Change…

“A great wind, we say, has come to this plane. You may hide from the wind, you may be carried by the wind, you may glory as the wind strips your clothes from you and leaves you exposed in your own relishing of truth. You can stand by and hold the nearest flagpole and assume your government will protect you from change. Everything will change because everything does. Your idea of safety has always been the known, but we promise you the new, if claimed in true accord, will be far better than what you have agreed to thus far.”
― Paul Selig
from The Book of Freedom, A Channeled Text

Even when we think nothing has changed….
the stars still seem to be in motion,
and the tides still ebb and flow…

the seasons change
we are blown in every direction…

our beings age and grow,
and the expansion of our hearts
removes the husk….
it hurts!

suffering brings forth awakening,
and compassion is emblazoned into our souls…

there is a presence at the turning of the tides,
holding the particles of sand
and letting them fall…

peace transcends the shoreline
as the watchman hold vigils
calling for the gathering
of hearts
to transform the earth
and awaken the sleeper…

we are saturated in grace,
though we drink from the cup of sorrow…

we eat at the table of forgiveness,
for we are beloved beyond the narration of who we think we are,
or who we think we ought to be…

and when the winds of change come
and movement becomes fluorescent,
and in true accord,
our tears will be wiped away
in the twinkling of an eye…

To my dear old Dad…

“Imagination is more important than knowledge. For knowledge is limited to all  we know and understand, while imagination embraces the entire world, and all there will ever be to know and understand.”
― Albert Einstein

I don’t really know for sure what my Father wanted me to be exactly, it was something in the line of Doctor or Engineer, it definitely wasn’t a poet or a dreamer. In some of his tipsy tirades, he would tell me he would love me more if I was successful, and to him, success meant having a degree or a doctorate or some kind of scholarly credentials. Being a rebel and a dreamy earthling, this didn’t resonate with me at all.

He would make me sit with him for hours while he fixed the washing machine and I had to memorize all the tiny parts. Maybe I was more of a *“handlanger” than anything else, but his plan was to inspire me to become an engineer like him. Having the ability to daydream while in a serious conversation with anyone has held me in very good stead over the years. It is actually one of my superpowers. Thanks to my Dad I became quite accomplished at not listening while pretending to.

I was born into a family of achievers, but secretly I never had much ambition. I preferred to watch plants grow, play with my pets, dress up, and pick flowers than get all serious and intellectual.
To my Dad, this was a weakness, and I often wondered if he loved me, because I actually failed his admission test. It bothered me for years and I grew up feeling highly inadequate, hiding in shadows so that no one would ask me what I do, too embarrassed to pronounce my occupation.

Perhaps my Dad knows now that I did become a Doctor and an Engineer, not the kind who stands up on podiums with a cape and hat being handed an award, but one who can diagnose humans and broken washing machines just by the noise they make. I’m not a specialist though, so I’m not afraid to refer them to experts in their field if need be.

So perhaps on earth, I disappointed my Father by being a dreamer, but in heaven, it could be quite a high achievement. Don’t get me wrong I’m in awe of people who build bridges, educate children, wangle numbers and fix bodies, but it seems they are defined by those things.

Recently a friend told me that her husband looks just like the accountant he is, and proudly so. It got me to thinking about what I look like, what defines me.
Do we all dress, walk, speak like our earthly careers, and what happens when our lifetime achievements get pulled from under us?

My Dad was an Electrical engineer, he should have looked like Albert Einstein with a shock of hair on top of his head. Instead, he looked like an old git in a safari suit.
Maybe he didn’t care back then like we do now. So much has changed. Who wants to look like a schoolmarm anyway?

People don’t ask me anymore what I do, perhaps it’s my age or perhaps I throw off a “don’t ask me” vibe. I’m disappointed though, I want to be asked….and this is what I’ll tell them. I’m a light-bearer on my 100th or so cycle through the earth. I’ve been all of the above and on this my hopefully last cycle I don’t need to be anyone. Actually, being a nobody is quite enough for me right now!
Is it just a pipe dream that I can discard these robes of ego?

Thanks to my Dad who came to make me feel very small and inadequate about myself while he was here, I learned to see other earthlings as vulnerable holders of light. To see through their façades right into their beautiful essence. Another superpower I hope to be proud of someday. He actually did me a favor…

We are spirits taking on a human experience, sometimes overwhelmed by the need to fit in or stick out, whichever fits. My recommendations always are watching more sunsets, smelling more flowers, sitting and doing nothing for as long as the mind will allow, and getting in touch with the incredibly beautiful beings that we are. If that ain’t a career, I don’t know what is!!
Ok well, I don’t get paid for it but every flower and dandelion appreciates the attention, and perhaps my reward will be in heaven after all….

