X marks the spot in the sky,

But it’s a long ride to that space,

And there’s not a trace of Jacob’s ladder these days.

But what we can do is meditate 

On how far apart some places may be

And yet how close,

And the possibility that whatever the case may be,

How much room there is for you and for me to grow!

How our own requirements are met

By seeing we don’t have to fret because of what others do or have,

But you and I have so much room

To do and be 

That greed or envy should never find a way to enter in

To eat away at our joy,

Our creativity for making our own life grand.

An no one else can own our lanes,

The ones that straight-away connect

Each of our various beating hearts to that X in the place

That marks the spot where our treasure is.

-jenn

 We walk on the side of the mountain 

Bird song wraps around us tight

It builds a nest  to protect us

From the storm 

The bird song has a way of going out 

And coming in 

Brings us worms to eat 

And nourishes

Our souls

The bird song builds diamonds in the sky

We can see them, but not when we try

Only when we see that everything is going out and coming in as one thing 

And we are walking on the mountain side 

But we are the mountain 

We have come to ourselves and now we see

The bird song going out ahead of us

To protect us from all harm 

To create a space for us

A sacred space anywhere we go 

Where we can be happy and at peace 

No matter what

-jenn

 The yin and yang start out so clearly defined 

But is it the motion created within by their own polar design 

That they become so cleverly entwined 

That we cannot discern?

The very thing we say we hate,

By the time we take to point it out,

We’re actually pointing now at something we claim to love.

But why make claims?

Maybe it is our petty distinctions

That leave us deaf and dumb and blind

To the vitality that exists 

In the midst of opposites.

-jenn

 There was a spider in the sink,

And I was just a fly,

But in the time it took for me to think,

I had become entangled.

And try as I might,

I could not shake the association. 

And then, suddenly! divine intervention!

A human being entered the bathroom 

And turned on the light,

And then shrieked at the sight

Of a big hairy black spider

Struggling, now, to crawl

Against the striking white backdrop of the sink.

And she screamed again at the brash duality she perceived,

And called for her son,

Who came and turned the water on,

And the itsy bitsy one went down the drain.

But alas, did I hope in vain?

For just as surely, though just as surely an afterthought,

The one heel I had which was caught

Held fast

And drug me down the drain, struggling, too,

Striving but, at last,

To no avail.

Maybe in my next life I’ll return,

As anyone should

Who hasn’t learned:

All things are One.

And maybe I’ll realize I’m still a part of that spider.

But maybe the spider will return

As a beautiful blue heron who sings from the center of the river,

And maybe I will be the river 

That runs as a web of sparkling rivulets over his winsome feet.

-jenn

 Just as the veins carry the ore

Just as the capillaries touch every pore 

Just as the rains wash every corner of the sky

These tears cleanse my eye from pain 

These tears reach out to see the joy of life again

They find the light

And express it to me 

They encourage my heart to be free from grief

They focus my vision like a magnifying lens

So no mere distraction may delude me ever again 

For I have seen with clarity

The goodness that exists in the land of the living

And I will rest and be fed by the gentle hand

Of my beloved

And the bright Sun will guide me by day

And by night bright stars that illuminate the path across space

That leads to the Milky Way 

And I will find wonder

I will see that joy-filled amazement 

Is available to me

Every step along life’s way

Because it is my privilege and my goal

As a mind, as a soul,

And as a natural born human

A citizen of earth

 Those who used to paint the sky,

Unwittingly invented the time lapse photo,

For just as soon as the eye can detect the color of a certain space,

And grace the canvas with the appropriate paint,

And look back up,

The color has changed.

The clouds have rearranged.

En plein air,

The conditions are rife

For failure,

Unless you allow yourself to constantly be evolving with the sky.

Accept the sweet trills and squawks of birds.

Be at one with the harmony

Of Hawks and Thirds and the Circle of Fifths,

And constant transition.

Listen to your heart.

Start your painting aligned

With the great creative spirit 

That dwells in your own mind

And, then, make art.

You may make a masterpiece 

That captures, not the moment,

But the entire day

And night,

And the eternity of the essence of the living meadow

You caught sight of.

-jenn

 If you fight with a dead man before he’s dead,

You can convince yourself 

That you got your way or he got his,

That he was right or he was wrong or either you were,

But if you fight with a dead man after he’s gone,

You’ll come to see,

You had a “me” problem.

And the only conflict you really had,

Is somehow the same one you have now,

Inside your head,

For he is gone,

But “it’s” still there.

And now it may be easier, or maybe not, 

But all you’ve got is you and your memories.

So now do you have a chance to work it out 

And let go of all the victories you thought you won 

And hard fought battles you feel you lost?

But is there better? Is there worse? 

Or are you a grasswidow?

A fair forsaken one, who married in a pasture,

And consummated there

On the simplicity of the green turf,

And never had another care in the world

Until motherhood?

-jenn