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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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 

Parenthood

Being a parent is like being soil to a plant. You are there, always. Your child’s life increases because they draw on what you give them. But, like soil, you remain, rightly, omitted and hidden.

We are the soil
His growth wrapped in our warmth
Our substance his life
Until the sun returns
Attractive, radiant, beckoning
As a fragrance on a summer breeze
Our fragrance forgotten
Then exposed as life
Breaks us open
And he leaps forwards
We are the soil
Out of us, his life
Within us, darkness

 

© 2017 fieldpoet. all rights reserved.

Sometimes

This poem is about a walk my wife, son and I made to the farm gate in rural Kwazulu-Natal, South Africa. The evening was sacred and it was the first major walk he had accomplished as a 1 year old. This can only be expressed in a poem.

 

sometimes the days hangs in stillness
the evening is its depth
and there is movement like a flower growing

sometimes a moment pulses gently
not wanting to be seen, heard – only felt
and there are footstep, small and uncertain

sometimes that quiet presence pulls you in
yet the child sees all
and your child discovers a new life

sometimes that child is not yours
delicate as a fragrance in twilight
and that child stands beyond your reach,

where you cannot go.

 

© 2017 fieldpoet. all rights reserved.

The Robin

What follows is a dream I had a few years ago, I’ve posted it for prosperity.

Dreamed I had a small robin as a pet, we were close friends. I really loved the little bird. I went away with family and was standing at a river. The river looked like the Thames through London. It was a natural scene but London skyline was close.
I let the bird to fly to the closest tree , then whistled and it flew back. Felt so much love for it and the simplicity of nature Then I let it fly further away and whistled and it flew back.

The third time it flew much further away. When I whistled it didn’t come back.
I was extremely sad. I wondered if she had found new friends, more like her. I turned around to look for it and immediately found myself lost in a casino city, felt a heavy feeling of prostitution.  Such was the juxtaposition.

 

© 2016 fieldpoet. all rights reserved.

Wind and husks

A building close to where I live was demolished. There were droves of people there to watch, many of them videoing the spectacle. I decided a poem would stay with me for longer.

White smoke and thunder
Is a show for folk
Who gather in droves
To grab a peek

A crumbling building
Raized to the ground
In one giant dust cloud
Clapping resounds

The bell struck 12
A death knell to bricks
Destroyed to make way
To something new, Something hip

Till one day that hip building
Will also be dust
Rising high in the sky
For wind and husks

© 2017 fieldpoet. all rights reserved.

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