Archive
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.
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.
A rare Saturday poem: “Earning; Deserving?”
I have been working hard in my dreams these nights. Each seems to be a struggle to get something done, to get out of some situation, to find my way through. I wonder if these dreams reflect something I am not doing during my waking hours. I wonder what I have left undone.
This wondering led me to the whole notion of doing, earning, deserving, etc. This concept of deserving is much in the news these days as we watch and wonder about the Kavanaugh nightmare. He seems to believe he has earned his nomination and deserves to be seated on the highest bench in the land. He seems to dismiss any debt that may be weighing him down.
The wondering led to today’s poem. What do any of us deserve in this life? Can we earn our way up and out? We are all privileged beyond all conception of earning or deserving. In Buddhist thought human beings are an exceeding rare opportunity in the cosmos. How can there be any other response to this but gratitude, compassion and love?
Earning; Deserving?
The Mayans say we come into this world
With tremendous debt.
We stand on the bones, the struggles, the sweat
Of all our ancestors through ten-thousand generations.
What have we done to deserve our first breath?
What can we do to earn the next?
To become a conscious being is an enormously rare gift;
There is no wage to earn our way out of this debt.
But there is a currency we can generate to return.
It is not enough, as small as a Widow’s Mite.
It is not quite nothing, yet more than we deserve;
Our coin is our conscious love.
We breathe in gratitude, awed at the magnitude of this debt.
We breathe out love, our two-bit return.
In these moments there is no earning, no deserving.
Love is the only gift we can freely accept and give.
©2018 Richard W. Bredeson. All rights reserved.
A poem to celebrate this day: Anniversary
Rosemary and I have been married for 34 years now. It was a lovely evening in Maryland that July 22, 1983. It was not a “triple H” day. We chose well.
There are many things over the years that we have chosen well. Certainly sustaining an active partnership through many adventures has been our most significant choice. And all we can really do in this life is keep these good choices flowing, one into the next.
Love sustains the flow, always. And communications sustains the love. Partnership can be a beautiful thing when it is cared for.
My poem today is a bit random; thoughts strung together to celebrate us, our “mature marriage.” Enjoy!
Anniversary
A year, a celebration,
Solar return for a marriage,
Mary M Day, triple H day,
This year, Saturn’s Day.
This year marks 34
In time that is not real,
Only there to maintain schedules,
Hold people together in this dimension.
What is a mature marriage?
What does one look like?
Boring, rote, habitual, well trod paths,
Patterns flowing into patterns of sameness?
No! Refuse this trend, this pattern!
Every day is a new day.
Every year is a new year.
35 is the best year yet!
Invention, creation, adventures,
Plans to move forward,
Visions to propel the movement,
And conversations to keep it all fresh!
©2017 Richard W. Bredeson. All rights reserved.
A FRIDAY POEM FROM RHYTHMS AND CYCLES – “The Future is Now”
Rosemary’s Exploration, posted today on her blog (look for it here next Wednesday), is about choice, about choosing our family, our life, our Truth. It’s about rewriting our stories the way we want them to be lived and told.
I came across this poem before I read her article; they seem to go together. All time is NOW. When we live in the present every moment is a moment of our choosing. Dream into your own reality!
The Future is Now
If the future is now
Dreams are now.
This is Dream Time.
And is the past now?
Forgiveness is now.
This is the lesson.
Now is only now,
Past time, Dream Time,
All one now.
©2014 Richard W. Bredeson. All rights reserved.