Guest guest Posted March 5, 1999 Report Share Posted March 5, 1999 Dove Sutras My nearly grown dove is accustomed to phantom feedings: I take her mouth between my fingers imitating a parental beak, pump up and down, the motility of regurgitation. She closes her eyes, angles her beak and face through the slip in my fingers, looks for crop milk. She will smack her lips as if indeed she has discovered a fountain of fine, warm, gourmet bird milk, really just soup. It’s hilarious. But what force drives this bird back for more? * Transcendence, a stone thrown into a pond. No ripples. * My north stars, doves and snakes, orientating me in a world of human havoc. * Moon over the lake— golden plumage of water rising. * The pockets and holes in a river— that’s where the river finds its depth, if it looks down into itself and not sideways. * Doves, too, have their firsts: first brooding breastbone full of holy sky and help, crickets sawing through summer, moths and dragonflies, startling streaks and crinkles of wing, unnerving watermelons, canticles of rain and song, exaltations of flight and plunge, migration by the stars of their own great hearts. * Altar— medallions, puja set, malas, blue rosary, icons, St. Francis, healing Buddha, dove dropping, Kuan Yin, Jesus, Krishna and Radha, Ganesh, Divine Mothers, yogis. What a Zen poet could do with this. Light and shit! Have a bowl of rice and soup. * Holding on to shakti is like trying to hold on to the sky or a bird, each impossible to contain. * The high self’s a diamond cutter bent over a workbench behind the scenes, chiseling and buffing each facet of your life, releasing the shine of your light. When he takes long breaks, those are your dark nights. * Dove takes a vow of light: "Never to be diminished by whatever dark eclipses roll across the sky." * Inner work: shoveling a mountainside of rock and dirt off the road beneath that is mixed with blazing garnets, emeralds-- with a teaspoon. * A cricket’s one long syllable: all the language he needs if it’s good enough. * Moonlight on the road— bales of fallen, scattered hay. * The forest wood bluet, a jewel in spruce shade, hidden from the light that could strike its truest sparkle. * Initiations I always light a candle— fire serving as witness to fire. * The day you look into the surface of a pond and see no reflection, bow down, bow down, bow down! * We own our small provinces on this earth the way ice cubes believe they own the sun. We are as children floating unconscious at the bottom of a pool until the light dives in, pulls us out, gives heart to heart. * The great spiritual sun: this is the only one you can stare at for as long as you wish. * The rivers of the soul are everyone’s personal Ganges right where you are. Take a holy dip. * Flycatcher lilts on a stately mullein stalk, surveys his kingdom of grass. To me, it’s temple. * I dream talons skewered my neck, lifted me above the hill, the wind wide-eyed and screaming—then I was dropped back into my body, a nest of feathers and bones. * I pluck a rose for the blue vase and pray to the water I’ve stuck it in to keep it blooming. * My growing dove— her song is coming, bigger than she is, bigger than all of us. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted March 5, 1999 Report Share Posted March 5, 1999 >From errors-73173-462-spiritmed=hotmail.com Fri Mar 5 09:28:52 1999 >Received: (qmail 16674 invoked by alias); 5 Mar 1999 17:37:47 -0000 >Received: (qmail 16659 invoked from network); 5 Mar 1999 17:37:46 -0000 >Received: from unknown (HELO dns.cyberlink.bc.ca) (209.87.21.34) by pop. with SMTP; 5 Mar 1999 17:37:46 -0000 >Received: from your-name (dial152.cyberlink.bc.ca [209.87.21.152]) by dns.cyberlink.bc.ca (8.9.1/8.9.1) with SMTP id KAA07047 for < >; Fri, 5 Mar 1999 10:28:49 -0700 (MST) >Message-ID: <36E0236B.3D36 >Fri, 05 Mar 1999 10:33:15 -0800 >Tim Harris <harris >Organization: Inner Chamber Intelligence >X-Mailer: Mozilla 3.0 (Win95; U) > >References: <19990305153722.9511.qmail >Mailing-List: list ; contact -owner >Delivered-mailing list >Precedence: bulk >List-Un: <- (AT) ONElist (DOT) com> >Reply-to: >Mime-Version: 1.0 >Content-Type: text/plain; charset=iso-8859-1 >Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit > Re: (no subject) > >Tim Harris <harris ah stuff it ya know it all. > >michael arvey wrote: > >> >> * >> >> Transcendence, a stone thrown into a pond. >> No ripples. >> >> * > >No ripple. No effect. Where then is bliss? In the stone or in the still >water? > >> >> My north stars, doves and snakes, >> orientating me >> >> in a world of human havoc. >> >> * > >Is this not then where we should focus? > >> >> Moon over >> the lake— >> >> golden plumage of water rising. >> >> * > >And 'elsewhere' water settling. > >> >> The pockets and holes in a river— >> that’s where the river >> finds its depth, if it looks >> down into itself >> >> and not sideways. >> >> * > >True, however let us not forget the message of the great grey elephant >Elmer (little Canadian Safety Elephant humor here) Look *both* ways >before you cross the