Entrance

Culture births Language
a Cyclic Pulse
driven by the rhythm
as the story's told

Gather children round
gather children listen
Sacred ceremony
builds the temples of tradition

Listen with the Heart
for Love knows no judgment
instincts often overshadowed
by mental corruption

Planetary confinement
exists only in the mind
Who taught us live was lived
in Gregorian time?

We wear clothes out in the street
change in other people´s eyes
but these coats of many colors
cover truth unverbalized

Dreaming, Dreaming, Dreaming
Remember now
Humans weep on Earth
Rain Gods weep in clouds

Dance home with me Brethren
surrender to the flow
set down your swords and spears
no need to shield the Soul

Shower the Saints and Spirits
with childlike affection
all forms of existence
are threads of perfection

Rise up the Chi
aware of the breath
feel through the Chakras
gentle warm depth

Slip away, Slip away
Mind fully clear
Melt away, Melt away
Oneness
                 is
                      Here

Grandfather

The last drops of a heavy rain trickle off the tin roof as Father Sun greets the Mother Lake. Roosters crow in anticipation, raggedy dogs cry in the street, and Grandmother Moon waxes in the blue sky as the jungle birds carry on Earth's song. A song so powerful, so complex, it takes all of creation to sing it into being.

The Mother Lake's deep turquoise water rests under Her Daughters, three densely forested volcanoes, and the surrounding cloud-covered mountain range. Patches of maíz and flowers of every essence enlighten the green hills. Tucked in between the Mother Lake and the mountains is where the forgetting-remembering humans dwell. Wispy smoke rises from their concrete pueblos, tortillas hot on comals, and the day is born.

The women sit in the market place, bartering and selling, teaching the younger women through action and word. Their vibrant, distinguished clothing emanates centuries of earth-taught wisdom. They chatter in native dialect until a viajero arrives and the tongue flows into Spanish.

The old men sit in their hand-carved cayucos, patiently waiting for hungry fish to bite, while the middle-aged men climb the mountain paths in pursuit of firewood. Those with small plots of land work the fields for harvest: corn, cucumber, carrot, squash, potato, peanut, melon, banana, avocado, cacao, and other bountiful gifts.

Tuc-tucs hum in the street, joining the pitter-patter of sandaled feet, and church music floats in the air. Children of God are everywhere. Some are in school. Some are apprenticing with elders. Some work in local tiendas. Some fly makeshift kites. Others wander and wonder, seeking something to spark the senses. Each is learning in his or her own way, in his or her own time.

I sit silently, entranced in the moment, listening with my heart. Forgetting yesterday, forgetting tomorrow, remembering to be here now.

Lago Atitlan

Fear

Smoky storm clouds
pour into volcanoes
as sunset illuminates the Mother Lake

The Gods shake and groan
electrifying the air
in silence

A pittar patter
of steady raindrops
pounds the earth
like sandaled feet on the run

Are you afraid
when the mist rolls in?
Do you close your eyes, or
do you walk through
the doorway of darkness
trusting the light?

A Letter to My Brother

I miss being with you
Your smile
Your beautiful eyes
Your vibrant presence
Your determined, blissful spirit

I miss the way you practice yoga
the way you meditate

How you sit in silence

The way you eat
and the way you pray
Your prayer
Your lengthy Mayan prayer
that feeds the spirits and
keeps the world alive

I miss hugging you, holding you
dancing with you, weeping with you
listening to you speak

I miss speaking to you
knowing you are there to listen,
not to judge
Not caring if you do judge
because the momentary judgment means nothing
in the presence of our divine love

Thank you for challenging me, for comforting me
for revitalizing my spirit and
reconnecting me with the Most High

I am thankful and honored to be
your twin brother
I am thankful and honored that
our kinship runs deeper than blood
into the depths of wonder and
the realms of spirit

I love you, David
May Jah bless your journey with
abundant sunshine and
cleansing rain


Long Life, Honey in the Heart, No Evil, Thirteen Thank Yous
Brother Garrett

Oneness

simply being

present

open eyes

mirror

reflection

Appearance

Barely awake
Passing judgement
on all of creation
My ego enjoys
this imaginary throne

Desire

Tears shower the earth
like stars in a moonless night
as the river of grief
flows through my body
I sit and weep
Longing to feel
the breath of the goddess
Longing to see her face

Spirals

Creation of polarization
Revolutionaries and the material elite
Endlessly pulling outward
on imaginary strings of emptiness

In this eternal tug of war
masks and motives change
The dance
ever the same

Freedom

Unclench the mind´s grip on time to free the eternal soul from starvation.

Dawn

Sunrise over illusion

Thoughts slowly shifting

Music

Here we are

Dusk

Sporadic thought caught in a tangled web

Eternal struggle with imprinted pattern

Grasping for air

Afraid to let go

...Breathe...

¨This world is going to go on, with or without you...¨

So while I am alive I am going to dance. I´m going to sing, climb mountains, run around. I´m going to write poetry, sleep in a tent, practice yoga, and sit in silence. And I´m going to share. I´m going to share all these things that keep me alive. And, if you´re into it, maybe we can rejoice and honor this wonderful, incomprehensible existence together.

Hermana

I feel you in the depths of my soul
Far beyond where words can reach
In the divine vibration where love resides

What God asks of Man

Thank me in your presence
Thank me by looking me in the eyes and
     listening when I speak
Build me a sanctuary
     so I may dwell within you

The Elders Speak

"It's good to see your faces again,
It's good to feel your breath again.
We the eight hundred shimmering
Forgetters, the big trees and big vines
Do not forget you, our new
Fruit, whose seeds will
Be our remembrance planted in the
Deep humus of our passing.
We do not forget you,
We do not abandon you."


Tzutujil Mayan prayer

Vision

See through the fear of tears unwept
A whole village cries out
"Feed people, Serve people"