Sipping Tea with Buddha and Christ : Listen Closely I Am Whispering

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Listen Closely I Am Whispering

For MaryAnn Lazzarini
2.28.2002

Listen closely
I am whispering
I am the stillness of the breeze
I am the trees
I am everything.

I am the warmth of the sun
the serenity of night
I am the light
I am everything.

I slow dance with the moon
rock the mountains to sleep
I do not weep
I am in everything.

I am the eagle's wings
I am the sandy shore
I hurt no more
I am everything.

I soar, I dance, I sing,
I am everything.

Listen closely for
I am only whispering.

A Bit about Me

For all the times when words seem the only way to share the matters of my heart, I have this blog. Mostly I'm a humanitarian, just a writer from time-to-time, a hopeless romantic too. I'm newly married to the most amazing woman, hence the shared title of "mother" of 3 dogs, 2 cats, triplet Nigerian goats, a duck called Walter, and enough hens not to name. My first work of creative non-fiction, Sipping Tea with Buddha and Christ was published in July, 2013. I contribute monthly to Upgraded Living Magazine and when the muse arrives, to this blog. You can catch me on KZFR 90.1 on certain Thursdays. I teach at CSUC and spend the rest of my time running a sweet little Foundation called North Valley Community Foundation (www.nvcf.org) whose mission is kindred to my own - to do the good we can while we can, when grace allows it. I'd love to hear from you. Contact me through Facebook anytime.
With love.

Mother's Womb

On The Shores of Lago De Atitlan

And so this journey began
a million sunrises before
my mother's womb,
when paved roads were dust
and cities - mudhuts.
Centuries before 'This',
and before 'That' too.
But please don't think for a moment
not even the lesser of a second,
that I might dress up words
and speak on such a matter

"Gracias a Dios" I know the better.
So, let me return to the beginning
for that's how this story begins.
It was a million sunrises before my mother's womb,
and I can say one thing for certain-
something, somewhere was born,
and it birthed another.
And another.
And somewhere on this path towards forever,
sometime between
(perhaps during spring)
we each appeared.
Here.
Where this collective dream took form.

[Resting on the shores of Lago De Atitlan. '03]