At the beginning of December, I stopped writing poems. I did so to step back from a layer of ego and deepen my spiritual practice.
So far this is working for me.
I started my poem-a-day practice 12 years ago. Since then I have published over 3800 poems on my blog, and published ten books of poetry. I found the practice served to increase my perception and focus my honesty. The almost daily poems provide a chronicle of my life journey and learnings through that time. And I love writing poetry!
During this period when I am not writing, I encourage you to use the search feature of my blog to find poems of interest, or explore the chain of related poems as curated by Wordpress at the bottom of each poem.. As always, I love to hear from you - I receive notification when you comment on my poems, and will respond. Or you can send me email at wmulhern@gmail.com
I wish you all a beautiful unfolding of your spiritual journey, and a growing love for the nature that accompanies us and the people that deepen us -
We, too, are woveninto the tapestry of sky, of trees, of clouds and oceans
Our being can't fall off or fall away, or fail to fill its place of purpose and fruition
So I serenely settle, supremely integrated into the warp and weft, my glory planned from the very outset - what I am, and all my destiny, securely worked and safe within the whole.
After the whirlwind engagement, the kiss of possibility, we wait to settle down - we float in that unweighted space achieved through swift acceleration and release - a practice place for astronauts and anyone who needs to feel no gravity - anyone who needs to learn a realignment independent of the forces of other fervent orbits
Anyone who yearns to move in concert with the whole, recenter to the source that tunes us all.
I walk myself back from the edge (or tell myself to) before I throw my hopes down on something that could never hold them, before constructing a set of cautions which themselves are anyway already over the edge
I put myself back (or remind myself to dwell) where light falls lightly as light upon my scenes, illustrating and establishing what is real
So I avoid a heavy handed projection, avoid an expectation, avoid interpretation of what simply is - the evidence of present care and nothing less, the everpresent touch of tenderness.
So much to give thanks for, silently expressed, as in the glow of moonlight, and its shadow, across the porch, the mute shining of the fields beyond
I can't even list all the good things - this gratitude is for the presence that lies along perception, sudden significance of every smallest thing, the Love that wraps them, regardless of their form, in their own incomparable truth.