Archive
Remembrance: a poem about surrender
I’ve been in a soft place lately pondering my resistance to a chant that Deva Premal and Miten offer frequently during their Gayatri Sangha gatherings on Saturdays. The chant is one Miten wrote: “Into your hands I lay my spirit, Into your hands I lay my life…” When Miten wrote this years ago he did not realize these were basically the final words attributed to Jesus as he was dying on the cross.
So, my resistance is partly a result of my Christian background and my own negative reactions to the conditioning I am working through and beyond. And a piece (peace) of the “beyond” is to soften if not release the resistance.
As I contemplated this yesterday the Sufi chant, the Zikr (Remembrance) came to mind; I learned this during my seminary days and have often embraced it as a comforting prayer: “La Ilaha Illa Allah.” And then it finally hit me: if there is no reality but God, then anything I chant or recite is part of that godliness!
Here’s a poem to explore this:
Remembrance
I feel a distance that is not there,
separating, carving an empty gulf
that’s not real, only imagined in a
foolish mind.
As the distance narrows, disappears,
I sense resistance pressing hard to
release the powerful pull of a
longing heart.
As the resistance softens, collapses,
remembrance grabs my wandering
soul. The Sufi Zikr lights the way
showing all I need to know.
Mergence is that simple way, no distance,
no resistance, only remembering:
There’s no reality but God;
There is only God.
©2023 Richard W. Bredeson. All rights reserved.
A Winter Solstice Poem: My Life as a Poem (revised)
Revision: As I reviewed this post sorting through my word docs and rereading the poem (reviewing my life!) I realized I had left off the last verse (a cut and paste error)! So I have added that verse back in. How could I forget “love”? The poem (my life) is now complete.
In October I wrote “My Prayer” in the form of a poem. These words have stuck with me; they pop into my mind frequently during the day as I practice life. So I’m not surprised at this reprisal, an echo of that prayer as I wrote this poem on the Solstice and Conjunction.
My Life as a Poem
Waking to my day, a new page,
The threads of a dream drift away
On the winds of another life,
A poem gone now, glimpsed, forgotten.
Today a new dream begins, a new
Story of my own creating,
Speaking to the future, trusting in
The worthiness of these words.
Practice, it all begins and ends there.
Story is practice, a moving toward
Perfection, evolving with a rhythm;
Sometimes involving a rhyme.
With repetition the story evolves
Into a poem: my life as a poem.
For slips and slights I practice
Forgiveness – changing my perception.
Sometimes the words don’t come,
Resisting the page refusing to flow.
For the hesitance, the lurches I practice
Patience – waiting on the muse.
Regretting all that I have lost, resenting
What has been taken or misplaced;
For the destruction and death I practice
Praise – remembering life is ecstatic!
The suffering millions weigh heavily on my heart;
Stafford got it right when he said:
“The darkness around us is deep.” I practice
Compassion – wanting to save with my words.
These words may not be worthy as those of
The Bard of Stratford-upon-Avon. Yet, I read
And weep and rejoice and sing. And I practice
Wisdom – moving toward the light.
For all the grace, the wisdom, the compassion
I reach for words to reflect the deep.
I look up at the moon and practice
Gratitude – knowing they’ll appear complete.
At the end of the day, practice done
I realize I have one more line to
Write, one from my heart; and I practice
Love – the Love Poem of My Life.
©2020 Richard W. Bredeson. All rights reserved.
A Friday Poem: My Prayer
A few weeks ago I enjoyed several offerings by the Shift Network during their Global Summit. One of the most profound talks was by Andrew Harvey, a “modern mystic” for our times. His talk was an impassioned call to address the five crises humanity faces, and the five responses that are required to bring about a new paradigm for our survival on the planet.
I’ve been working on my responses. One of them is a prayer to bring about the new paradigm, the new way for humans to evolve and thrive on Mother Earth, a New Vision for Humanity. Here is my prayer:
My Prayer
Sitting in the midst of chaos,
Anger bubbling beneath the waves,
I practice: Forgiveness!
Wondering at the edge of time,
Anxiety rising to the surface,
I practice: Patience!
