Fully-Dawned

?????????????????

 

 

Like a spider who plucks
Web strands in its advance
To the center,
Dazzling Dawn inches up the almost blue sky
Casting wisps of crimson and yellow
Between giant fir watchmen.

Our souls watch and wait
In the weather of our lives
For Dawn to enlighten and enliven
The dark places.
She advances with intention
Choosing hues that saturate shadows
Lingering in the recesses
Of experience and expectation.

Color drenches the dark
Until we emerge inebriated with hope
Fully-dawned and daunted
No more.

© rita h kowats  November 30, 2014
 

The Space in God’s Eye

the space in god's eye

 

 

There is a space where two disparate souls can meet and dwell in peace, even if only for a few minutes here and a few minutes there.  Those few minutes can keep a relationship alive and thriving for a long time if we learn how to get out of the way of our judgments.  If we can believe that we are connected in that space even world peace is possible.

Last week I posted Thich Naht Hahn’s poem, “Call Me by My True Names.”  In it he reminds us of our call to compassion with, the lines

“I am the twelve-year-old girl, refugee on a small boat, who throws herself into the ocean after being raped by a sea pirate,
and I am the pirate, my heart not yet capable of seeing and loving.”

I am still struggling to get out of the way of the pirate’s evil deed in order to enter into the sacred space where we are one.  I believe in the space and I know that in order to enter it I have to leave dualistic thinking behind.  Thinking like, “Pirate evil.  Me good.”  Meister Eckhart tells us

The eye with which I see god
is the same eye with which god sees me.
My eye and God’s eye are one.
One seeing, one knowing, one loving.

the space in god's eye

If the eye with which the pirate sees god is the same eye with which god sees the pirate, why is it so hard to believe that the space where the pirate is seen by god is the same space where I am seen by god, and it is holy.  If we can live in that space long enough we are home.  We arrive with all our faults and we are loved anyway…both of us.

I have found that I cannot believe this with my mind.  The only way I can begin to  feel compassion for the pirate is to go into the eye of god.  I rediscovered a mantra given to me by Spirit in another blog.  It has been helpful:

Breathing in I welcome the other.
Breathing out I release judgment.
Breathing in I am at one with the other
Breathing out I release duality.

 

 

Photo Credits for the eyes in god’s eye:

a href=httpswww.flickr.comphotosmaniya968334809~FreeBirD®~a via a href=httpphotopin.comphotopina a href=httpcreativecommons.orglicensesby-nc-nd2.0cca (2)

a href=httpswww.flickr.comphotosmaniya968334809~FreeBirD®~a via a href=httpphotopin.comphotopina a href=httpcreativecommons.orglicensesby-nc-nd2.0cca

a href=httpswww.flickr.comphotosadamcohn2515866014AdamCohna via a href=httpphotopin.comphotopina a href=httpcreativecommons.orglicensesby-nc-nd2.0cca

a href=httpswww.flickr.comphotos69er463302758Mohammed Alnasera via a href=httpphotopin.comphotopina a href=httpcreativecommons.orglicensesby-nc-nd2.0cca

“Call Me By My True Names”

Thich Nhat Hanh 12 (cropped).jpg

 

As Thich Nhat Hanh lies in critical condition in a hospital after a brain hemorrhage, I sit here and try to take in these challenging words.  If we can get to the point of recognizing how evil intention lives in ourselves, perhaps we can get to the point of forgiveness and reconciliation with the perpetrators of evil deeds.

 

Call Me by My True Names
by Thich Nhat Hanh

From: Peace is Every Step: The Path of Mindfulness in Everyday Life by Thich Nhat Hanh
In Plum Village, where I live in France, we receive many letters from the refugee camps in Singapore, Malaysia, Indonesia, Thailand, and the Philippines, hundreds each week. It is very painful to read them, but we have to do it, we have to be in contact. We try our best to help, but the suffering is enormous, and sometimes we are discouraged. It is said that half the boat people die in the ocean. Only half arrive at the shores in Southeast Asia, and even then they may not be safe.

There are many young girls, boat people, who are raped by sea pirates. Even though the United Nations and many countries try to help the government of Thailand prevent that kind of piracy, sea pirates continue to inflict much suffering on the refugees. One day we received a letter telling us about a young girl on a small boat who was raped by a Thai pirate. She was only twelve, and she jumped into the ocean and drowned herself.

