Andrea Gibson

"A doctor once told me I feel too much

I said, 'So does God'

That's why you can see the Grand Canyon from the moon"

"The Gate" by Marie Howe

All Things Emanate Power

Do not be so foolish to think

there is something to control

power does not grasp, plead, nor argue

the sky does not convince day of night

heaven is and heaven knows

the mastery of self sits here alone

in the truest form born from majesty radiates

a trembling design from infancy

who grows from dignity unfettered and sublime

the noblest act is to not have an act

an artist does not control the brush, he regulates his own gestures

a leader does not control her followers, her self-discipline commands respect

all things emanate from the creator
be centered on that one.

Your Genesis

No human being has accosted the breeze. The walls of a chamber teach one what is free. Do not be seduced to wander the halls of deception for answers, for no answer is born from distrust. Realize the bounty of your own genesis. Be carried by the breeze. Listen to that magical sound-that one that carries you.

I Come to You Empty

I come to you empty

Did I think that I was no longer worthy?

Has this broken spirit cursed you?

The beacon of innocence cracked from the weight of the dark majority

Has faded from view

I once came to you out of longing

I once came to you in need

I once came to you for healing

Now, no pleasure nor sorrow succeed

The beacon no longer a focal

For the temptation for light does flee

In the presence of greater and greater humility,
I now concede; I see you in everything.

The Inner Landscape of Beauty-John O'Donohue On Being with Krista Tippett

http://www.onbeing.org/program/inner-landscape-beauty/203

Cheers to the late and great John O'Donohue.

Walk with me to the center of the clock where time stands still and the world rotates around us. There is a kindness in suspending the past and future. We revolt against the antagonism of the unknown and revel in the extraordinary sensation of being-drawing forth our presence not from earlier nor later, rather, from the unmistakable mystery of the soul.

Prayer for Your Enemy

My heart.  I ask that I learn how to pray for my enemy.  Send me words of redemption.

May I learn to respect your humanity when confronted with pain.  Let my heart break.  Allow my heart's contents to empty into rivers that carry them away. May these tender scars remind me of the contours of the sacred. What is sacred?  What is sacred is that I may heal-that my innocence remains uncorrupted when violated. Our innocence does not have to die but strengthen discernment.

Darkness earns its rewards through deception. The psychologically aimless is vulnerable to the contagions of disease and betrayal.  May I persistently turn my attention towards my wholeness and dwell in the revelation of truth. That which is true never harms in retaliation. That which is true is merciful. That which is true has no reason to hide or to feel shameful. That which is true reveals the sinews of human folly weaving humanity together into an evolutionary body. What is true is what is in you is in me, too.  To err is to assume sanctimonious distinctions.

Remove this rage, this disbelief. May the disquiet awaken unexpected forces of good. May this ache to repair the other find its authentic possession; and, that is the ache to restore my soul. For all aspects of life must be purged from the disciple in order to deepen their wisdom.

May I direct my attention with penetrating intelligence towards the liberatory genius of transcendent thought.  Uplift me from the despairs and disrepairs of the past.  May the wings of possibility beat fervently, raising me into the realms of mystical perception-where the roadways of our lives cross, where the fertile farmlands run snuggly into each other like puzzle pieces, and where the picture broadens into a life story.  Profundity eclipses these tiny fractures in time, where the presence of the absolute arises bubbling into the ever-present "a-ha" of my true identity. With every breath another false attachment exhales my body. This truth is what breathes me; this truth is what breathes you.

May this quiet moment of forgiveness liberate us both. I release you again and again and again.  I release you.  When I say, "thank you" these words sincerely brush my lips, for I have learned that I am still capable of wanting to return harm unto another-that I can lose myself in the pain-and that the darkness can eclipse my light. You have redirected me to my light in some strange way.

Blessed be your beautiful life.

When Still

When the spirit is still, there is no war
Your anxious body melts into holiness
From within, the entanglement unwinds itself slowly

Does our nature seek and admire adroit force?
Do we appreciate banging our heads against Berlin walls?

There is no need for native tongue
I can feel you
Your story moves through me like a breeze
I understand more than you would care to share

You are more vulnerable when you hold your gun
Your weariness carries your shoulders with discipline
Your aching body so resolute
How tired your soul must be


There is nothing here my friend
There is no war to fight
I am empty and you point your gun
Steady my way
You created an enemy
Your soul must be so tired.

War

War is a desperate attempt at unification.

The Simplest Things

Enter the joker juggling

Mystifying gravity

Particles pounding feverishly in sweaty palms

Chasing one another

Activity building and building upon one ball after another

The joker plays with the art of surrender

Letting go of this one whilst catching the other

The joker makes an art form out of gravity

A drop of water never stops midair to ask, “Where is the ocean?”

The drop drips freely, liberated by the very act

Compelled to follow gravity’s lead

As selflessly as its identity expels

Merges with ease

A collection of give give give give give

To be sanctimonious is to snivel at drops

Miscalculating the force of the collective

Therefore, a humble person finds their greatest power

In the simplest things
They recognize who they are.

The Joy

The joy of letting go of joy is the goal of joy.

Into the Depths of Your Stillness

The quiet deep I sink. Submerged. Cupped within the weightless, I am held. Talk to me. Talk to me. I am finally listening. Make your presence known. Take me down deep into the reason you gave me life.  Take me deep. I am here now. Let it unfold. It won't happen in an hour, and it won't happen in a day.

Take me down deep into the reason you gave me life. Reveal yourself in the nature of my dreams. May my days be colored by the qualities of my soul.  I am listening to the radiance. I am resting in this grand stillness so that I may hear these truths.

Grant that through my errors there is a humbleness that opens a secret passageway into the absolute intimacy of my heart, where through the pulse of creation I am renewed.  Grant that through times of great loss I shall not seek within emptiness, but sink into emptiness-such loss less gravity to pull. Peeling layers of nakedness, my essence is weightless the more you remove. May I honor you; may I remember you in all ways. 

Liberation

The face of truth reflects from thousands of mirrors

The truth licks like flames and then disappears

Similar are our actions of spontaneous emissions

Wisdom speaks through the sun’s tongues

The reverent ignite in unison

The liberation begins and spreads

The liberation ends when what is to be liberated from is dead.