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Abyss of EarthTribe Bliss

Tears of joy
are so much sweeter
than tears
and fears of sorrow

Yet no more resonantly
or less dissonantly
salty

With EarthTribe’s life-giving womb
recreating
oceanic awe,

Deeply organic
whole-sum
wandering wonder.

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Wondering Thoughts

I wonder if heuristic,
tentative thoughts,
and ambiguous,
nebulous feelings,
coalesce, sometimes
into resonant knowing

In a personal
powerful
illuminating way
resilient hope of sharing
this round living Earth
with robust wildness
leaking out in between
relentlessly speaking words,
autobiographical lessons
never native learned

Thereby opening a passion
for searching communioned sacred doors
toward further nuance,

Recreating what we have lived to know,
to timelessly
yet ambiguously appreciate,
celebrate in awe
of this wilderness
we have always known
but could not, before,
articulate alone.

Nature’s living roundness
of healthy, robust Earth
grows never merely alone

Celebrating
yet challenging
peaceful and leisurely integrity,
lovely
perfect ease
of right felt
strong ecstatic left mindedness
under controlled

Like Mother
and newly freed newborn
struggling through wild co-attachment.

Like multicolored bands
of a bowed rainbow
assembling
and recomposing each miraculously unveiling other
in perfectly predictable progressive laws
of domesticated
conserving order,

Transculturing lucent symmetry
empowering sustained non-violent light
resplendently full of wilding
wondrous mystery

Remembered images
of fading
bewildering
wildly tentative thoughts,
and ambiguous,
nebulous feeling
wilderness, sometimes
recreative knowing
this from which
we derive
arrive
strive
more consciously alive.

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Wanted: Master of Awe and Wonder

From birth,
I,
and perhaps others
from rebirth,
seek a spiritual master

With profound male maturity
to connect spiritual mastery
with natural sensory mastering events,
narratives,
non-verbal
and verbal relationships
bonding
double-binding
birthing
and rebirthing co-passionate story,
mundane
and cosmic events
integrally felt and known together–
impossible apart

With mature disciple
disciplined reception
masterfully given
potential for mutual pleasure
to please me,
compassion’s please
pleasing perpetual integrity,

A journey from local
through global,
back
and forth,
in
and out,
rising
and falling again

Immensely deep
and dark
wide multiculturing explosions,
preferred master powers
imploding copassionate integrity,

Of felt sensory awareness,
sensually touched consciousness
spiritually grasping enlightenment
sexually gracing co-empowerment.

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The Rabbi’s Awesome Mother

She associated awe with unvoiced age.

Her son often enthused
about awesome tech-paced change,
empowering opportunity,
but, for her,
youth is an age for voicing wonder
as elders remember awesome quiet connection
back with memoried Time.

She found elder awe memories,
structures,
originating imprints,
in trees from humble
yet awesome nuts and seeds,
formed back in timeless forests

Where nutritional root systems
meet yang-strong trunks,
boldly growing toward sunlight,
flirting quietly with moonlight’s fertility
starring light shining our way
from how many awesome staring years ago?

Now enlightening her empowered wonder
about this sensory sexiness
of trunks on root systems
so old she can’t quite recall

How could time carve hoary beds
with rivers of resilient water
flowing down Time’s journey
from wondrously young
toward awesome complex landscapes
of connection
re-connection
volition
revolution
solution
resolution
passion
co-passionate secular communication,
sacred communion.

Maybe if she goes on wondrous line
and writes about these awesome Times
they will become both more musically beautiful
and reconstructed true,

More passionately ageing together
with respect for Earth’s revolving
gorgeous flowing wisdom
and joy for multi-sectored
strong true handsome.

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Permacultural Grace

I wonder what it means
we are a multicultural species
still capable of waging war,
employing ballistic terrorists,
investing in capitalism’s ruthless game
of surgical monopoly
to become patriarchs of bloodied mountains,

This feels related,
perhaps co-arising,
with inability to distinguish
an ecology of natural grace
from an efficient economy of spiritual just rewards,

Ego’s self-righteous returns
for prudent win/lose strategic investment
in owning Earth,
pieces of the property pie,
and renting human secularized resources
by the mundane weekday hour,
or contractual time-clock year

Leaving behind jubilee years
hopes and tears
and sabbaths
for those naturally deprived
and spiritually poor;
meat to feed future real-world war machines.

Victories and defeats in war,
terror,
shouting-matches,
strategic aggression against maligned characters,
colonizing predation,
political and religious monopolization
of win/lose investments
in overpowering persuasion–
These can all be earned,
but not graced.

Love,
life,
health,
natural/spiritual hybrid wealth,
awe,
compassion,
gratitude,
kindness,
mercy,
cooperativity,
synergy,
regenerativity,
integrity,
restoration,
resonance,
healing,
co-redemption,
communion–
These are signs and wonders,
powers and co-arising principalities
of wondrous grace,
and cannot be earned
or reductively unlearned.

What could be evolving purpose
in outrageously degenerative wars,
deliberate intent to terrorize
and counter-terrorize,
hate,
oscillating cycles of anger and fear,
evil humors
and cynical financial investments
against each sacred Other,
against Earth’s habitual health?

What could be revolving meaning
in ecosystemic wealth
of co-passionate powers,
religions of polycultural kindness,
multicultures of cooperative integrity,
Earth’s sacred economies
of permaculturing grace?

