The Power of One

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The power of One
to step into the self,
to cast the gaze within
and contemplate who,
what and why, to
better face the world,
still and always
curious, seeking
integration.
 
The power of the Many
to stay, to speak
and stand up for
what one alone cannot,
in which one plays
his or her part
in the weaving of
this, the grand tapestry.
 
The power of the
Many in One
and the One in
the whole of us.
 
– TT
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The Right Side of History

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I want to be on the right side of history.

We all do, of course, and we all have
our ideas of right and wrong, as though
every part of this were an open discussion.
We want to take the comfortable path
and be assured of our golden destination.
We don’t want obstacles along the way;
we don’t want the seamier side of the
fairy tale, only the ending, rainbow bright.

But there is a wrong side of history, we
know this. It is the side most of us won’t
be here to regret, mourn, or reconsider.
It is the side that bears witness to our
ugliest nature, that twists our own need
for comfort and security into a languishing
hole all those who are struggling will
easily fall into. It is the hole we will have
dug, depraved, with our own two hands.

I want to be on the side of history that
favours life, and that honours the sanctity
of the living. I want to be on the side
that remembers what it’s like to desire
the chance, no, all the chances we have
in us to imagine, for every last one of
us sentient beings, from beginningless
time until the never-ending. For all of us.

Here is how to recognize the right side
of history: it lives, it breathes, it includes,
it contemplates, it makes things better.
It never looks away. It never looks away.
It is full of hearts that can rest in the
knowledge that they beat the to soulful
rhythms of compassion-driven action.
It is full of people who hold hands, and
take every opportunity they can to listen
and bear witness. It is waking up to a day
free of bloodshed and the thoughts that
take us there, that can unfold and stretch
and open into all the infinite tomorrows.

– TT

Let Us Go There

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It is here
 
It has come.
 
What will you choose to do?
 
What will you choose to see?
 
There is the darkness, encroaching,
closing in, framing a day, a life,
these, our times.
 
It appears to come from above and below,
those two hollowed out spaces echoing to us
as whole, textured, rich invitations
from the other realms, the ones that
root our fragile bodies to the ground
and connect us to the beyond we
try, and fail, and try again to conceive.
We gravitate, don’t we, to those darkest spaces,
those parts that don’t connect us at all,
with lush, morbid fascination; how easy it is
to find the places in us that reflect
this absence of light, and go there.
 
There is, too, in the center of the frame,
a golden sun, not asking or beckoning
any more than through its own power of presence,
inviting us in this way to find our own,
to consider the sun’s quiet, fierce power
to enable the course of all things
without direction, aggression or force,
how the light accounts for everything,
costing nothing at all, how it does not
suck us into a vortex but encourages our
momentum, drive and energy to be
who and what we are and will be.
 
Where will you choose to go?
Let us move with the light, which has not yet
failed to plant in us the very fruit of
our best, most capable actions.
 
Let us have our way toward peace shone upon,
so that it doesn’t succumb to the dark,
so that we see what we need to see
to take us all there, where
light builds upon light,
our way forward.
 
– TT

In the Land of Sweet Honey

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In the land of sweet honey
that flows like endless water
that nourishes the flowers
that feed our wild things
that hum and buzz the
world alive
 
Every year, a new year,
every day, a new sun.
every moment,
life follows death,
 
death, which for
all our efforts,
we cannot fathom,
 
life, the foundation for
and the trajectory of
our awareness.
 
One follows the other
at every turn, and we
can glide, as though
on a magic carpet
through the
alchemy of our
 
transformations
turnings
cycles
 
And when we are tired,
we can come to rest
on this, our land,
and expand this
piece of Time
to encompass
all that is.
 
The reflections in
one grain of sand,
even.
 
We will find
one another
there.
 
– TT

Come Sit With Me

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Come
Sit with me
I want to say,
It’s been such a long time.
 
Maybe this place is unfamiliar to you,
I know – I am also, still, not so sure of it,
or even how I came to be here.
 
I’m not sure which of my histories
had to emerge, defiant and victorious,
from the rest, for today to take
the shape it has, or why,
 
Or how to contend with
my other stories, so stubborn and sure
(so much more certain than I am),
each cropping up, in turn,
to ask something of me.
 
Maybe it’s like that for you, too,
where you are?
I would like to meet you there
and hear your stories.
 
I would like for the act
of our communion, though,
to be our beginning,
to form the core of our existence,
both yours and mine,
 
and for the stories
to enlighten us without taking over.
 
Let us sit together,
and not scramble for meaning,
or dismiss the struggle either.
 
Let us take all of it,
hold it in the space between us,
and breathe and love and be,
you and me,
 
And start
the only place we can,
here, now, free.
 
– TT

The Glimmer is You

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We know that the dark helps us
to see light, and we know this is
a scientific fact and this is also
a figurative way of thinking.
What’s evil casts a light on the good,
What scares us teaches us about
what gives us comfort, hope, joy.
Have you ever noticed that
objects in silhouette, as dark
as dark can be (because of the light),
never look quite as dark as the blackness
of a tunnel, or of a deep, starless night
(or a day lost to despair)?
A thing at its darkest, surrounded
and inflected by the great and powerful sun,
retains the brightness that
has given it life, does not invite
the void, never-ending, never-sweet.
We fall into darkness (the way
we fall in love); a silhouette is
sculpted in relief, its contours
made of light; there is no falling,
only emergence. The silhouettes
of autumn, the most moving of all:
not hesitant, but lingering,
The glimmer is the dying of a day
still living,
The glimmer is soft and yearning,
The glimmer is you.

-TT

The Road

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There is never only one thing
left to do to say, we know this,
and yet, we might come to a
time when the roads we have
taken and that are still to come do
not glimmer with the possibility
they once did, or rather, this
light promises itself for another
day, another time. The roads
are not closed, but we find we
have diverged from them, or
have had them wrested from us,
and this is not only happenstance,
or only the choices we’ve made;
these are the conditions of life.
The roads weave through the
remembrances of our bare,
wild and roaming feet; the roads
call to us in the bell towers of
our dreams; they are the webbed
and interlacing tapestries of
our own ability to make sense of
how life is. We do not take
them to their storied endings;
we know better than that. We
hold them close, dot them with
sacred trees and mystical
encounters, and find our way
there. And know that there is no
road we will find together; and
no road we will ever take alone.
 
– TT