a story


i am 
are you?

once upon a time there was a story
 
it was a very long, old story
maybe it wasn't even upon a time, it was so old
but we don't really know, because we weren't there

we're intrigued by this story
that we are presumably a part of

very intrigued

we pass a lot of time
thinking about it
wondering how it all started
how we all fit in
and stuff like that

we're not sure if we're the only people who do this
 for we see there are other people all around us

but sometimes we think
that because we think about our story
that makes us different
somehow

well
the more i reflect
i see we've kind of messed it up
by thinking
about thinking about it
too much

and the more we think
the more lines are etched into our faces
as if the words of our thoughts were written along them
like writing on a page

perhaps
over time
our face becomes
a crumpled page of thought

a young face looks clear
theirs is a mind free of thinking
they simply observe and grow
for they already know
the beautiful process
called:

learning

a mind
if you let it
won’t make any lines
you don’t need to leash it
there’s no need to define
for, when you do
there is less of a chance
your mind will show you
its wonderful dance
as it skips
as it soars
it prances
and sings
through a world comprised
of wonderful things
and all of it there
for you to imbibe
for all of it
all of it
in your mind does reside
so why leave things out
and let others in?
ah
because there’s a story
that we must learn to win
follow one path, or another,
when it’s all just the same
if only we let our minds
play their games
we would all be together
one magical whole
and within each mind
a welcome to all



the truth is
we all know our place
in this very long, old story
the moment we are born

i am grateful
that this is so

if you forgot for some reason
and you wish to remember
this may remind you
it's called:

remembering

remember when
you started to grow
the feeling that there
was nowhere to go
for wherever
you were
you were meant
to be
a simple truth
that let you live free
for before
we all knew
as we danced
with the trees
that every moment
is there for us
aware if only
we remember
how to see



but then
there goes by
the passage of time

the most difficult thing to let go
is the way that time passes

but remember
you only need to remember your self

and to remember you must recall
our lives all begin the same
as a lake of still water
reflecting the life
shining upon it
with timeless
unwavering
truth
but then
settled time
like lake sediment
can sometimes be disturbed
and so the water, murky and troubled
makes it harder to see clearly as we once did

seasons pass
and we may forget
what the lake reflected
when we first opened our eyes

it's not good to forget
and so a question
does arise:

how
can we be
of the world
we see
without disturbing
the water?

life
after all
can be confusing

well

there is   a trick
that has helped me a lot
perhaps it will help you too
though our world seems a mess
each piece connects to the rest
so all you really have to do
is start seeing the signs
hid by the pines
and remember
the life
of:

living without lines

there are no lines
that can divide
nor will there ever be
 just watch your thoughts
and one at a time
your lines
will be set free
soon after you'll see
that the lines were not real
that separated us from each other
so let us tend to our thoughts
all of us children
so we can tend
to our gift that is
the garden of our mother



the only lines that exist
are the ones that tie it all together

i call these connecting lines

but the more you see connecting lines 
you see there aren't lines
not really
 
because all of these lines connect
forming life's single
beautiful line

the line always

and so
not a line
but a circle
a beautiful circle
a astounding gift of circle
of which i am grateful to be part

but still
sometimes
i am left wondering

why

why does the world
seems so terribly thirsty
the soil
cracked and dry
so i look up at the sky
i beg for release
and that is
when i

cry

please
look down
at our body
thirsty for rain
to come wash away our
troubled sediment of pain
you see, the only way 'out'
is to let it all come in
so we must cry to grow
learning once more
what it means
to begin
again



so i continue
as life always must
facing the pain
all born within us

i cry
i breathe
i am patient
i try to remember

the universe is young
and so the circle is small
though it's growing day by day

we all know it's true
it takes more than a while
for a young plant to find its way

however

if you are impatient
like me
you can help grow the circle
by

watering the tree

to you i plea
to water the tree
our soil is dry
roots sing
for relief
it will just take a moment
all you must do
is be
rainfall
for another
who is really
only me
so water
as a mother
pours love
into her child
or as i rain on me
the only garden i see
upon which life
miraculously
has found
a home
to be



it helps to remember
that it doesn't really matter
where you are watering
it only matters
that you are

for simply by watering the garden
you show others how to see
that i've only got you

and:

you've only got me

you've only got me
that's it, you see
so mind what you plant in my soil
for out of me grows
all that you know
for you
i have toiled
and toiled
because i so wish
to find others like me
who are lucky to be
a drop in the sea
so please


stop

and see

you've only got me


all of life
knows this
but humans
sometimes forget

it isn't good to forget

for, when we forget
a certain feeling
isn't present
called:

