Archive for the ‘AAA – Recommended’ Category

2013-12-06 – Dear Sister

Wednesday, December 11th, 2013
 
Dear Sister, I know you tried to grow.
   In the early days, I was deeply awe struck by your struggles. 
So much more sincere than my own dilettante musings.
   You opened me up then to the meditation room's quiet seeking
      and inspired me to make my own questing real.

I was a rough seeker; just a blunt Irishman with dreams
   far too simple to be afraid to open any door, if I could but find it.

And, in your chair beside me, you burned with dedication
   and called in the voices and the truth; session after session.
How many hours of channeling flowed through your conduit
   how many times there did you open my eyes?

Looking back now across the years and all that has happened since,
   I see what an unequal struggle it was for you.

You began so much more encumbered than I.
   Your childhood, your Karma, your inflexibilities, your isolation,
      your anger, your hurt and all your deep distrusts.

They walled you in even as you spent so many hours 
   seeking to break through.
They blocked you 
   even as you burned for release.

You sat in that chair with fierce will and dedication
   and you held the vision of the highest good for all concerned.
You read Seth and pondered the mysteries locked inside T.S. Eliot's poems
   and you filled the house with the symbols and sounds of many traditions.

And yet, Dear Sister, you've arisen from that chair un-transcendent, 
   un-opened, un-humbled and still essentially believing 
that only your will, only your hard-won defenses, only your way, 
   only your opinions and only your disdain, strength and anger could protect you.

All of these I can see now betrayed you.
    They were the very walls that kept you from breaking through.
Sweet Sister, what you tried to achieve through acts of will and dedication
   can never be done; save through the erosion of all that you held to make you safe.

There is no growth without humbling, 
   no advance without disassembly, and no new becomings without unbecoming.
And only a deep and sincere choice to allow yourself to become porous 
   to all that has hurt you and all that you can feel 
      can free you from those things that impede your realization.

gallagher
06Dec2013

— Copyright 1965-2013 by Dennis Gallagher —

2014-09-14 – The Silver Birch

Sunday, September 14th, 2014
 
Light and shadow ... moving time,
life here - bursting from inanimate matter.

A small pool or mirror, I.

Colette told me that the buds on her White Birch tree
were just coming out
when she went in to have her first child.

And that, when she returned some days later,
with a new life in her arms,
the buds had turned to flowers.

And every year since, she and this tree have communed
in the memory of that day.

Such stories run in the literature I've read
and through the memories in my mind.

Stories of people whose entire lives were written 
within the seasons of the land they lived on.

Their lives rising and falling, rising and falling
through the eternal sunrises and sunsets
that swept across the fields they tended.

There were children born there
that played beneath those trees.

And they arose, lived and then became 
just the memories 
of those who live there now.
Now, amid the relentless turning 
of these endless years.

Our faces are growing older 
and fading in the mirrors now
as we witness all of this
again and again.

I grow more like a reflecting pool 
and less like a believer
as I look at all of those I love in this life
transiting through this life
and I see them, and I see all of us, 
as just passing through this place
like curtains in the wind.

Just living pools, reflecting ...
and mirrors of awareness, hoping ...

We are those, who realize, 
only towards the end of at all, if at all,
that we are the transient ones
on this stage of mystery.

gallagher
14Sep2014
Christchurch

— Copyright 1965-2014 by Dennis Gallagher —

2014-10-01 – The Dispossessed

Monday, November 24th, 2014
 
I'm not sure why my heart is broken open.

Music, a book, thoughts of kindness,
   all bring me to tears.
And I cannot tell
   if they are tears of joy or pain.
But I fill, suddenly, with poignancy and pathos
   until I overflow.

And I would not change it. 

This long road I've come here
   to see and to feel this life moving
      inside and outside of me; all one.

I thought tonight that there may be
   some door inside of me
that I can open by will to all of this
   until it flows clear like a river through me.

Speaking feeling, feeling truth
   becoming lost in the light
both creator and created as one movement
   giving myself to what I've sought.

To be the recipient and the door, both.

To burn through this life
   in the fiercest fire
consuming the very flesh
   of my Beloved's existence.

gallagher
01 Oct 2014
Christchurch, New Zealand

- after reading Ursula Le Guin's, The Dispossessed

— Copyright 1965-2014 by Dennis Gallagher —