Feeling the loss of all that’s dear,
Grief hanging heavy all around,
I practice: Praise!
Witnessing the suffering everywhere,
Greed holding power in the world,
I practice: Compassion!
Knowing humanity is evolving now, with
Ignorance still shading the light,
I practice: Wisdom!
Realizing there is a greater good at work,
Trust breaking through to ignite souls,
I practice: Gratitude!
Awakening to a New World together,
Love shattering these old patterns,
I practice: Love!
©2020 Richard W. Bredeson. All rights reserved.
A mid-week poem: Falling
I have been absent from this blog for too long. I’ve missed the writing. I still write my “morning pages” almost every day but the poetry isn’t coming; lots of titles and ideas but little inspiration. There is so much chaos out there right now; it’s difficult to make sense of it!
So, I am falling!
Falling
Equinox behind, beyond balance,
Nights grow longer, shadows deepen.
Already inside, isolating, avoiding;
The waiting for darkness somehow soothes.
Breathing slows, drops, lengthens;
Eyes close, focus softens, turns inward.
An easy scan, toes to nose, body subsiding;
This is an inside job now; just breathe, be.
The falling isn’t downward but inward,
Into that core of self, being.
The gyro at the base of that core spins;
It stabilizes giving the body purpose.
Rest, be easy, let in the light;
No shadow here, on the inside.
©2020 Richard W. Bredeson. All rights reserved.
Friday’s poem, third in the trilogy this week: “Next”
I’m sitting here, all in white with my mantra and mala beads, fresh from the first day of “retreat” with Deva Premal & Miten and Manose. I’m feeling very mellow, connected, in a deep state of peace. And, yes, almost like this is “Next.” Rosemary and I are in retreat within the Gayatri Sangha for seven days, every day at 1:00 pm EDT. The energy that Miten is invoking for us each of these days is that of “Compassion, Forgiveness and Gratitude.” These are deep blessings for all of us to bring peace and joy into our lives! May it be so for you. May this be the next step for humanity!
Next
When I stop long enough to dream, to
Consider what comes next—there hovers
At the edge of my perception a
Disturbance in the air, a blur, a rush—
It’s like the invisible whir of Hummingbird
Wings; little tornadoes just beyond—
A flicker at the corner of eyesight,
A glint of movement too fine to be.
I wonder what higher consciousness looks like.
Is it a monk sitting silently on a cushion in a corner?
Is it even a human form available to five senses?
Perhaps it is that disturbance at the edge, beyond.
I cannot linger here for long in a conscious state,
Exploring this edge of what remains real.
I drift into a different dream and shift in shock
To wonder: Is this fluttering vibration a next me?
©2020 Richard W. Bredeson. All rights reserved.
Wednesday’s Poem, second in the trilogy – “Enough”
As I wrote and posted on Monday, I have three poems for this week, kind of a trilogy (at least I think they go together). This one is for my word for 2020: Enough. I have been working with this word, probably my whole life, but wanted to really focus on it this year. It is a very versatile word, applies in many contexts; I’ll let you use your imagination to extend it to your contexts!
Interestingly I’ve chosen to publish this today, July 22, Rosemary’s and my 37th annual celebration of our wedding. But my word does not apply in this context; I can never get enough Rosemary in my life!
I’ll post the third poem, “Next”, on Friday. I’ll let you decide how they fit!
Enough
Breath—so easy, in, out, unconscious,
Sleeping, moving, natural enough.
And when not, gasping, panic
A little death as flow ceases, seizes.
Means—water, food, comfort, semi-conscious
In the flow. Stuff accumulates, enough.
And when not, grasping, panic
A buying frenzy, empty shelves.
Freedom—to breathe, to buy, to be,
To choose what and when is enough.
And when not, gaining higher consciousness,
A steeper climb to see beyond ourselves.
Wisdom—perception is reality, perspective mastery;
The present moment holds it all—enough.
And when not, go deeper, beyond—
Breathe, rest mind, let go, BE.
©2020 Richard W. Bredeson. All rights reserved.