belonging

have you ever felt
as home as you could be
with someone that you loved
or your favorite childhood tree

did you feel like leaving
or did you want to stay 'inside'
the home you found with someone else
in which both of you could reside

i understand our need
to have a place called home
but unless we see it
of our self
we will always have 'alone'

a tiny question
unresolved
hid within our heart
to lie to us
'we are always alone'
no matter of what
we're part

and so
i ask you
gently
to search
within your soul
and see
all is belonging
no matter where you go

only then
are we to hear
the song that i am singing
the bell that is so softly ringing
inviting us
to come back home
whispering as a mother
you are no longer
on your own
 


belonging is the most beautiful feeling known to all life

it is this feeling that makes the very unfolding of life possible

it is found in every strand of the fabric of the universe

belonging

is

for without this feeling
life could not be

though such a truth
could not be more present
truth can be forgotten
for so it seems
that far too often
we falsely think of loss
protecting at whatever cost
those things we feel
that we are of
as if without them
we are no longer enough
and so now we come to:

love

letting go
of what we love
is how we let love grow
for each time we give
we learn to live
and slowly come to know
that love is not
a single thing
tied tightly to another
true love is
a gift of freedom
here to give each other
when we remember
how to give
it's only then we'll see
that love is all we're made of
and love is all
we'll ever be
and you
and i
will give love freely
knowing we are free
in the love
forever there
a gift for you
from me



however

often it seems
our misunderstanding of love
leads to us forgetting about something:

that we all
by being
belong

and when you forget you belong
you forget you are loved

sometimes
when we forget
we're left wondering
as to where we ought to go

for sometimes it feels there's no place to be
when there's a separation between 'you' and 'me'

and so here
i must rhyme
about:

family

look
come closer
to seeing the eyes
of those in your family
you will soon be surprised
 that as you look closer
in eyes of another
you will find
them all
sisters
fathers
mothers
and brothers
and not only these
but much, much, much more
for as we all see, we open our door
inviting the rest of the life we've left lone
our family who has roamed and roamed
to belong once again
to our single
shared
home
then soon
we will realize
all belonging is here
not only people we're born to
but all that is near
and on that day
we'll smile
and let go
of fear



i have passed much time
wondering how to give belonging
 
i care deeply about learning how to give this feeling
because when we feel belonging
we feel:

gratitude

hello
thank you
for giving me
of all that i know
and thanks for showing
all that i needed to grow
though sometimes i wondered
i now understand
that the lives we are living
are all gifts born of land
but to return when i ends
to the palm of our hand

offering our body
to the earth
upon which
we stand



true gratitude is quite an incredible feeling
it is the feeling of life's love for itself

written another way
when we feel gratitude
we love ourselves

and when we learn to love ourselves
we learn how to freely give
and this leads to:

reciprocity

if only words were circles
 then we would need nothing more
for each word would lead to giving
back to the circle that we're living
and each reminding us that giving
is all that living life is for
but a soul on soil to pour

​​​


but
again
sometimes
we forget
we all belong

for one reason
or another

perhaps
you know someone
who is lost in gloom
one who says that our world
is nothing
but doomed
and they say
we are digging
our very own tomb

but remember
these thoughts
make our single

messy room

sometimes we find
a mess on the floor
revealing to us
what 'others' endure

for inside our heads
the mess is much bigger
though we try to clean up
here, it still lingers

isn’t it odd
that our room is messy
born of heads full of thoughts
most unnecessary

there’s something amiss
when you and i feel apart
so for us to be closer
i dive in my heart




and so
we create
however we can
each and every one

it starts out quietly
responding to a messy room
nothing more than small mirrors
reflecting back a beautiful
infinitely delicate soul
that longs to grow
and understand
and love

these small mirrors can be any forms
but all give the same feeling
the feeling of belonging
of which we drink
drawing from
our deep
well

but
over time
our mirror grows
more and more
and more
until
then
one day
everything is
all within the mirror
into which we look, wondering
why things are the way things are

and then
after some time
you see where to start
that it's the heart
we must open
and so we
make:

art

i hope
this will help
to clean our mess
here inside of our head
so we can clean up the rest
then perhaps on that day
step out of our room
each of us free
just to be
and see
sky and earth
to swim in our lake
through waters so still
our mind but a flower in bloom



it seemed some things needed to happen
so we could remember who we are
and start cleaning our room

we are remembering now
simply by looking at ourselves
just a little bit closer
a touch deeper
'til simply
we see:

a home, to be

i
my
oh me
how long
must it be
'til we all see
and know that home is
not a place where you go
nor place to sleep
or to kneel
or eat

nor is home in a forest
nor a field of wheat
not where you walk
reside or hide
home is only
one place:


