I used to think
That to find the truth
I had to mine
The self
For the original sin,
That first crime
Where I walked away
When I should have
Remained,
That first step I took
Outside of myself
Which split me
And delivered
All the subsequent pain.
And perhaps there is truth there
But also
Such a long time
Using the fragmented mind
In an attempt to fix itself,
Yet finding
Only a collage
Of disappointment
And recurring dreams
Of regret.
Now, I do not mine
But sit here relaxed
Without the need
For cause and effect,
Holding loosely
A mild indifference
To symptoms
And that great causal defect
That the mind
Made into
An unwinnable game.
Perhaps there is a partial truth
In searching out that
Primordial shame
Locked in a deep pit
Beyond the scope
Of finding.
But perhaps
The greater truth
Remains
In the full heart
That bears
All that could ever
Come to pass,
All found
In its witnessing.
For the greater truth
Lies in love
In open love
That always looked
Without flinching
In freeing love
That brings the greater truth
Of love’s
Acceptance
Of everything.
God Came
God came
In the form of a breeze
And played with dry leaves
For a curling moment.
Then He came
As my brother
Wearing a frown,
Dragging his ego
Like a regal gown
Yet muddied
With the whole of history.
Next, He came as emotion
Stirred in my chest
And triggering
All sorts of reaction.
He came
And He went
In form’s motion
Yet all the while
He stayed
Smiling
At everything various
And stretched between
Poles
Far and near
But remaining here
Ever-present
While all else
Played
Like the breeze
Among the crisp leaves
In the curling moment.
Path
Brother,
Stand unashamed
In the truth
Of your enquiring self.
You are he
Who must ask questions
To quench his thirst.
You cannot fight
Your birthright
Or the way
You are in the world.
Rest in this knowledge
That the path is right,
And your place on it
Is where you must be.
There is a deep truth
In acceptance
Of all
That you are
And all you have taken on.
Only this
Will see you transformed
And untransformed.
How you are
Is the truth
As it stands
In the moment.
There is sweetness here
Even while bitterness
Is tasted.
There is great freedom
To be powerless
Before God
To be as He is
To be as He is.
Feng Shui
In the house
is
space
and objects
on the shelf
and furniture placed
but
mostly space
as if
each object
was a pointer
to that
which held
it
safe
as if
subtle space
had traded place
with form
to be
the
more important
thing
and that
which calls
attention
to
itself
allowing
all
the stands proud
to find its home.
Before All Else
To share
The sunshine of the heart
Is to find
The sun upon your face
And bliss
In basking
In its beauty.
For around each corner
Is a smiling face
Reflecting joy,
Both playful and loving,
And each new corner
Yields still more of the same
Infinite quality.
Can you imagine
A world
In which the heart
Is worn naked
And transparent
In the body,
And everywhere
There are flowers
Glowing
In adoration of the sun?
Well, this IS the world
In which the heart
Finds its place in plenty
And where the mind
Has settled down.
This IS the world
Into which we are born
Through the tool of the body,
Knowing the grit and dank
Of the soil
And yet also
The ineffable reality
From whence we all come.
How could we not share
This truth
Made of light and love,
Beyond the bounds of space
And time
And all we deem heavy?
How could we not share
This warm and tender truth
Of happiness
God-given to us all
As life
Found effortless
Just like the sun
And the flowers -
And really
All forms under
The light loved down.
How could we not share
The sharing
That brought us to ourselves
And to the boundless
And to the truth
That we are love
First
Love first
Before all else.
Tick Tock
Tick tock
You cannot stop
Scrolling
Your
Time away
Tick tock
You cannot stop
Endlessly consuming
The slop
Tick tock
Tick tock
Tick tock
You cannot stop
Images
Rolling
And scrolling
In and infinite loop
Never giving
Enough of what you need
Tick tock
Tick tock
You cannot stop
Giving you life
To the machine
That feeds
And feeds
And feeds
From your attention
But never returns a thing
Tick tock
You cannot stop
Tick tock
You cannot stop
Scrolling – a cautionary tale
It seems such an innocent
Picking-up-of-the-phone
A moment of boredom
Fleed from -
The first video watched
Then a second
Then the endless stream
Of promises never kept -
Searching mind
Looking for the end of a rainbow.
To disengage
Is like tearing our sticky eyes
From the screen’s magnetic touch
As we pop back into the real world,
Shocked at how far we fell
Under its influence.
Someone conceived
This hand-held drug,
Intended the capture
Of the mind,
Wished the restless hand
Fidget for the scrolling picture
Which feeds on emptiness
And delivers more of the same.
Casually, we’d say
What’s the harm in it?
And yet all of us know
That half the walking world
Are caught in the phone,
And scare even look where they go.
It’s as if an evil hypnotist
Had created a magic device
Into which he bid us all look,
Yet, hid the dire cost;
His corporate wish
To enslave us to his corporate tool
And make us forget
The route home,
Calling us to climb into our phones
And never look back.
Forget your bodies, he says,
You no longer need them.
Rose
Some are green buds
Barely begun
But pushed
By the weight of the universe
To become
First the pursed lips
Of an imminent kiss,
Then the ripe indulgence
Of a beauteous flower
Generous scent
Wished to all,
Then loose
With joy
As petals relax and fall
Scattered like confetti
Abandoned
As the church bells toll
Marking the ever-passing moment
Of celebration.
Equals In Seeing
You cannot really share the light.
It does not travel
from here to there
from you to me
or me to you
as if there was
some sort of ownership
and transference.
But you can rise to it -
find the frequency
of yourself
attune to the light
in another
which is only
the light of yourself
and be
the light you are.
For all
are equals in seeing
equals in light
equals in being
and there are none among us
without this divine capacity
to be
and live
and love
in truth.
http://bentruesdale.substack.com
Come find me at Substack
The Precipice
Could it be
That the great precipice,
That peril conceived,
The fall from form feared
Is but an invitation
From fear itself
To ward you from the truth
That the cliff is no cliff
From which you must jump,
But instead
Is the gentlest slope
Like the soft sand
Of a gorgeous beach
Where a warm sea
Reaches to meet your feet
And invite you in
To something so vast
That all your worries
Would dissolve
Into the whole loving truth
That what is you,
What is real and true,
Recognises itself.
–
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