When you first learn of something like that, you get angry at the pirate. You naturally take the side of the girl. As you look more deeply you will see it differently. If you take the side of the little girl, then it is easy. You only have to take a gun and shoot the pirate. But we cannot do that. In my meditation I saw that if I had been born in the village of the pirate and raised in the same conditions as he was, there is a great likelihood that I would become a pirate. I saw that many babies are born along the Gulf of Siam, hundreds every day, and if we educators, social workers, politicians, and others do not do something about the situation, in twenty-five years a number of them will become sea pirates. That is certain. If you or I were born today in those fishing villages, we may become sea pirates in twenty-five years. If you take a gun and shoot the pirate, all of us are to some extent responsible for this state of affairs.

After a long meditation, I wrote this poem. In it, there are three people: the twelve-year-old girl, the pirate, and me. Can we look at each other and recognize ourselves in each other? The tide of the poem is “Please Call Me by My True Names,” because I have so many names. When I hear one of the of these names, I have to say, “Yes.”

Call Me by My True Names

Do not say that I’ll depart tomorrow
because even today I still arrive.

Look deeply: I arrive in every second
to be a bud on a spring branch,
to be a tiny bird, with wings still fragile,
learning to sing in my new nest,
to be a caterpillar in the heart of a flower,
to be a jewel hiding itself in a stone.

I still arrive, in order to laugh and to cry,
in order to fear and to hope.
The rhythm of my heart is the birth and
death of all that are alive.

I am the mayfly metamorphosing on the surface of the river,
and I am the bird which, when spring comes, arrives in time
to eat the mayfly.

I am the frog swimming happily in the clear pond,
and I am also the grass-snake who, approaching in silence,
feeds itself on the frog.

I am the child in Uganda, all skin and bones,
my legs as thin as bamboo sticks,
and I am the arms merchant, selling deadly weapons to
Uganda.

I am the twelve-year-old girl, refugee on a small boat,
who throws herself into the ocean after being raped by a sea
pirate,
and I am the pirate, my heart not yet capable of seeing and
loving.

I am a member of the politburo, with plenty of power in my
hands,
and I am the man who has to pay his “debt of blood” to, my
people,
dying slowly in a forced labor camp.

My joy is like spring, so warm it makes flowers bloom in all
walks of life.
My pain if like a river of tears, so full it fills the four oceans.

Please call me by my true names,
so I can hear all my cries and laughs at once,
so I can see that my joy and pain are one.

Please call me by my true names,
so I can wake up,
and so the door of my heart can be left open,
the door of compassion.

Thich Nhat Hanh

Dharma Writing Workshop

The Dharma Writing Workshop http://www.quietspaces.com/dharmawriting.html

Photo Credit:  Wikipedia

Know Your Crow: Connections

crow with woman  photo credit a href=httpswww.flickr.comphotospequenasuricata1413285694Pequena Suricataa via a href=httpphotopin.comphotopina a href=httpcreativecommons.orglicensesby-nc-nd2.0cca

On a hot August day
I sat on the spacious balcony of my home
Reading about enfolding and unfolding
Teetering between rupture and rapture,
When Lenore came to visit.
She landed in the gutter
And cocked her head in response
To my accolades of her beauty and intelligence.

After a bit she let loose with a booming
Caaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaw
And flew onto the railing to study me better.
Then- exit stage up.

Lenore’s raucous call had announced
A radical paradigm shift in our lives.
Nevermore are we separate, but connected
Evermore.

© rita h kowats

photo credit:  a href=httpswww.flickr.comphotospequenasuricata1413285694Pequena Suricataa via a href=httpphotopin.comphotopina a href=httpcreativecommons.orglicensesby-nc-nd2.0cca

Shivering Souls

bare trees in forest 2 photo credit a href=httpswww.flickr.comphotoszharth8372204605zhartha via a href=httpphotopin.comphotopina a href=httpcreativecommons.orglicensesby-nc-nd2.0cca

 

In November we enter a  liminal space spiritually, where souls shiver and flame…

 

 

The Bare Bones of Kenosis

 

 

 

 

photo credit: <a href=”https://www.flickr.com/photos/zharth/8372204605/“>zharth</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com“>photopin</a> <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/“>cc</a> edited

Knowing What Time It Is

intrinsic rhythm of control and surrender

 

 

Hang on.
Let go.
Let be.
What time is it?

The Spirit of the Dynamic Dance
Draws us into her syncopated rhythm.
Provocative and exciting is this tango of time,
Punctuated by head-snaps and intricate footwork.

Control
(Head-snap)
Surrender
(Head-snap)
Let be.

The dance is the time.
In dancing the dance
We know we are alive.

© rita h kowats 10-31-14

 

Enjoy visiting or revisiting this tango scene from the film Shall We Dance:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HNjVaaZXcBY