Lessons

We are apprentices

to the master ocean

and the master rock shore

performing their dance

in this moment

and in geologic time

The rock turns the water

The water carves the rock

One thunderous curl at a time

While the rock trains it

in swirling, curving arcs

And every move they do is beautiful

The swishes and the swift, explosive leaps

The whirlpools and the rolling falling back

The graceful movement of the currents

rendered still in caves and crevices of rock

We watch, we feel, we are filled

Leap with this power, are carved

by its insistent roar

Find ourselves deepening

opening out

Learning the logic of waves.

©Wendy Mulhern

September 30, 2012

Ocean

Our union was like

Ocean . . .

Ebullient waves coming

in and in and in

Flipped and turned by rocks, diverting

Cross waves rolling in on top of others

Circling, turning

Flowing back, down and down and down

into the place they meet

the flow of other waves

Fold on fold of froth, pristine and soft

Each one in its time, none in a hurry

Time to find each crevice in the rocks

Time to curl around inside them

Time to flow like waterfalls returning

On and on until the next wave’s crash

White spumes leaping

Water heaving, churning

Our breathing and our flowing 

was like that ocean —

So many separate infinities

crossing one another in a timeless rhythm

So much life, such presence

Such imperative of motion

A place we shall return

time and again.

©Wendy Mulhern

September 30, 2012

Returning

There is evidence of kindness everywhere

In the undercurrents of life

the breathing and the circulation

the giving and receiving

the ebbing and the flowing

providing every need

There is kindness in the stillness of the stars

and in the waxing moon

and in the season’s turning

Soft fall of darkness

and the leaves’ returning

to the earth

Everything that sets out

comes home sometime

As sure as breath

As sure as tides

It finds its place

in the matrix of kindness

It finds its welcome

rejoins its own.

©Wendy Mulhern

September 28, 2012

Shell

This gift was forged

In the inimitable act of life

Nothing but life’s intense volition

could bend its forces to such structure,

craft this compact, spiraling container

to fit so neatly in the currents that surround it

Only the imperative of life

could call this genius forth

impel the mastery of this design;

Though it is tossed here empty

we see it still

calling us to wonder:

Long after life has left it

the impress of life’s essence stays.

©Wendy Mulhern

September 27, 2012

Kin

Kin fits in skin

Within my ken

With what I can

Those of my home

My folk, my clan

It’s what I know

It’s what I am

Kin kindles kindliness

My kind, like-mindedness

Conscious connectedness

Seeking and finding

So may my circle

Contain all the cosmos

Its sphere as my realm

And its oneness my center

As large as awareness

As cozy as kinship

Here in sweet presence

Skin-intimate

Soul.

©Wendy Mulhern

September 26, 2012

Thirty Years

(To Edward)

Thirty years

and we are like

the newlyweds we seemed to be

back then

when hope stretched out across the span

of inexperience

Excitement for the joining 

and the journey

fueled those early times

Propelled us through 

the doubts and disappointments

In some ways

our love has grown quietly

like the pine beside our front door

from its sapling start to where

it towers above the house

It didn’t happen in one day

but after time

it stood as if it always had been there

Inimitable sign of long duration

In other ways

our life has brought our love 

through metamorphosis

The eager feeding of those early years

replaced by quiet inwardness

(though still the growth continued)

Till now

when in these bright monarch days

Our love has re-emerged

its colors shimmering

We feel it flexing

strong brilliant wings to lift us

to new vision.

©Wendy Mulhern

September 25, 2012

Whole

Everything is holy —

Fine veins along the backs of fallen leaves

The scent of fall they silently release

The light that paints in stripes and shapes

Familial closeness in a grove of trees

Every cell is holy

Each one integrated, each aware

Each breathing in this moment’s dance of knowing

Imparting, down the networks of its joining

the never-interrupted arc of care

Every breath is holy

Braiding, in its cyclical alignment

connection to the deep, pure heart of being

Each curls in currents 

that thrill me alive

And every entwining 

can serve to remind me to

Find the flow of it

Not let go of it

Not let go of it

till I’m whole

Find the flow of it

Not let go of it

Not let go of it

till I’m whole.

©Wendy Mulhern

September 24, 2012

Growing New

We made the choice

And where we could have called ourselves

Bundles of opinions

Past experiences, scars

Perspectives narrowed 

through the jarring course of years

Piles of restrictions growing larger daily

Needing soft accommodation for their weight

Instead we have decided on this:

To serve whatever is alive in us

To always focus on what’s growing

Leaving, rigorously, everything that’s dead behind —

opinions, patterns, prejudice —

And learning, every day

to be more supple

Should it then come as a surprise

to see our love so shining?

So new, so eager, so alive —

with grace and bliss entwining.

