Being

This one was written as a window into the meditation experience. I was wondering how best to capture why we meditate and how the experiences in meditation can transform us.

Being

In the silence of meditation

Our Being waits in brilliance

infinitely inert, infinitely potent

come, it beckons quietly,

let us show you the hidden lands

let us heal your wounds that are not

your lonely weeping

Our Being, which is you,

will raise

The Forgotten into Fullness.

The Broken into Wholeness

The Lost into Meaning.

Come, it says,

know the truth of your Being.

 

© 2018 fieldpoet. all rights reserved.

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Stepping in to the heart

For many year I have participated in and facilitated Family Constellations. I consider it to be a truly sacred process and a great privilege to be allowed to “step in” to the “Knowing Field” of a Family System.

What is Family Constellations? It’s a form of alternative therapy for healing relationships within a family (I’m beginning to realise I must write more about this – later) which is becoming more and more main stream. You can read about it here: https://familyconstellations.co.za/introduction/

Stepping in to the heart
The sacred space of a family
One sees

One sees the broken heart
The sacred heart, given
But not understood

Stepping into the heart
Reality is revealed
In a simple statement

Understanding unravels
Deep entanglements
Where only love now exists

Stepping into the heart
Life flows
Movements happen

Movements of people
Inclusion of the lost
Leaving pulse and shimmer

Stepping into the heart
Where the breath expands
Tears flow

Tears of pain,
joy filled tears
And tears evaporate

Towards the Sun.

 

© 2017 fieldpoet. all rights reserved.

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Edge

This poem is a meditation on individuality and the emotion of pondering the path ahead. It is also a meditation on the trajectory our human race is going, considering the destruction of the environment. Finally, zooming out further: organic life is in transition to biotech in context with the greater universe. Forgive my pseudo-spiritual, sci-fi brain. 

 

Human at the edge of the world

At the edge, sea monsters

 

Human at the edge of divinity

Where the Light begins

 

Humanity on the edge of plastic

Afloat on the suffocated tide

 

Humanity on the edge, reaching further

Holding darkness in our hands 

 

Life on the edge of life

Neurons partially organic

 

Life on the edge of exhalation 

When is the new tomorrow?

Rural

This one was written on a still, autumnal afternoon on a farm in KwaZulu Natal, South Africa. Surrounded by mountains, looking onto the Pongola River:

All the parts of green existence

And you at the centre

Each bird swooping beyond reach

But gliding through you

The leaf of each tree

Vibrant against open sky

Close to dog and flower and flea

A royal symphony

The Energy of Being

Inspired by David Whyte and his method of repeating lines when speaking his poems. He says poetry can also the language of mystical experience. That such poetry is designed to draw you into the experience of the poet. To be a vessel.

As you may know, I practice meditation. What follows is a poem inspired by a recent experience I had. So here is a poem, “become it” if you like:

The energy of being opens you

The energy of being opens

Beyond the spoken word the energy of being opens

It opens and shuts you

When the energy of being opens you

It tastes through you, It hears and feels

When the energy of being opens you

It becomes you

Let It become you, let It open you, let It shut you…

 

© 2018 fieldpoet. all rights reserved.

the falling rain

My son is 2 and notices his papa from time to time – Mama is the firm favourite. His boring papa that sits at the computer a lot, fiddling with the keyboard. So inane from the height of a 2 year old, so still. When it started to rain on the Saturday afternoon of the Easter Holidays my son coaxed me to go outside with him. “Experience the rain Papa”, he seemed to say. This is the poem:

as the raindrops fall
a little voice rises
the drops fall
his voice meets them

as the raindrops fall
his papa is beckoned
“come, come” it says
he knows the magic of water

as the raindrops fall
the lighted sky rumbles
and nature welcomes
knowing the precious moment

as the raindrops fall
the Easter wind gentle
an autumnal day cool,
each step effulgent

as the raindrops fall
the axis of life revolves
a kaleidoscope of green
“come, come” he says

this is the falling rain

 

© 2018 fieldpoet. all rights reserved.

Christmas and the gods

#passionpeopleplaces

 

Look over Pretoria they said. Look through the dust at the orange sunset! It is December and some of the dust has settled, most of Pretoria has emptied to the coast. We saw the orange of the last rays dramatic against the opalescent sky. Just my friends and I sharing a moment on the longest day, the Summer Solstice. The statue of Nelson Mandela, with his arms outstretched, blessing the nation like the orange rays bathing the gun-metal clouds.

Gun-metal clouds. Gun. Metal. Who would have thought that we South Africans are continuing Madiba’s long walk to freedom? He has handed the baton over to us. It is as if guns and their miss-use are the symptom of a turbulent nation and metal is what we need to become to continue our rise out of oppression into democracy. From separation to integration of our diversity. We must reach deep within, over and over, to find the strength to keep on walking. To find our Metal.

Living in Pretoria I have seen the marches, heard the singing, participated in the protest. I have felt the “toyi-toying”, felt the Harley club as their bikes rumble past. The refugees, street kids and cavalcades. There is a stillness to be experienced in the centre of all this activity, it grows stronger the more you let it, the more you meditate. Until it reaches the point where it draws you into it like on That Day, the Longest Day, when my friends and I were suspended in the stillness of the evening. All one colour, one people, in the twilight savouring what it means to be alive on African soil.

I have a new powerchair, it is my legs, and it purred like a big cat as it moved steadily up the steep hill that leads from the Administrative Capital. Sir Herbert Baker, who designed the Buildings, commented that this rolling landscape reminded him of Greece. Atlas and Hermes adorn the domes of the buildings.

These gods walked home with me and one of my closest friends that night – past the dark silhouette of Jacaranda trees. They told us to look deeper than politics, farther than this moment in time. They told me about the miracle that is life, the vastness that is the universe. My closest friend at my side is touched by chronic pain, but he is more than that. I am in a wheelchair, but I am more than that. This Christmas time, the gods told me, breathe deeply and vibrantly, and let your heart rejoice.

© 2017 fieldpoet. all rights reserved.

Immersed

“Everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives” Carl Sagan wrote “on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.” This poem is a tribute to the brilliance of that sunbeam, and the deepening of that brilliance during Meditation.

Immersed in shimmering.

Like the ocean, slippery with fish

And creatures, some kill, others expand

All in One Life

 

 

© 2017 fieldpoet. all rights reserved.

Wild Embrace 

In the country, a day after heat and dry wind, a cold front arrived. The day of the long awaited wedding with so much preparation it is cold and wet. The wind whistles through the mountains and trees. This poem is dedicated to this day


Open space

And wind

Expanded heart into mountains

Blue haze

Undulating green

Like breasts, beckoning 

Unstoppable force 

Awakened elements

Swirling together as in a cauldron

A fine broth

Seasoned and served

To wedding guests

Nature’s face

Her dark limbs

Blessed are those who can see

Power and liquid joy

Streaming down

With wild embrace 

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