 

 

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Embedded SpringTimes

Perhaps we all secretly long
to be embedded in perpetual spring time.

My most entertaining pre-pubescent memories
of spring’s most sacred times,
when occasionally left
to my own leisurely adventurous pursuits
outside for further natural/spiritual embedded nest

Include a warm and sunny afternoon
unfolding on Saturday’s mid-western stage,
going to a pond
waiting on the edge of wild
lying on my belly
with my nose nearly touching

Her still surface waters
watching spiders
walk over Her
polliwog organic submarines
waving
going somewhere fins
propelling, with me,
into our Saturday afternoon
nutritional adventures
embedded in feeding FlowSource
well-being entertainments.

Another spring Saturday,
perhaps closer to full pubescent
FlowSource entertaining feelings,

I ran far back into the RoundField
where I knew a solitary MotherTree,
like me,
busy getting dressed up
in Her fulling spring leaves
while I unbusily removed all my clothes
and climbed Her
full body hugging Her trunk,
embracing and thanking each sturdy
warm-used limb
all my forceful way to Her most sacred top

To look and feel together
across this green alfalfa field
with all surrounding trees
a deeply fertile ocean forest
green-radiant slumbering mysteriously back at us,
this happy solitary FlowSource
MotherTree and ResourceMe
unseen WinWin feeling together triumphantly
becoming Be

Indigenously embedding entertainments,
Memories much richer and deeper and older
yet naked and wider and younger
than anything I ever heard or saw mid-winter
coming from inside black and white TV.

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Sacred Presence

Few who have listened and watched through triumphant birth
and decomposing death
doubt these are most sacred events.

When did all experience in-between
become a sufficiently secular journey
necessarily devoid of unrealistic wonder and awe,
divine curiosity,
and holy wholesome courage?

To live for and with Earth solidarity
listening and watching sacred birth of dawn
and holy death of ultra-violet
non-violent dusk.

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Clumsy Cousins

I wonder if THC
and our Holy Cooperative Spirit
could be cousins
like Grandmother Moon
and Grandmother Tree.

Why do you want to wonder
about something as curious as that,
dear?

Oh, I don’t recall, really.
It just came up in conversation a few minutes ago.

Honey,
your breakfast is still a figment of your hopeful imagination,
so who on Earth were you conversing with a few minutes ago?

I was in the backyard
talking with the trees,
and the extended family question just came up.

Honey,
when you take your morning meds,
and then go out to your sit spot
and talk to the trees…

Yes?

Would you do me a favor?

What’s that?

Would you listen more,
and invoke curses against climate hate-mongerers
and malingerers
less?
You scare our more pedestrian neighbors.

But I was listening.
The trees were talking
in their windbown surfing voices
of autumn colored breeze
swaying like Green Fairy SkyWoman

Blessing each falling leaf
spinning tales
revolving moral compasses
drifting from win to lose
coming to rest where they first gave birth,

Blessed by Grandmother Moon’s ultra-violet rhythms
lights
and dual dark dilemmas,
mystery,
everyday awe
expecting sacred wonder.

Oh, well then,
I was wondering why you were so quiet out there…
So, what’s your plan for today?

I thought I might plant more trees.

Want some company?

If we both listen more,
and ask impatient questions less.

Planting already faithful saplings
or merely hopeful seeds
of co-relationship?

Depends on how long we care to be remembered
for our civil kindness,
green cooperative intent,
revolutionary winning trees and winning people values
norms
voices natural and spiritual
bilaterally spinning democratic energy,
healthy merits and unhealthy demerits,
regenerative plantings more than degenerate uprootings,
climate health supplanting wealth of disease,
unease,
dissonant disassociating trees.

Dearest,
I’m having trouble following some of your connections.
Do you think that’s the THC
or Holy Cooperative Spirit whispering?

Yes, love.

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An Amusing Music Muse

I suspect I’m more interested in how Sondheim writes music
than the Beatles,

Although I have no information
to support this paltry hypothesis

Much less could I justify to patient well-versed you
why I also suspect
this tells me something about who I am

And vocationally about who I am meant to be
as a gospel communicating person,
a transporting soul
sharing sung enchantments.

Does linguistic content
inform mystery’s melodic message?

Or do melody and rhythm
reign before shaping
unfolding ecological
psychological
theological lyrics?

Or all of these sacred ingredient voices
speaking with secular integrity
Above?

Deep love learning below

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Compromising Lives

“Living here can be compromising”
says Dad to Danny
in a John Irving novel.

Isn’t that our universal truth?

Living here is a compromising series of on-purpose accidents.
Living is compromising
with mortality heavily favored to win out,
maybe short-term,
maybe later.

But these odds
between two categories
switch places
between eight looking toward sixty-four,
and sixty-four looking longingly back toward eight,
measuring all small and large compromises
erupting through serenity
in-between.

Wonder
is just taking a time out
to notice the last clematis blossom
is exactly the same color
as the purple mums
hiding behind her.

Wonder
is taking a moment
as no more or less perfect
just as it is,
a snapshot
between where we have come
since Earth was growing glaciers
to when Earth may, eventually, pass on.

A moment
perfectly balanced
in full-color octaves
of sight
and sound
and smell
and savory taste
of spectral Wonder.

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