©Wendy Mulhern

September 22, 2012

Fall Equinox, Home

My house is cozy

The warmth and the light of it

And the people in it

Our comings and goings

The comfort we give one another

My house is cozy

As the days retreat toward darkness

and the clouds close in

and the house sounds gather

behind closed windows

that muffle the ones outside

It’s a kindly enclosure

Softness and color

Sweetness and sustenance

Loving arms circling

each gift we each bring

All of our rays in concave concentration

magnify richness of home.

©Wendy Mulhern

September 21, 2012

You, always

The miracle of you

has always gleamed— 

Bright dash of grace and harmony

Invoking angels’ gratitude

And who you are

has always been

as deeply loved

as buds forming

deep within protective casings

deep within the Principle

in which they curl

and in the Love that orchestrates their unfurling

As deeply loved as baby birds

And the care they call forth

in their attentive parents

who may not know why

but certainly know their calling

And who you are

is hedged about

as tenderly

as night’s soft shade

encloses coming seasons

and day’s clear dawn

reveals the seasons’ coming

And who you are

can never be denied

For you were made

with such great joy

And you are celebrated

with such sweet pride.

©Wendy Mulhern

September 20, 2012

Tantrum in my mind

There had been a collision

There was trauma — of the peanut-butter-in-hair sort

There was whining and stamping of feet

and one who had retreated 

to a closet to cry

(with occasional backward glance

scanning for audience)

and one who was screaming

and one gnashing teeth

And the drama

distracted the onlookers

from the fact

that what was being asked

was not that hard

and patience was possible

and a good bike ride

putting miles between

the problem and the one who was

refusing to think

could be enough

to reset the scene.

©Wendy Mulhern

September 19, 2012

Out of the prison

If we allow one prison

We are all in its clutches:

The threads from that one knot

in the system

Spread into the fabric

of everything we do

We know

that if we fail to toe the line, we too can fall

into the place where even the least decisions

are denied us

So we deny

in little ways

our own decisions

We let fear

do the deciding for us

Let those subtle shackles

creep around our ankles

till we’re caught

If there is a freedom

A place as small as a walnut

we discover in our hearts

to hold our soul

In that contained infinity

It can fly

Can gather energy

Can be, without becoming

in a place with no confinement

where no prison can restrict it

And so we

Delivered from the tyranny of prisons

can be free.

©Wendy Mulhern

September 18, 2012

Nourishment

In the face of everything

we’ve been fed

Empty, deadening, toxic

I still affirm

We can know what feeds us

Despite the false choices

with which we’re inundated day by day

the cheap vulgarization of our triggers

the sea of trash that can’t be thrown away

I still affirm

We can know what we want

And though the words of love

have been so thoroughly misused

applied to tiny wicked shards

that cut us as they shine

made to divide us

where love most wishes to unite

We still will find

Inside, we know what love is

And it outweighs all the lies

And everyone who’s tasted love must give it

And in the giving, it will grow

Till more and more of us can truly live it

And every need will be well fed

in its bright glow.

©Wendy Mulhern

September 17. 2012

Regarding Hunger

No, really —

Who am I to write about hunger?

— I who have never been more than eight hours

without access to food?

Who am I to write about hunger?

— I who have always had time to search

for my soul’s fulfillment?

I can only say

There is a kind of hunger

that doesn’t go away

from having my belly full

There is a kind 

that grows in strength the more I feed it

And there’s a kind of satisfaction

that flies along at the exact place of its hunger

Soars in comfort

Meeting the edge before it cuts

Carving its curve again and again

like a cresting wave

Drawing a fine calligraphic line

across the page of days

Filling up my heart until it bursts

Warbling praise.

©Wendy Mulhern

September 16, 2012

Currents

Sometimes I think

these currents

that run through me

have their own direction

Move along the lines

of some higher physics

Great coursings of 

a cosmic gravity

I neither originated

nor comprehended

till their sweep

pulled me into some deep purpose

drawing me along its will

And if I find that will becomes my own

It’s no surprise —

Such fulfillment,

such subsuming satisfaction

is not a thing that I could manufacture

When it rises

how could I resist?

—Sacred initiation into all that is.

©Wendy Mulhern

September 14, 2012

Our New Story

We never

gave up on each other

Though our messages

between our universes

were so hopelessly distorted

maliciously, meticulously twisted

by forces that knew

our love would blow the sides out

of the boxes that constrained our power

thus destroying every mask of bondage

for us and also anyone who saw us

We never gave up on each other

Though we sometimes walked in silence

of despair from all the times

the message failed

We couldn’t give up on each other

For when you see another’s soul

You are compelled to hold it

Hold to that vision till you see it true

So we held on

till our lights

outshone the lies

and pulled us through.