inside

and then
when you find it
and it also finds you
you will see that all along
there was no finding to do
and then all of a sudden
you're happy to be
wherever you are
for you know
deep down
you are
always
with
me



we all need the feeling of belonging to a home
it should be the simplest feeling to feel
for its truth is rooted as deep as life itself

but not everyone feels
that they belong
and here
is:

why

do you remember
that time long ago
 you created some lines
hurting someone you know

or do you feel it was them
who made lines for you
leaving you lost
alone, and confused


remember

it's all of these moments
that together create
a world of a room
grown messy
of late

most of these words
we read the wrong way
for no reason at all
a sky to turn gray

but some of the time
i speak from the place
of my pain deep inside

the past asking
for space

the trick
is to listen
past our words
and just feel
to reveal the heart
of the 'other' to heal

yes
i know
it's tricky
but it is true
words we have only
and use them we all do
we must be more careful
and try not to divide
for times when we do
we forget that in
truth it's from
ourselves
that we
hide


so

mind what you say
so that others do too
remember the other
is each other
but really
i only
you





now when all of this is sorted out
and we have all tidied up our rooms
we don't need to stop there
for the most fun part
still remains:

play

i remember
long ago
the very first toy
i found

was
a ball
lying there
still upon the ground

i touched it
and then suddenly
there were many
many more

i played with as many as i could
but soon all were out the door

but that was enough
to dance and sing
touching some
and so life
to bring
for
each
i touched
i left a mark
the touch
of play
life's
single
spark



play is the purpose of living
for in true play lies true freedom
the freedom we all felt when we were young

this freedom is what each one of us longs for
from the deepest part of our soul

but how
does one play?

sometimes we think
that we have forgotten

however
in reality
we always have

the key

it's really quite simple
if you want to play
let you be free
and wake up
as me



and then
we'll realize
how magical it is
to simply live and be
and by remembering
learn to give
through

curiosity

do you see
or taste or touch
or smell or hear or feel?

are these senses not enough
for you to see what's real?

all it takes
is one small glance
so look around you
take a chance

see the world
through clear eyes

to
let
your
senses
dance



life is miraculous
when lived through play

and so i write to all of you:

you will find your play

when you do
play with gratitude
as if you only had one ball
and you really didn't want to lose it

so
in stead
place it inside
tucked in your heart
where play always resides
and then play with the world
of which we are always part
from when the world gave
our very first breath
all the way to the
the last and
so then

(perhaps)

we come to know

death

sorry
you cannot know
and nor can i
what happens when
we come
to die
but some say
perhaps
we return once more
or perhaps
some say
they're done all their chores
some say
there must
be some kind of reward
and some say
others will toil some more
some say
nothing
we'll all be bored
and some say
well
actually
coming
and
going
don't work
rather
they say
stop
and look
maybe it's
always
and nothing more
everything
timeless
one single door
to a place with no ends
and no beginnings in turn
a place without space
with no in between
leaving i full
knowing
serene
our body
and our spirit
always washed clean
made of nothing but water
from the purest stream



one question remains:

why?

i wish i could
but i can't tell you why
because i am still wondering, myself
perhaps i will never know

but one thing is certain

those who are exploring the 'why'
are those among us who are still playing
i am sure you know them

look around
ask to join them
chances are
they will be overjoyed
to give

for they know that play
was given to them

***

and so
may we all
stop and ponder
and gaze
in absolute wonder
at our playground
in the sky
born from the ground
beneath our eyes
the future of which
although we try
can never be truly surmised

so look up tonight
and see where we are

perhaps
you will see
our

sandbox of stars

a sandbox of stars
is where we are
a magical
place
of play
here to stay
this wonder of life
curiously finding our way

a sandbox of stars
lights up where we are
and so to our world we all say
we will play for the stars
a light shining bright
who bore this child
all of life
in sight

a curious
inexplicable
sandbox of stars
could not be more a home
for we
are all
tied together
no matter where we roam

but then
it would be nice
to find other life all grown
so to play together
side by side
here at home
in our
curious
miraculous
sandbox of stars



i hope you invite someone
to play with you
in the sandbox today

i wish you
a beautiful day
here is a golden poem
to send you on

your way

go as you tend
to the seeds
you sow
and
may you
wend your way
through all i know


































































i thank you for the time you read this story
i am updating it regularly as life unfolds
i encourage you to write a story, as well

you know, it's fun to write stories

but sometimes
i find myself stuck
it is a tricky challenge
to write a story without lines
it seems unavoidable that
at least one is made
the line between
the writer
and the reader
but i ask, please
always remember this
i am not writing the story,

am i?
you are