, the truth was necessary only to itself and it owed something only to itself.  He had understood that early on, but it took him time to get over himself to actually use it. His past had once so cluttered his mind that it stole precious moments away from him and from them.  Moments made even more precious by their imminent end.

He could feel the end coming.  Within him became a mixture of peace and pain, of darkness and light.  He realized this interesting parallel in the life we all lead.  It seemed what we call death is just like what we call life, a mixture of suffering and joy.  Even now, as he suffered intensely amid the final pathway to peace he couldn’t go there.  Not yet.  He wanted to spend one more moment with this woman who had changed his life and brought the sunshine where none existed.  For that he would bear whatever pain that had to be borne.  He suddenly became calm, and the pain seemed to subside.  This, as it had been his entire life, was the power of Love.

He looked at her and felt healthy.  His breathing seemed to return to normal, and the pain in his chest subsided.  He shook his head slowly, although he was not sure at what. It felt like the first time they met, with a mixture of excitement and anticipation followed by realization and love.  Then she laughed, oh God she laughed.  Through the tears and sniffles she laughed.  His head, now on her thighs as she stroked his head and wiped the tears from his cheeks, shook a bit with each burst of laughter.  He was able to lift his arms long enough to wipe her hair from her face and stroke the contour of her jaw line one final time.  Suddenly, he found his voice for one last poetic verse to his lover.

“Baby, I love you.  Since the dawn of time I have loved you.  It may be here, or it may be there, but somewhere I will be loving you.  Please, know that it is you, and it always has been you.  I am grateful for last night, and for every night I have had with you.  I am also very grateful for this moment and that it was with you.  I love you…I swear.”

As she bent to kiss him, he closed his eyes, grateful that the last vision he would have in this lifetime was of her, his lover, his friend, his guiding star.  They kissed sweetly with a passion that had never left.  With that, he inhaled deeply and headed toward peace.

photo by: LievenVM

The Unbridled Truth Within Us

In the finite sands of THAT time
She called, she came, she wanted
She took me
She left me
She took me again
And now I laugh as a lump of flesh on her bed
Never wanting to leave
Never wanting to say a word
But the unbridled truth within me.
Do I give myself to the One?
Or do I save myself for something I will never find?
Those demons, ah those demons
Fucking with me even in my moments of joy
Teaching me what I want 
By giving me what I don’t
Tying me up in the web of my own design
Leaving me for dead
Fighting desperately as I cling to hope of salvation.
As the sun sets and the horizon comes alive with color
I sit in subtle gray
Wondering about that moment when I knew
That moment when I saw her 
And realized that the quiver in my legs
Was not from fear alone.
I wonder what I have to offer this woman
I search, look, ask and struggle
And I find nothing but the hope in my own eyes.
Through the night I toss and turn
Looking for the dream to bring me joy
I reach for her, nothing
This is not her affair
This is mine and mine alone
And this weight alone I will bear
So I stare into the void in my own mind
And wonder if I can defeat it
To show her the love that is me beyond this thought.
Alone I watch the Sun bring itself to view
The wonders of nature stir the Soul within
As the music of the Heavens awakens the rest of me
Head pounding I take a weakened look
At the empty spot residing next to me
And I can see her there
A figment of my imagination
Or my heart begging for a reprieve?
To that I think the answer lies somewhere in between.
In missing her I find the pathway to my heart
I hope and pray the answer we will find
In our next meeting
When in the finite sands of another time
She calls to me, she comes, she wants
She takes me
She keeps me
To take me yet again
And we laugh as crumpled mounds of flesh on her bed
Never wanting to leave
Never having to say a word
Yet knowing the unbridled truth within us.

When (Poem)

I withhold
When I don’t know why I’m angry
I remember
When I simply want to forget
I create
When I just want to sit and watch you
I hurt
When I truly want to forgive.
I argue
When I wish that she would hold me
I complain
When I would rather feel her kiss
I scream
When I would rather say I love you
I fear
When all I see is darkness.
I talk
When I simply want to listen
I doubt
When I know I see the truth
I fight
When I’d rather purely love her
I cry
When it’s the laughter that I want.
I hold tightly
When I know I should let go
I let go
When I know I should be clinging
I question
Everything thing I know
I answer
With a distinct and noble lie.
I want more
When I should be needing less
I see what was
When I should be seeing now
I know I’m human
When I tear my life to pieces
I know I’m Divine
When I love me just the same.
photo by: DonkeyHotey