©Wendy Mulhern

September 13, 2012

Focus

My truth is not betrayed

And though I trade

in things that can’t be seen

I am not fooled

What is not seen

can still be known

I hold my truth

and so I’m not shortchanged

I watched the whirling falling of the maple seeds

I felt the fall of other bits of husk

I saw the leaves, green on layered green

I felt the sun

My love is not betrayed

Though it be not reciprocated

Where my love is made

it will sustain itself

It settles

Finds its focus, finds its home

It falls like rays

It falls like light sifting

Illuminates the scene

and knows its own.

©Wendy Mulhern

September 12, 2012

Keystone

This is our foundation

Octahedral core

Locked together in a structure

that stands firm

holding open

the arches of energy

so great currents

of light

of power

can spiral through

up and down

We stand here strong

Holding it

At one in our service

to the elemental rhythms

At one like the sides of an arch

Our love the keystone.

©Wendy Mulhern

September 11, 2012

Coming Home

My longings set out first

some weeks ago, like clouds

wandering upon some wind

looking for the stream to bring them

where they wished

My thoughts came next

More efficient, they immediately

found themselves home

attended to the things they needed

word empowered, neatly ordered

Finally, my body makes the trek

It’s slow, but it’s learning

It can’t quite fly like longings

or just be there, like thoughts

Today, through flights and waiting

it makes its way

No longer a delicate package

prone to discomfort

which has to be managed

No longer an egg

with liquid insides that get shaken

My body is learning

to stream free in Spirit

to move with the currents

that move all the elements

Not yet proficient at getting there quickly

Still it will find its way home.

©Wendy Mulhern

September 10, 2012

Nothing Shall Offend Them

“Great peace have they that love thy law, and nothing shall offend them.”  - Psalm 119:165

When you love the law of Life

You’re not offended

by Life’s bursting forth

out of all boundaries, all propriety

Loud, seductive, shameless

Always calling for more

When you love the law of Love

You’re not offended

by Love’s wide-armed inclusion

of everyone, everything

Never a need to have status, credentials

competitive edge, pedigree

When you love the law of Truth

You’re so full, each day

with the present dance of being

You have no time to be offended,

your every moment full

of living in the law of good.

©Wendy Mulhern

September 9, 2012

Wind

The wind is blowing

through the trees, through the masts

whipping up the water

It is a constant rush, a varying roar

a restless conversation

White clouds sometimes get spread

before the sun

their shadows swiftly borne

across the land, the water

It has been like this all day

Such power

Effortless, insistent

Pulled by some invisible, compelling urge

Through and through the hours

I know this wind

It’s not infrequently

it blows through me all day

Feeling of constant crescendo

moving me, lulling me,

sweeping me mystical

Bearing me off on a dream.

©Wendy Mulhern

September 8, 2012

Drifting Off

I close my eyes

I turn my sights inside

It’s quiet here, and dark

and undefined

And in the open space

my mind

begins to map

its cryptic pictures on the outward sounds

Before I know it

it has rolled another landscape

across the blank terrain of empty thought

from which then sounds and voices may emerge

And so the dream is woven

and I’m caught

into a world which may enchant,

may teach

Or keep its latent wisdom out of reach.

©Wendy Mulhern

September 7, 2012

Ancient Ways

In my tribe 

the way it was

before the ancient ways were lost

to history, and to other tools

with which we’ve been subverted

In my tribe

each infant soul

was braided with such care

into the stream of all of us

that none was ever dropped or lost

and as it grew

each one learned its vital, pulsing rhythm

and its needed place

how to move strongly in the power of its knowing

how to contribute, how to own its name

So we were all 

united with the magic

and we strode along the elemental forces

and our hands knew how to bring

each fine idea to fruition

and our feet knew how to run the ancient courses

As they will again, as we remember

all the pathways of our common dreams

how to mirror forth our inner splendor

and braid ourselves together in the stream.

©Wendy Mulhern

September 6, 2012

Longing

They are pacing around inside me

though I am not moving;

Though I’m sitting still,

you may see the darting

of some of them

looking out my windows —

My desires

who have nowhere to go

till I get home

And they drove me today

to go stand on the dock

in the warm wind and rain

To dive in and swim

with purposeful strokes

not towards any destination I could reach

They drive me to cram delight

into these last days

They stretch me taut

and strangely brighten

the moments that remain

before our paths bring us together once again.

©Wendy Mulhern

September 5, 2012

Gold

This traffic

And this rain

And this pink-lined GPS

that shows me not moving

and may be telling me a bogus route

Cannot

In any way

obstruct the truth

of who and what and where I am

I am here

in the presence of peace

in the unfolding of Life

which ever takes

every sunlit and rain-drenched shaft of straw

and weaves

shimmering resplendent gold

Gold of liquid joy-filled richness

Gold of fine illumination

Gold of glowing moments and their memories

Lifting lilting luminosity

into all that’s here

Holding it eternal

where we are.

©Wendy Mulhern

September 4, 2012