costa rican contemplations


It’s different this time.

Somehow everything seems less innocent.

I eat coconuts and papayas, fresh banana bread and chocolate.

Drink coffee and boil water for drinking.

Look at spiders with out screaming.

Weather the bumps and bites without concern.

Asana everyday and meditation peeling away the layers of holding.

Making way for truth.

There is less magic and more life….

I am the same as all that surrounds me

not separate.

No longer informed by the void.

I can’t dissolve into all that I am

I already have.

I hear what I can’t see.

Ocean always calling….

never leading me astray.

 

4:34 am and I sing in the kitchen

to the moth that appeared last night.

Quietly my soul reaches from

inside.

Thru heart and calloused bone

to remind me of you.

You forever the moth

that appears as a message

from with in and beyond.

Some memory of why we came here

and that Love can play victim no more

to circumstance.

There is nothing left to cover it up.

And that rush toward rib cage

slowly builds…. as if there has been a rupture

inside and blood is mingling with knowing.

And I am filled.

For You.

Pictures of John and Yoko in bed

Angel tells me about Love

I rustle thru pages on the meaning

of home

Longing in this heart of many

Stillness gives way to infidelity

betrayal of senses

and return of blood

to a forgotten land.

Collide becomes

invitation

on the porch at 5 am.

 

Monkeys howl

as the shadow of night recedes.

No search for answers

but silence at dawn.

 

3 weeks ago

I wanted to leave,

every cell in my body

pushing for relief.

 

Today there is Wind

that moves the highest branches.

Last night I lay on the hardwood floor

listening to Rain, feeling the rush of air,

mesmerized by skin.

 

The paths that have widened

since my arrival,

showing more clearly what is outside

what is in.

The Punk and the Sublime

learn to ration

experience thru time.

I can say

there is much I don’t like

about the jungle.

The humidity
the ringworm, staph infection, and tick.
Smelling like unbaked bread…
The wildness in living that I’m unaccustomed to
-the tarantula on the fridge two nights ago
the snake eating the fog in Marc’s room
The things that bite that I have no name for.
Yet,
there is a youth here.
A vibrance that
in the desert is distilled
as if living is only a memory.
We grow younger
like the children of Pan.
Louder and more animated
We hear
the invitations of water
speaking thru land….
of the living.
The dreams arise.
Creatures bring wisdom…
Our lives give way to
living.
We cohabitate with the Sublime.
Bones
crushed
begin
to bare fruit.
Marrow thru skin
and bone
the mixture, the medicine,
the point of reference
the return.
The flesh to bones
that experience the staph,
the tick, the mosquitos and their kin.

Its hard to put into words thesemoments

Entering the kitchen at 3:38 am
slowly coming around the fridge
heading for the bathroom
silently checking the kitchen
for
toads, jungle mice, have the traps been sprung?
in the bathroom I search the floor and surrounding walls
bleary eyed for
scorpions, jumping spiders, the ants of unusual size
or any thing that my cause me to jump from
my seat.
Its 5:30
day breaks
today I’m let in.
I spill thru the screen windows
to the earth
a marriage of sea and sky.
The sound of footsteps
my mind,
not afraid,
convincing me
are aliens or banditos
mingles with the rooster who crows
at ever hour except dawn.
Cool air drops to earth
again begins to rise.
It is still in this sound.
This screen so bright its like peering
past worlds thru cosmos into a distant
solar system that could forget the
termite nests and cicadas even exist.
We mingle here in sound and sensuality.
With the worlds we came from and
all beings we encounter.
All here for the performance of this lifetime.
Not always knowing but feeling who are we
who we are meant to be.
All time fused… we stop pulling apart
the breathing from the truth.

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