The Rug

The rug has been lifted
And thrown away
The demons of night
Now seen in day

The Standard We are Not

To hold ourselves to a standard that we are not, a standard we might never possibly attain= ultimate self-violence

I'm all for growth can working towards a more idealized vision of self... but how do we know what that vision of idealized self really is??? How can we tell what is truly attainable??? How does one know what is an authentic version of self? At what point in the path does it become more destructive than creative, when working toward an ideal or vision? I have no clue... I just know that the road of "self-improvement" can actually turn violent and aggressive toward ourselves (and toward others)... Perhaps it depends on How The Road is traveled... With what energy and intention... Perhaps there's the possibility of growth without grasping...

And how can I know when I am running away versus running toward???

Home

Both the beginning and the end of the journey...
To venture away and push against the elements
To reestablish center
Roots expanding
Core thickening...
Until heavens and the deepest recesses of the earth
United on a plane of in-between

Functional Ear Trainer after almost One year.

After a little more than 11 months, I finally got 3 or less wrong... I'm proud of my effort for sticking to something for so long... I'm not sure what will come out of this (if anything)... But I can happily say I actually stuck with something for an extended period of time...

Presence II

With you my being begins to swell
A whirlpool spun to crescendo
My center becomes clear
My axis, my orientation
I understand why I am here
I am here to love...

Presence

With you I feel more present
More of my being
Drawn out
Pulled to the surface
With you... I am more me

Dandelion Seed

Dandelion seed flying high in the sky
Others landing, planting roots
Dandelion seed tantalizingly coming so close
Drifting toward sweet earth
A graze, a touch, a light caress
A Taste...

But the mighty wind gusts
A dizzying swirl takes hold
Tossed into the blinding light of the sun
Until waking up to an infinite sea of blue:
A sight all too familiar
So far
So distant