A midi-week poem to celebrate the book launch: “Heavy Lift”
Yesterday (July 7, 2020) I was feeling really wiped out; very low energy, tired, weighed down. Maybe it was the weekend full moon and eclipse; maybe it’s the heat and heavy weather, heavy energy; maybe it’s the ongoing pandemic and the disaster that seems unabated here in the US; maybe it is the collapse of everything we thought to be true and dear as we struggle under the weight of not knowing…
I feel better today. And it feels good to have launched the collaborative book I’m a part of (see yesterday’s post). Maybe that’s one weight lifted from my shoulders. And to celebrate this I did return to my poetry journal to ask some questions about this weighty time:
Heavy Lift
Does the Sun feel the Moon’s weight
As He lifts Her above the horizon
To better see Himself in Her mirror?
Is it a heavy lift?
Does God feel Man’s weight
As She lifts Him out of darkness
To better reflect Her image?
Is it a heavy lift?
Evolution is hard work for the gods
Raising Consciousness up a rung
To better realize creation’s Light.
It is a heavy lift!
Ascension is a steep and lonely climb;
It is an inside job for the strong of heart;
Energy runs high in this rarified Love.
It is a heavy lift!
©2020 Richard W. Bredeson. All rights reserved.
A Sunday Poem: Don’t Let Their Throes Throw You
It seems needed now…
Don’t Let Their Throes Throw You
Violence feels on the rise; state
Sponsored terror, murder is
At the door, our door!
Will it never end? Will the killing
Stop? The promised “new age”
Seems a distant dream.
Yet there are signs and wonders
We watch for, as planets turn
And Pluto returns with renewal.
Perhaps the step-up in violence is
One of these signs: the final throes
Of a dying age, expiring time—
For the ones losing power, losing
Their grip on the old ways. They
Hold tighter for a moment. But
Their days are numbered; their time
Is running. They have no vision.
Don’t let their throes throw you.
Throw off the burden of violence, hold
The vision of that New Age, and take on
The lighter load of love.
©2020, Richard W. Bredeson, all rights reserved.
A Friday Poem for the New Year: “Locked by the Clock”
Over the holidays I’ve been reading a lot of Rumi, especially “The Soul of Rumi, A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems” translated by Coleman Barks. Many of these poems are ghazals, poems comprised of couplets. In his later published poems, Robert Bly took up this form. I have refrained from writing in this form as the rules are complex. But I don’t necessarily have to follow all the rules to write couplets. And I don’t have to call this poem a ghazal!
At this time of the year I often think about time. Yesterday as I was writing, the title of this poem came to mind. As I began to write it couplets came through. And as the poem developed our trip to the ocean to celebrate our December 15th special day came to mind. So, here is an attempt at a ghazal-like poem to celebrate the New Year and to put the passage of time in proper perspective!
Locked by the Clock
Teaching Qigong I often say:
“Locked knees block Qi.” Energy,
It flows from the earth, through the feet
Into the core of our being. Feel it,
The force of that flow surges
Like the tide lifting the heart. Listen:
The roaring surf, the salt spray
Glistening in the hanging mist, suspended:
The shimmering light of winter’s
Sun. Such times at the shore!
It is easy to float, drifting within the
Tide, not locked by the clock. Free:
No thought, merging with the
Ocean, emerging as One.
©2020, Richard W. Bredeson, all rights reserved.
A poem for our special day, December 15: Reflect, Project, Be
Rosemary and I celebrate December 15 every year as a remembrance of an awakening we both had many years ago. It was a turning point for both of us. And inevitably, inexorably it was the beginning of now. Here is my poem to commemorate our “awakening” this year:
Reflect, Project, Be
A time to reflect on the past:
This is good.
Viewing where we have been
Informs.
A time to project on the future:
To cast a vision, set a path.
It may wander and veer, yet
The way ahead will clear with each step.
And a time to be:
To be here as two and one,
In shade and sun, moving in step
To the beat of one drum.
Listen for the spirit song
Humming along,
Calling, serenading, guiding
Us home, never alone!
©2019, Richard W. Bredeson, all rights reserved.
Happy Awakening Day, dear. I love you!
Please enjoy!
Men and The Goddess 