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Weekday Alarm

I am anxious
as my 5:30 beeping alarm
grows defiantly louder,
reminding me of surreal difference
between asleep, longing for better days awake,
and,
now awake,
longing for more sleep
struggling toward alarming predawn buttons
to release from this first crisis
for depressing life’s day-rousing alarms.

I wish for a more therapeutic,
more leisurely,
more retiring way to awake,
if I truly must.

Nearby,
my son who cannot speak
or walk,
but hears just fine,
sleeps on.
Eyes closed.
Dimple mischievously appearing in full moon’s light.

What could be his difference
between light unconsciousness of competing spoken day
and dark consciousness of cooperating listening night?

And is this so very different
from vast humane majorities of nations,
who speak too much by day to listen
and listen too briefly at night
to speak of dreams we might share
arising once again together
toward depressing buttons of despair
for this another alarming Earth Day.

This Earth day
with too many speaking half asleep
to future invitations;
Earth nights
listening back to this internal nap half awakened
by past convocations
of memory as light
forgetfulness through therapeutic dark night.

My muted son,
though hardly silent,
as he can be a loud red-charging bull
yet in a peaceful playful warrior way
to those who believe we know
his inside sleep
showing through his outside wake
to share Earth’s daytime communion.

He and I
are equally invisible
indivisible
undiscriminated by night
and, I suppose,
both using light
to brighten differences
between inside me
and outside not yet,
not still
double-bound somehow
like outside views
impossible without inside longings
to remember our shared inside-outside intentions.

Wishes and fears,
hopes and angers,
loves and hates unraveling by predative day
arisen from our warm dry beds
of praying affluence.

Longings and belongings,
seductions and reductions,
inductions and deductions,
terrible investments and terrific divestments
calculated reweavings by dualdark night
within our Earthly rest
from fully individuating difference.

The alarm still echoes
through my half awake ears
as I stumble before dawn’s light
toward remembering how to become an enabling parent
taught by disabling children of love.
Recalled to how we might awake to love each other more
before this night’s rest reweaving Paradise.

I am anxious
as I depress my alarming button,
a toggle switch icon
transitioning anxieties of sleep
through opportunities of life together
awake.

My son turns over
toward his wall of darkening comfort
as he prepares to dream
our Therapeutic Warrior songs
and dances
once again.
His prayers rise dimpled within me.

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Uncategorized

Waking Up Despair

Waking up to despair,
sadness,
bone-tired at war with a beeping alarm clock,
an alarming list of immediately urgent responsibilities
without an opportunity in sight,
or at least not this first despairing fright,
at end of night.

If this sounds familiar
as at least your normal Monday through Friday,
you probably need a better way toward bed
the night before.

Most likely, earlier.

But also,
even for many with mindfulness practices,
disciplines
with their own short and long-term rewards
for both natural and spiritual health,
remembering gratitude
is our interior face
of grace’s exterior face,
or karma’s exterior influences,
or love’s potential winners winning
full circle in theory,
yet too anemic during this dreaded alarm clock time.

If yours is solely a morning contemplative practice,
after you wave the kids off to school,
after the gym or the run,
after the personal hygiene,
it is already too late
to optimize your opportunity
to wake up with least claustrophobic despair
and most expansive hope
building toward faith
that this day just might be even better
than yesterday,
as utterly remarkable as yesterday appeared
as you were mindfully drifting off to sleep
perhaps even before greeting GrandMother Moon’s
new through full repeat performances.

She’ll be here all week,
visible and sometimes invisible,
guarding your restorative rights and responsibilities
toward regenerating tomorrow’s realistic gratitude
for renewed opportunities
to brush your teeth,
and greet each child and significant other,
to notice if these wake with a smile
toward this day,
or with a scowl
for lack of sleep
or a good dream interrupted,
and recognizing how this is two ways
of saying one important not yet thing
which can build toward despair,
and further lack of more therapeutic dreams.

It is an important personal and also political choice
to prepare for sleep
repairing for tomorrow’s grace
or in dread against our memories of grace’s lack,
apparent absence,
persistently stuck issues
too overwhelming to think or feel our way out of,
through,
beyond.

These are important items for evening contemplation too.
But, when I am making my lists,
I start with minuses,
drift off counting my appositional pluses.
They are both there
within us
if we can choose restorative faith
after our lights turn out.

In this sense
we can choose our karma,
our awareness of positive and negative grace.
Love’s tones of restorative therapy
and retributive punishment,
if not yet quite overwhelming gratitude,
also not awakening to further despair
from chronic days of self with other abuse and neglect.

I continue having a dream
that the night everyone in military-industrialized cultures
drifts off feeling graced with opportunities
to become and do every cooperative thing we can
to guarantee Earth’s future of healthy exterior climates,
that is the night before our first morning
arising together
without overwhelming internal competing despairs.

Faith that this restorative therapeutic day
could unfold no less grand
than this dream we shared
our polypathic
demilitarizing
dis-industrializing
less exhausting night before.

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Our Not-So-Noisy Nest

We don’t sound right.

Too left-brained I hope

better balance might cool our home

relationships

lives

words

as richly dense Eternal Moment compost

feeds diversely rooted populations.

 

Lake’s surface ripples with

leaf blowers whining

jets roaring overhead

cars exhaustively streaming by

like cheerless tears of toxic bubbles.

 

Beneath

before

this vaporous high pitched system

still lives mountainous resonant joy.

Birds still tweet,

not just people,

rivers trickle and spray white noise

ocean surf still ebbs and flows

within our circulating systems.

 

Our hearts and lungs and minds

remember catholic lotus root systems

recall bisonic natural sync between

nature made commodious spirit lakes

reflecting

revealing

flowering

EarthTribe discovered Orthodox Tao mountain tops

natural tree-lined valleys in

regenerative systemed (0) core Prime Relationship

of left-brained Yang remembering

Yin’s true value as

polynomial is non-polynomial reversed

is binomially balanced

compassionately deep lake reflecting mindful mountain

dynamically harmonious dance of

peaceful twinkling

rippling

lapping

laughing thermonormative warm and slow relationship.

 

Communication,

positive discernment,

our bicameral vocation’s peaceful yeasty nest racing

embracing

evolving

revolving

rhythming

beating

breathing

thinking

choosing

soaring through humanity.

 

But, quietly, please?

Some of us are trying not to sleep.

 

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