What you feel is life, what you live is another story.
~
I see you in my heart
I see you in my soul
I see you in the everything
In the glue that keeps me whole.
I see you in the morning
I see you in the night
I see you to the left of me
And I see you to the right.
The lightning crashes and thunder roars all around while I stand protected by this thin piece of fired sand. I want to step out into the darkness, to feel nature’s fury and take a chance that this life is not yet done with me. I want to leave this place where I feel secure and protected into venture the wild unknown; to get that sense of freedom and knowing that I am alive.
The voice calls and beckons me to step outside. A bolt sears through the sky illuminating what cannot be seen in the darkness. I can see the highlights of the trees in front of this door as the thunder asks for my answer. I raise my hand to the glass and can see the outline of my hand reflected as if a part of me is outside trying to get in. Is the other me frightened? It the other me asking for me to protect him? Or is he asking me to come with him, to venture into the great unknown where the only certainty was uncertainty?
Whichever, I stand alone looking at myself in the glass unsure of the steps I am about to take. I am here, now…not there, then. The reflection of the self I see disappears with each flash of light as the Self I wish to be beckons, knowing that whether I am here or there I am seeking that call of the wild I have heard since the day I was born.
I look around in my box, this place I have built for myself that somehow feels safe.
This box is painful. Each piece of timber laid, each window set, each nail driven a testament to pain. In pain I sought relief; I sought security and I built this place to give me a sense of that. Yet, in a storm such as this we begin to see that each piece of timber, each nail, and each shard of broken glass is a weapon against us in the winds of time. Each link of the chain we wrap around ourselves becomes a testament to a lie, and we begin to strangle the very thing we want to be. We weigh ourselves down with a false sense of everything, never knowing what we are because of the boxes and chains we have forced ourselves into.
Somehow the wind, rain, lightning and thunder don’t seem as dangerous as this place that is giving me the illusion of peace and safety. Dying free is better than living under the burden of these things. I want to be free and enjoy this lightness of being. I want to dance in her arms with the rain drenching us. I want to hear her song in the wind, feel her power in the natural state we are in. I need to break free if I am ever going to get those things I want the most; those things I see when my mind is still and my heart is open. I need to shatter the glass door so the storm can envelop all of this so that I can never return here.
I pick up the hammer I have used so many times before in building this place. It brings back memories I don’t wish to have. I stare at it, wondering where I ever found such a tool, and can’t remember when I ever picked it up. I don’t want it anymore. It needs to be lost in the storm. I look around and smile. I can’t wait to be free of this place and walking into the unknown. I walk up to the door. I feel a sense of trepidation and relief mixed together in this moment. Soon I will be without shelter. Or will it be the sky is my roof? I chuckle at the thought, somehow knowing…
I look up, seeing the other me slowly raise the hammer with a look of fear in his eyes and determination in his grip. He hurls the hammer both toward me and away from me at the same time. I hear the sounds of glass shattering along with the rush of wind and crack of thunder. One of us ceases to be in that moment of great liberation. I am free as the orange tinted clouds betray the dawning of a new day on the horizon. I cry, I laugh, and I dance…
I don’t seek to be your lover,
I seek to be your way,
To realize the Love within you,
To see the sunrise, to see the sunset,
To be the clouds on a raining Sunday afternoon.
I have hurt you a thousand times,
So that you could release your own suffering,
Drop it in the pool of Life,
And let it sink into the abyss,
Never to be seen again, yet never gone for good.
You are a Flower,
Powerful in beauty yet delicate to touch,
You bask equally in the Sun and the Rain,
When you are fully bloomed,
You brighten the world with you.
A Flower does not bloom,
Until first it has been tortured with Life,
It must face death to know Life,
It must face itself to know its Self,
And then open Itself to the world.
It’s thorns protect it from many predators,
While It’s beauty inspires them to peace,
It does not protect Itself to continue to live,
It protects Itself so that it may create unending harmony,
And bless us with Its sweet fragrance.
A Flower does not realize Its power,
A Flower cannot see Its beauty,
A Flower cannot understand Its own importance,
A Flower simply breaks through the ground,
A sits still awaiting Its purpose realized.
When you are open my dear Flower,
My heart is filled with unending Joy,
When you are closed,
I focus on the thorns that protect you,
And the drops of blood that rain from my needy hand.
You are You,
Radiance that steals the breath from my soul,
Fragrance that gives pause to my senses,
And beauty that gives purpose to my eyes,
While giving form to the path I am on.
You are here in the Now,
Do I pot you and carry you where I may go?
Or do I sit in silence and just be with you?
I pray your roots are where my feet may touch the Earth,
Allowing our eternal dance of Love.
Flower be still!
Even as you move where the winds of mind may take you,
Do not let those breezes effect the Knowing,
Just allow them to carry the Fragrance of the Love you know,
So that others may know it too.
Be truthful in your repose,
And be humble in your return,
Do not cater to the voices in your head,
But feel the voices in your heart,
And let them out in silent harmony.
Be like the Flower still,
Do not speak your truth, Be your truth,
Do not speak your love, Be your Love,
Do not love yourself, But Love your Self,
A Flower does not speak about its beauty to the world.
