Singing Ourselves to Freedom

I had a dream a while back, and
In the dream I was in Africa,
And I was helping refugees escape, after
Years of terrifying war and suffering.

As we loaded the last truck full to the brim
With hot, thirsty, exhausted, war-torn beings,
All huddled together with barely room to breathe,
I wondered how they would survive the trip,
Packed in, as they were,
Like sardines in the 100+ degree heat.

As I climbed up to sit on the tailgate
And motioned the driver to begin the journey,
The truck began to move slowly down the road.
And as it did,
I heard one voice,
That quickly grew into a chorus,
An almost unearthly sound
As they began to sing together
A Song of Thanksgiving

In anticipation
Of the freedom that awaited them,
At some unknown time,
In some unknown place,
On the other end of this journey.

I believe it was Tagore who said
Faith
Is the bird…
That sings
While the dawn
Is still dark.

Come my friends,
Let us sing!!

Song of the Infinite

You move through the center of me

Like a river
No beginning, no 

end  

Song of the Ancients

Song of the Cosmos
Song that can’t be sung

You sing me into existence
And back into Silence
Song of the immigrants
Song of the children
Song of the powerful
Song of the faithful
Song of the heretic
Song of the warrior
The only song that has ever been sung

You are the Music
I am the Lute.

Play.

(Photo of Alisa Weilerstein, by Lucio Lecce)

Music of the Spheres

Listen for the soundless sound.
The roaring whisper. 
The music of the spheres.
It is right here in the midst of This.
Just behind the image,
Underneath the story.
Slow down for just a moment and listen.
Can you hear it...
The song that Love is singing?




(photo by Will and Matt Burrard-Lucas)

Have You Been Outside Tonight?

Have you been outside tonight?
There is a bright sliver of moon
Rising over the hills in the west, and
A chorus of coyotes chanting Alleluia in the next field.
Tonight the blue spruce stands tall, 
Steeped in silent majesty.
And tonight, like every other night,
Meteors and whole galaxies streak by,
Everything singing
Your holy name.

The Great Migration

The great migration is happening
In earnest now,
As if some grand invisible invitation
Has been issued.

And they are returning home
By the thousands;
These utterly unique aspects of Being-ness.

From the east and west,
The north and south,
From cliff and cave
And all the hidden places.

There is no force equal to this Call
As Love reclaims Itself
In all of it's many disguises,
Leaving nothing to the imagination.

Liminal Space

This is the space
Between 
The in-breath and the out-breath,
Deep in the Heart of the Beloved.
This is the place of un-knowing,
Of seeming isolation
And doubt;
The place where humans fear
To tread.
This is the Mystery
Whose author is Love.
This is the pregnant
Liminal space
Where stars are born.

Spreading Out in All Directions

Let the Mystery speak to you.
It’s here right now 
Just underneath the mind's chatter
And filling everything with its magnificence.
Misunderstanding is all that separates you from experiencing
This infinite Breath that breathes you
This Stillness that spreads out in all directions
This Love that sets you free.



(painting by Melissa Harris)