A page from the biking philosopher's notebook

- for Jennifer

As it is written

In the paws of a dog

In the sudden life arc of a spider

Things come to being out of thought:

From the imperative of their intent 

They come to life

Stretch forth in being what they are

Without a thought of being something else

And everything about them—form and function

(As paws that twitch and dream of running, digging)

Enacts that impulse which has brought them forth

And brings them forth again in every moment.

In the ephemera we call this life

Where things and plans dissolve so fast

Like dreams

Some thought that runs

Much deeper than our conscious mind

Calls forth a force

More steadfast than it seems

That orients our being to its course

Aligns our lives with our desires

And pulses us through underlying pattern

Our hands, our thoughts, and everything we are.

©Wendy Mulhern

August 11, 2011

Soulmate

Who is that who stands beside you

Close as sunshine on your arm

Leaning into you in sweet connection

Blending strength into your strength?

Who is that with whom you whisper

Heads leaning in, touching in support

And easy closeness—who is your companion?

As present as your smile, your voice

Who is this love, and have you even met

And do you know that you don’t walk alone?

That every step you take is harmonized

By this essential presence—bone of your bone?

©Wendy Mulhern

August 10, 2011

Tonight the moon

Tonight the moon

Rules the waters from the east

Royal pathway spread from shore to shore

While to the west

The clouds with heads like trees

Or bears

Nod and whisper to each other

Surveying the approaching dark.

©Wendy Mulhern

August 10, 2011

True Summer

These are the sounds of summer night

Served up in velvet warmth:

The braided rise and fall of cricket song, cicadas

The murmur of the wind, and water rolling

A clink of masts, a roar of distant traffic

The chatter of an isolated bird.

This is the feel of summer night

So full - 

My heart as sensitized as surface skin

A welling up of some sweet inner yearning

Awakened pull of tides within.

©Wendy Mulhern

August 9, 2011

True Stories

No story is the truth

but there are true stories

If story is the arc on which you fly

some will launch you clean and true

and where you sail

will be the place you feel

the rising up of what you are

to meet the opportunity

the awesome, scary challenge

calling forth your deep integrity

A story that is true

will keep on ringing

with fractal echos still reverberating

the rightness of the patterns it’s creating

affirming you

forever reinstating

what you have always been

and now shall be

A story that is true

will set you free.

©Wendy Mulhern

August 7, 2011

A true story

No story is the truth

but there are true stories

and this is one:

(it could be said the story is the frame)

This is the one in which

I own my name

move strongly in the archetypal power

where all particulars of who I am

can flower

with no apology, no shame

Like wings unfolding

once a chrysalis has split

They stretch and take in substance

from the sun and air

They multiply and reach

their shape still undefined

their ribs still forming

their planes coming aligned

Their strength now building

They soon will show

their bright resplendency

With opalescent glow 

they’ll carry me

No story is the truth

but here’s a true story:

To own my name

delivers me a new glory.

©Wendy Mulhern

August 6, 2011

Enough

I don’t need your story

Your explanations of

The way you are

And why

And what it means

In terms of what you’ll be

I don’t need your stuff —

Self-constructed reasons

Phobias, reactions

I don’t need confessions

Pried with pain

From where you have them clenched

The miracle of who you are

Is enough.

©Wendy Mulhern

August 5, 2011