If we really believed that we are all in this together and that we have been both peasant and king, and everything in between, wouldn’t we be singing along with the Beetles… “all we need is love”?

and thanks also to Albert Einstein for making me believe in the importance of imagination…

*“handlanger”- Gofer

 

Stained manuscripts…

This poem started off as a journey of grief and how many things I don’t say because of shame. It turned into an understanding of the people who have suffered brutality for so long and have not been heard…
Perhaps it’s even similar to grief…

dedicated to my son Stevie, who always stood on the side of the oppressed and downtrodden…

There are volumes
too harsh
to be written down,
memories too brutal
to become unbound…

utterances confined to padlocked crypts,
expired ambitions
and stained manuscripts…

Songs that remain forever unsung,
hopes interred before they’d begun…

There are confessions
only shared
with confidants,
flashbacks
and terrors
of a macabre dance…

Unpublished dreams in secret vaults,
feelings
and testimonies
and unsaid thoughts…

And grief’s exposure is where sorrow lies,
in albums of tears
where the brave arise…

These are events that change the world
burned into the flesh
of fearless souls…

And hope still floats in the in-between
as love moves forward in living streams…

#blacklivesmatter
©AllysoAlly2020

Returning…

Words had dried up in me
scorching my mind
like a relentless drought
sweeping over me,
slumbering,
awaiting ascension…

I held my breath
with brittle confidence
and called out
to higher journeys…

In darkness
where the moon and the planets align
in ever-watchful
expressions
of grace,
I remembered
providence
and the intercession of the saints…

Uncertainty had run unbridled through the ravaged parts of my mind…

I’ve thrown the bones,
lived in seas of sorrow,
lain on beds of despair,
and inhaled the agony of living…

Now as I huff and puff
in meadows
where wishes rise
like fragile pods
of prayer
sent heavenwards
to fall
to earth
revitalized
by faith,
the unborn seeds
of hope
bury themselves anew
in me…

I’ve allowed
these imprisoned words
to spill out, over pages and pages of parched lands
as they quench me,
even immerse me
in baptisms of fire,
cracking open
these pods of unbelief…

I will return to the creed that once wrote my story, long before I came to earth…

©AllysoAlly2020

 

Consulting flowers…

“it is a serious thing just to be alive on this fresh morning in this broken world.”
― Mary Oliver

Words get said,
rumors leak,
I’m so tired
of double-speak…
can we trust
this state of mind,
when the truth
is so hard to find?
I’d much rather
consult the flowers,
be enthralled
by their superpowers…
let sunlight filter
through my lens,
while I unfollow popular trends…

©AllysoAlly2020

Be love…

Would you become a pilgrim on the road to love?
the first condition is that you make yourself as humble as dust and ashes….
― Mawlana Jalal-al-Din Rumi

There are many opinions
they differ
do not let them divide you
that is what they want
so that they can rule you,
because you will fight each other
and they must come like parents
and separate you…

Be always united in love
that is the key to our survival on this planet…
Let your differences go
be one with the glory and the bounty
of everything
of nature
of the cosmos…

Did the bee say to the flower
your colors are all off
you are too spikey
your fragrance is lacking
no, he loved her anyway…

Share what you have with others
for your things are merely on loan to you
for the short time you have here…
And while you are here
let your light shine,
though mists may come up and startle you
and seek to separate you
keep shining
and you will spill through the mists
like a wondrous glow…

See light in every human
words must not separate you
for only God knows all things…
Do you know the truth of everything?
Have you got proof?
Each opinion matters in the scheme
of all things,
if our opinions are tempered by love
they become a medley of conversations
a coming together to understand better
to solve the suffering in this world…

Who knows for sure what is right?
we have been deceived for so long by the powers that be!

Be silent in the knowing
be peace and love always…
If hatred divides, it is wrong
for love is the answer to all things…
Be love
be love
be love
I cannot emphasize it enough!

I have searched for love my whole life
and where do you think I found it?
not on the tongues of the oppressors
or in the minds of right-fighters
but In rooms where desperate people meet
on the streets with outcasts,
among the brokenhearted,
from the mouths of babes,
and in the eyes of the wounded….

I have found love in unassuming fellowships of light….

