Peace on Earth

As long as we are at war within ourselves,

How can there be peace on Earth?

As long as we are driven by desires and fears,

How can there be peace on Earth?

As long as we are seduced by the trappings of fame and gain,

How can there be peace on Earth?

As long as we postpone living to pursue some imagined goal,

How can there be peace on Earth?

 

As long as we serve the future as a debt to the past,

As long as we divide ourselves into myriad tribes,

Through jealousy and pride,

We set ourselves above or below and deny the enemy inside.

 

As long as we describe our world only in terms

Of battles won and lost,

And teach our children how to blame and punish,

Without explaining the cost.

 

We will always be at war within ourselves.

There will not be peace on Earth.

Uprising

First you notice the oppression of the state

And its partner, the man-made God;

Then you see the oppression of lovers, friends and family;

Finally you see the oppression of the self;

The crushing censorship of the conscious mind,

Denying the all-encompassing vitality of the Great Unconscious;

The attachment to opinions that makes others your enemy,

And you know that given the space and freedom to express itself,

This being that you once called your self,

Would be nothing less than the Universal dance of Love,

The Anarchy of the true God,

The moment,

                Being

                                In

                                                Time.

 

Conversely, when it all goes wrong,

The mirror tells you,

First to blame others,

Then to blame the world,

And finally to blame yourself,

Until you realise,

That no one is to blame

For the nature of existence.

 

What began as the state of the Universe,

Is manifest as a state of mind,

Until it recognises once again,

Its own birth and the fact that it was never born.

 

On the cliff edge,

I have a sense that if I jump,

I will be pulled up by the sky,

And if I do not jump,

I will be pulled down by the earth.

Reaching out to pick a bilberry,

I know I will fall,

But the sweetness fills my entire being,

And sustains me in rapture,

As my other self walks away from the cliff in fear.

 

And then we merge,

And I know that from now on,

It will not be fear that makes me step back,

But the lingering sweetness of a berry that all have tasted.

The Way of the Path-seeker.

When I lay a paving stone I am not thinking about the path I am making, but only about laying that stone. I put all my attention into the task at hand and put my best effort into it. This stone will be stable, level with both the ground and the adjacent stone, with just the right sized gap around it. I take care of my body while I lift and move it and I take care of the stone while dropping it gently into place. I am unhurried. I gently smooth out the sand, tending to any lumps and ridges with my bare hands and I notice they are very skilled at this. Then I make allowances for any uneven thickness in the underside of the stone, so that every bit of it is resting, supported on the bed I have made for it. In this way, laying a stone today is always building a good path for a good tomorrow. And when tomorrow has become today and the path is finished, I do not try to keep the path only for myself, but take pleasure in watching others enjoy it, perhaps even a lizard enjoying its heat in the sun. If I notice an ant trail crossing it, if possible I will seek out their nest and rebuild the path around it, because in reality, everything we do, we do for all beings. When the path is truly completed, then it is time to carry out the next task in exactly the same manner. In this way, the Way of the path-seeker is the way of the path-builder.

I Will Look For You

For a very dear friend who died two days ago

My dear friend, Josie.
I will look for you wherever sunshine hides itself away,
And wherever smiles and laughter play.
And I know I will find you
In every leaf and glowing fire.
In the blackest coal and the brightest flower.
In Picasso’s blue and Vincent’s yellow.
In the still life of a fruit bowl
And the sweet song of Bach’s cello.

And in the pebble I picked on the beach for you,
A stone letter from the East.
In it I see the sparkle of your eyes,
And the white light of peace.
Soon I will place it close to where you lie,
Where you can read it still.
And I will lie on the Earth and feel its drumbeat.
I will smell the soil and touch the feet,
Of all who have passed before.
And then, reaching up to the sky,
I will give thanks for the Greatest Gift
Which you enjoyed so graciously,
Until the last,
And know you are alive in me
And the world is still changing constantly,
Because of you.

Boundless love xxx

Even more on truth

There is a grain of truth in every opinion,

and a bucket of lies in every tiny white lie.

Like a rolling snowball, they accumulate and stick,

and as the ball grows, it becomes distorted.

Unfortunately, truths also grow distorted,

and are soon obscured,

engulfed in the fog of misperception,

which descends upon them.

Though the light may be piercing,

still they fade,

becoming harder and harder to find

and harder still to define.