street. > >> >> Holding on to shakti >> is like trying to hold on to the >> sky >> or a bird, each impossible >> >> to contain. >> >> * > >Yet contained nonetheless. > >> >> The high self’s a diamond >> cutter bent over a >> workbench >> behind the scenes, chiseling and buffing >> each facet of your life, >> >> releasing the shine of your light. When he takes long breaks, >> >> those are your dark nights. >> >> * >Then surely, rather than make me perfect, he should skip the cutting and >grind me to sand. Is it not here that perfection is found? Perfection >moved by the oceans and moon and dried by sun? Each wave a poem only the >greatest poetry remaining at the top? Then to be erased with the newest >poem. >> >> Dove takes a vow >> of light: >> >> "Never to be diminished >> by whatever dark eclipses >> roll across the sky." >> >> * > >The sky of the mind is forever dark until we let the light in. Only then >can we get our fill so that we learn to breathe again. > >> >> Inner work: shoveling a mountainside of rock and dirt >> off the road beneath that is mixed >> with blazing garnets, emeralds-- >> >> with a teaspoon. >> >> * > >Outer work...figuring what to do with all the rumble. Good thing it is >only a teaspoon. > >> >> Initiations I always light >> a candle— >> fire serving as witness to fire. > >Nice. Very nice. > >> >> * >> >> The day you look into the surface >> of a pond >> and see no reflection, >> >> bow down, bow down, bow down! >> >> * > >It is behind you and hopping mad! Place it back where it belongs so that >you can keep an 'eye' on it. Only here can you see your world. > > > >Things snipped were snipped for their beauty and placed in a vase. The >things mentioned are but an offering of my own short-comings. These >flowers too were beauty, but I felt unworthy to pick for my own words >were shade in the flower and it is here that I choose to stay a while >longer. Cool summer breezes make me smile. > >Regards. > >Tim Harris > >------ >Start a new hobby. Meet a new friend. > >Onelist: The leading provider of free email list services > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted March 5, 1999 Report Share Posted March 5, 1999 michael arvey wrote: > > * > > Transcendence, a stone thrown into a pond. > No ripples. > > * No ripple. No effect. Where then is bliss? In the stone or in the still water? > > My north stars, doves and snakes, > orientating me > > in a world of human havoc. > > * Is this not then where we should focus? > > Moon over > the lake— > > golden plumage of water rising. > > * And 'elsewhere' water settling. > > The pockets and holes in a river— > that’s where the river > finds its depth, if it looks > down into itself > > and not sideways. > > * True, however let us not forget the message of the great grey elephant Elmer (little Canadian Safety Elephant humor here) Look *both* ways before you cross the street. > > Holding on to shakti > is like trying to hold on to the > sky > or a bird, each impossible > > to contain. > > * Yet contained nonetheless. > > The high self’s a diamond > cutter bent over a > workbench > behind the scenes, chiseling and buffing > each facet of your life, > > releasing the shine of your light. When he takes long breaks, > > those are your dark nights. > > * Then surely, rather than make me perfect, he should skip the cutting and grind me to sand. Is it not here that perfection is found? Perfection moved by the oceans and moon and dried by sun? Each wave a poem only the greatest poetry remaining at the top? Then to be erased with the newest poem. > > Dove takes a vow > of light: > > "Never to be diminished > by whatever dark eclipses > roll across the sky." > > * The sky of the mind is forever dark until we let the light in. Only then can we get our fill so that we learn to breathe again. > > Inner work: shoveling a mountainside of rock and dirt > off the road beneath that is mixed > with blazing garnets, emeralds-- > > with a teaspoon. > > * Outer work...figuring what to do with all the rumble. Good thing it is only a teaspoon. > > Initiations I always light > a candle— > fire serving as witness to fire. Nice. Very nice. > > * > > The day you look into the surface > of a pond > and see no reflection, > > bow down, bow down, bow down! > > * It is behind you and hopping mad! Place it back where it belongs so that you can keep an 'eye' on it. Only here can you see your world. Things snipped were snipped for their beauty and placed in a vase. The things mentioned are but an offering of my own short-comings. These flowers too were beauty, but I felt unworthy to pick for my own words were shade in the flower and it is here that I choose to stay a while longer. Cool summer breezes make me smile. Regards. Tim Harris Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted March 5, 1999 Report Share Posted March 5, 1999 > > ah stuff it ya know it all. > > LOL. You know it was good stuff and so do I. Can we, at the least, agree on that? Regards. Tim Harris Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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