People don’t let our opinions divide us!
For it is true that love is patient and kind
it does not envy
it does not boast
it does not dishonor others
it is not self-seeking
it is not easily angered
it keeps no record of wrongs
love does not delight in evil
but rejoices in the truth
it always protects
always trusts
always hopes
always perseveres
for love NEVER FAILS…
1 Corinthians 13 v 1-8

Tattoo these things on your heart…

Thinking out loud…

‘Keep some room in your heart for the unimaginable.’
~Mary Oliver

Search for fields
of dandelions,
wish upon shooting stars…

imbibe the splendor
of the night skies
write secret memoirs…

Be gentle
with each earthling
learn someone else’s creed…

Slow dance
with your best friend,
notice those who are in need…

Hold tea parties in the forest,
don’t be too rushed,

never force
your opinions,
allow offense to turn to dust…

Dress up if it pleases you,
question every fad,

let music be your inspiration,
weep when you are sad…

See light in every human,
encourage those
who go astray,

Keep your judgments
in check,
as kindness finds its way…

be tender with the downcast,
hold truth in awe,

learn the blessings
of forgiveness,
make love your only law!

bejewel yourself
with nature,
let compassion
be your guide,

with thanksgiving
and wonder
be quietly satisfied…

©AllysoAlly2020

I lost the plot…

Day 13…

“I align to truth. I know myself in the vibration of truth. And I permit the vibration of truth to heal me of all lies.”
― Paul Selig, The Book of Truth: The Mastery Trilogy: Book II

I’ve given up
thrown in the towel
let it go
taken a bow,
on trying to be what I am not,
in fragmented notions
I lost the plot…

It’s like a groove that cuts so deep,
it’s like a river that was a creek…

I’ve conceded to realms
of just being,
locations of intuitive seeing…

I’m rewriting the narrative of my life
seeking out what is wholly divine…

Listening to my inner voice
feeling the silence
secretly rejoice…

What wounds are buried in my memories,
what veiled impressions
have gone unseen…

The scars are lasting
the pain is real
in natural light
love is revealed….

©AllysoAlly2020

 

Be!…

It’s a time of reflection
and grace,
a time to look fear
in its face…

Time to know
your inner worth,
time to love
the abundant earth…

Don’t lock away
your dreams,
allow your sacred sunlight
to stream…

Be the peace
that
passes understanding,
Let it rise
Be undemanding…

Hold onto
the strength of faith,
as it fills you,
gently bathe
in the glory
of what is to come,
fragrant vessels
fully one…

kindness is a
holy password,
sealed with gratitude
be alert…

Live your dreams
not your fears,
as the universe
changes gears…

©AllysoAlly2020

Bone china teacups…

“I am pure light, not just a fistful of clay. The shell is not me. I came as the royal pearl within. Look at me not with outward eye, but with inward vision of the heart; Follow me there and see how unencumbered we become”…
― Mawlana Jalal-al-Din Rumi

It’s been a grueling affair,
trying to be someone
I’m not,
holding my tongue…
I quietly explode
in this kind of pomposity,
when my voice is drowned out
by meaningless rhetoric.

I was always a nobody,
a dreamer,
and nothing has changed!

There are no achievements
to brag about,
no new additions to show off…

Just the dull ache of life,
the one foot in front of the other
kind of scenario,
a life needing only to be endured…

Like the last breath of sacred air
having confession…

The plagues have taken me
to dark places,
eaten me alive.

I’ve fallen
into a slow decline,
and a longing to be expunged
from the earth.

I’m a prosaic narrative of the “waking dead”…

But when I change direction,
I swing into timeless zones
places where apparitions comb the darkness
and light-filled souls hold me,
speaking only in dialects of kindness…

I’m comfortable there,
singing my anthems,
talking to ghosts.

I don’t need approval,
just the serenity of being,
to have sunlight by day
and starlight by night…

bone China teacups don’t make me feel stronger,
they are just pieces
that gather dust in the silence,
mere frivolities to collect
and be admired by few…

representations of such fragility that I cannot bear to hold…

I wondered then
if you hear me
above
your own thoughts,
or see me through your impressions?

I felt diminished,
unstable,
defective,
groundless in my own being
conversant
with dysfunction…

But I’m weary now,
weary of the pretense…

I could tell you so much,
if only you put aside your preconceptions.
I could show you the brutality
that broke me open,
that tore the flesh
from my bones…

giving me visions of another world…

I could also tell you of bravery,
of seeing
of believing in magic.
I could take you to a place where the dead are alive,
and the veil is lifted…

a place of signs and wonders,
unimaginable colors,
vibrations of love,
no talk of death…

Just magical vistas as far as the eye can see…

Mystics tell of these cosmic landscapes
and I believe them…

But I’m just the dull little girl that you remember,
the underachiever
and I can’t seem to change the voice
on the self-drive…

I’ve needed your approval for way too long,
longer than any life could bear…

So if you find me silent,
almost withdrawn,
it’s because I’m protecting my heart
from the savagery of my own thoughts…

You see I’m scarred and bloody
in need of belonging,
and maybe a vacation…

I’m made of stardust and the boundlessness of light,
just like you!!

©AllysoAlly2019