Fold upon your Self,
So that you may bloom another day!
Share your Self with the Universe,
For the Love that you release is eternal,
As every part of the Universe shares your sweet nectar.
Now we move, and sing the song we feel,
In Love we share this moment realized,
And in passing we have created an eternity,
You are now me, and I am now you,
In blessing the Flower still.
Original photograph by Sandy Chase
I am sitting here, goose bumps covering my skin and tears welling up in my eyes. Each hair on my body is alive as if each is reaching for the sky while my body seems to be melting into the space beneath it. My breath is still slow, my heart content to beat in time with the rhythm that has pulsed through it. I am alone but not lonely. I am still but far from doing nothing. I am alive and I am aware even as the universe fades from view in eyes wide open.
Thus ends my midday meditation and for those of you who may not have experienced this I highly recommend it. It’s not the first time that I have been graced with such an explosion of emotion. Once, when I was about 14, I had such a tremendous experience while meditating that I stopped practicing until I could better understand the experience. In that moment I cried like a baby as a sense of love came cascading down from points all around me. I felt the room fade away as all that remained was the sense of love that filled the areas where intense pain once dwelled. Light filled darkness, and the unusual experience of joy filled my heart. Needless to say, I was not prepared to handle it.
I was not alone but I was lonely in my youth. I was a tortured soul if ever there was one, with parents who instilled such agreements in me as “I am not worthy” or “I am nothing”. They also created agreements for me that caused me to fear love, to fear commitment, to fear giving myself freely and to fear trusting in anything with a heartbeat. Yes, they drew up the contracts but it was me who readily agreed to sign them. I did not understand the latter part of that equation until after my children were born and love began to invade places I kept locked deep within me. Today, those places are becoming “public parks” where anyone can visit without a moment’s hesitation on my part.
It was not until recently that I decided those contracts must become null and void. Now, you just don’t cancel a contract with fear or anger. It just doesn’t work that way. Rather, you must replace those contracts with agreements that make them null and void. You don’t “ask” for release, you release yourself (action, by the way, is the purest form of asking). I’ll say that again, this time without the parentheses. Action is the purest form of asking. Perhaps, for those of you who don’t know me, this requires a bit of explanation using my patented analogies.
Say I want to have a successful business in landscaping and I am a very creative landscaper with many talents for the task. I sit in silent prayer asking the Universe (or God) to make my business successful. I do this for countless hours a day, several days a week for several weeks in a row. At the end of the practice, I look at my sales figures in total disbelief. “Zero sales!?,” I shout. “The universe must hate me. That law of attraction stuff is nothing but nonsense!!”
Source: Photobucket (username: eyeness)
I suggest that is simply not so. What you have truly done is ask the universe to make you successful at sitting still and praying, to which it replied “YES!” I have found in my experience that action is the only question the Universe actually understands. If I sit in a church somewhere and pray for world peace, and then leave the building and attack a person walking down the street, which request am I actually asking the Universe to meet? That answer seems relatively simple, and to me is one reason gurus like Gandhi said, “BE the change you wish to see in the world” and not “pray that the world changes”. Make sense? I can’t find anything else that is clearer spiritually.
Having this experience within me, I discovered that I cannot simply ask that an agreement with fear be nullified. I cannot ask for an end to loneliness while remaining in an empty room attached to a need for companionship. I cannot ask to be loved while continually spreading fear to those around me. I cannot ask to “see the light” while sitting on the basket that covers it. No, I must make other agreements and, in turn, ask the question correctly. I must walk out of my empty room toward a room filled with others (or lose my attachment to companionship) if I no longer want to be lonely. I must spread love if I want to see love in return. I must lift the cover if I wish to see the light under it. Action, therefore, is the question the Universe understands.
Now, back to the analogy. I ask the Universe to have a successful landscaping business not by praying for it, but rather by going out and doing a good job at a good value. I relish in my passion for it and it, in return, provides me with success. I have made an agreement with success by not only identifying my passion and talent but by putting that passion and talent in ACTION. To this, the Universe always says “YES!”
What Agreements Does the Universe Have With You? (source: NASA)
Once I discovered this truth a new reality was born for me. I have replaced the agreements I had with fear with new agreements with Love. I have replaced the agreements I had with anger with new agreements with joy. I have replaced the agreements I had with judgment with agreements with peace. Mostly, I have replaced agreements I had with death with new agreements I have with life. Amazing, huh? I have begun asking the questions correctly. I used to pray that I could become a writer. Now, I write. A prayer never once put a moment of inspiration through my fingers onto paper, actually typing them did. An agreement I had with a dream has been replaced with a new agreement I have with action. I have replaced asking with action and expecting with doing and have found a great new world in front of me.
Now, the goose bumps have subsided, and I can return to the rest of my passion-filled day. See, prayer may not get inspiration from fingers to paper, but it does get inspiration from Source to fingers. Prayer in itself is a question. Meditation is, after all, an action. The Universe always says “YES” to both, and anytime we believe it has failed what really has failed is our perception of what we have asked or what we have done. The Universe never fails, ever.
Be well, and prosper my dear friends. It’s all up to YOU.
Peace. ☮ ©2011 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ
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