Over the years there were lots and lots of song lyrics. Occasionally a poem would pop out.
RELAX ©Les Julian (Bindu was our cat. He lived to be 23)
Relax body. Relax even more.
Let go. Let go of the stress imagined into you by the mind.
Remember. Remember the teaching of Bindu, the cat,
Who would hissssss and arch at his own reflection in the glass
And then
Less than a minute later
Be curled up asleep in a warm patch of sunlight.
RIPPLES ©Les Julian
The pond reacts to the stone!
There’s the splash and the ripples quickly radiate
In concentric circles.
Once begun, only allowing the ripples to fade
Will restore the pond’s smooth, placid, surface.
Another stone will only create more ripples.
The new splash, then new ripples
Intersecting, crisscrossing, redirecting, reshaping
The originals, forming into new, geometric patterns.
Try to smooth them over with your hands or tools of any kind
And, more ripples.
Try to contain them in any way, more ripples!
Trying anything creates more ripples…
Except trying nothing!
Allowing nothing to happen is the only action that works!
THE CHEF EXTRAORDINAIRE ©Les Julian
With the toxic memories of the past as it’s only ingredients, the mind, a chef extraordnaire
Slices and dices, cubes and chops, mashes, stirs and cooks reality into a stew over and over.
The past ends up on the menu as ‘Today’s Special’ every time.
When my mind is in the kitchen I keep eating my own past for dinner.
THE PRODIGAL SON ©Les Julian
WHEN,
FINALLY,
THE PRODIGAL SON REALIZES
HE IS NOT HIS THOUGHTS,
STILLNESS WELCOMES HIM HOME,
AND,
ALL OF EXISTENCE SINGS HIM HAPPY BIRTHDAY.
WHEN WERE YOU BORN? ©Les Julian
YOU are the birthday song and the ear that hears it.
YOU are the candle flame and the eye that sees it.
YOU are the wish and the wisher who wishes it.
YOU are the extinguishing breath and the lungs that blow it.
YOU are the smokey wisp and the nose that smells it.
YOU are the sweet taste of cake and the tongue that tastes it – YUM….
This knowledge is delicious! YOU know this…
So tell me,
when were YOU born?
BOXES ©Les Julian
All his life,
As long as I knew him
He lived in little boxes.
Boxes full of certainty,
Of rightness,
Of the cut and dried truth
Of what’s acceptable.
Of comfort,
And knowledge held hostage by it.
Boxes containing lots of criticism mostly aimed at others.
It’s easier that way, I guess.
No.
I know it is.
He was my brother and
I loved him from my own boxes,
Boxes I still project onto the neutral, pure white screen of the world.
I loved him and once again learned from him
When,
A few breaths away from his last one,
Energy all but gone,
Boxes no longer needed,
I was surprised when he said to no-one,
Finally,
“I don’t know what to do……………………….I don’t know what to do………”
ENLIGHTENMENT ©Les Julian
PAST, PAST, PAST, PAST, PAST, now,
PAST, PAST, PAST, Past, now,
PAST, PASt, Past, now,
Past, past, now,
past, Now
Now, NOw, past,
NOW, NOW, NOW, past
NOW, NOW, NOW, NOW, past,
NOW, NOW, NOW, NOW, NOW, past…ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…
FISH HOOK HAIKU ©Les Julian
- The first reaction’s
Free, if you use it to set
Yourself free, free, free!
2. The fish, caught before,
Sees the bait but does not bite
And swims away free.
3. The fish, caught before,
Seeing bait and hook within,
Lives to bite again.
4. To see, a grudge held,
Tightly in my fisted hands –
I can open them.
MORE HAIKU ©Les Julian
The orchid petals
Bloom, wilt and fall to the floor
In spite of my care.
My feet feel the sand
In moment to moment Now
My mind is no where.
Born, each a sand grain,
The irritations of life
Turn us into pearls!
Irritating life
Makes the sand-grains of ego
Into a soul-pearl.
As thinking subsides
And sensations are noticed
Being shows itself.
STILLNESS IS THE VOICE OF GOD
©Les Julian
“Stillness is the voice of God.”, That’s what the wiseman said.
But I heard within my mind reactive thoughts instead.
Stillness is the voice of God? What does that really mean?
Feverishly my mind filled up, scene after noisy scene.
In one, there was a child unable to sit still,
Misunderstood and staring by a window sill.
Then a young man walking, tears dripping from his eyes.
City sirens, horns and brakes footsteps and goodbyes.
Suddenly a church pew, flickering lights and mold.
Anguished prayers, clasping hands, stone and lead and gold.
A vigil in an ICU. The beeping of machines.
The whispering of shadows behind opaque screens.
Like a relentless action movie scenes paraded by.
Can’t say how long it lasted, can only say that I
Became aware that watching, was a part of me,
That is never touched by feeling, thought or memory.
A Witness that just watches, knowingly aware.
A silent, loving presence that is always there.
While attending to the presence a swollen, stillness leapt,
Consuming into nothingness the novice and adept.
When briefly my eyes opened the wiseman gave a nod,
For there, within the stillness I was the voice of God.