Be Compassion Be Love

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There’s everything to be said
For the way we try, so hard
 
To be a part of the world,
Truly and fully where we are,
 
Even when we don’t understand,
Even when there is little left
 
That holds it all together,
Or of our own sensibilities.
 
It shatters. We try; we attend
To the wild perceptions shifting,
 
Clinging like desperate savages
To the remains of our Truths,
 
Afraid to distill the gold
From the piles of our history.
 
We look for pockets of seamless
instances of harmony, like miracles,
 
The reminders that we walk
Walk this Earth in unison,
 
That we all, at the very bottom,
Would love for the same thing:
 
To be at peace, to connect,
To belong and find our purpose,
 
And it always comes to this:
Even when it hurts,
 
Even when it might all be lost,
Be compassion, be love.
 
– TS

Love is Real

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How many times
I’ve tried to find you
using the only
language I know
in hopes bringing
you closer,
 
But my eyes
were travelling
faster and farther
than I could
keep up with;
you knew.
 
I couldn’t find
rest at all.
I didn’t trust
that in stillness,
you would
find your way
 
(to me. That
this is what you
wanted, too)
 
I couldn’t close
my eyes, which
gave me, at least,
enough of the
world to pacify
my fearful heart.
 
But this is
no longer enough.
You are here,
yet not here; my
blindness compounds
the closer you are.
 
My belly knows;
it pulsates,
Feverish.
My heart knows
it has been in
darkness too long.
 
What terrorizes me,
beyond the seen,
will take me to
everything. I know
this now. You
always did.
 
Will you wait
as I close my eyes,
and still my fledgling heart,
and trust that
the whole world
remains, and bigger
 
(and that you will
still be here, and
that love is real)?
– TS

Can We, Together?

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Will you hold me when I ache,
when the day that changed the world
nears its sweet dusky end?
I thought I could do it alone,
stand here in the face of
these bald transmutations,
chest thrust out
like the immutable warrior
I would like it to be,
and hold my gaze,
and reach with ease
to the song inside me
that echoes the great one harmony.
Mistaking myself for one of us, I feel
I would like to be a tree for birds,
water, sun and rain for trees,
I would like to be the mountain
that appears to need nothing at all
as though it arose from
its own history
we can neither approach nor grasp.
The parts that are broken inside
aim for the top of the mountain
(and I’ll never make it this way)
instead of circling around it,
maybe barefoot, maybe on my knees,
where there are those who are
always ready to take me
as one of their own.
Before I forget again, I ask,
Will you guide my hand into yours?
Can we ache and burn
and laugh and dance together?
 
– TS

One Step Changes the World

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As we wonder about
all the big questions,
maybe lying huddled in bed
sleepless the depths of night,
maybe unable to see the moon,
glowing the world whole
through the frosted window,
there are tiny ants
building their civilizations,
leaves rustling in the wind,
flowers on the cusp of bloom,
hearts brimming and breaking,
clouds in ever changing
formation.
There is the single step
the genesis of motion,
made with countless
sensations
gathered at our feet,
that holy vessel our
foundation.
Foot touches ground,
and the entire earth
is transformed,
and we are changed
in our deepest
awareness. – TS

The Leaf that Would be Rain: A Little Story of Self-Acceptance

Tammy T. Stone

Tammy T. Stone

It was a hot summer day, bright and bold.

A leaf sat on the sill along with many other leaves just like it, not young and not yet old. Despite being taken care of, it was almost wilting in the searing heat when suddenly, the sky bloomed into the moodiest dark and rain began to fall, softly and soundlessly at first, and then louder and more thunderous still.

Soon the rain was pelting the ground, ferocious and resounding. The leaf, protected by a thatched roof overhead, remained dry, though it could well sense that something was underfoot. The air was charged and the day had the feel of magic about it.

It wasn’t long before the rain eased into a light pattering. One of the raindrops splashed up from the ground and landed on the leaf’s broad, sky-facing side, at just the right angle so it could remain there without sliding off.

The leaf shook with electric fervor, and in a jolt of inspiration, felt far more than the raindrop’s mere arrival onto it skin. It came alive to all its senses and more, could see the raindrop, smell and taste it too.

For a second, the leaf merged with the raindrop and knew, for a moment, exactly what it would be like to be so perfectly clear, radiant and engorged with life, which seemed now to the leaf like something we could all be, all at once, now and forever.

The feverish first dance coursing through the leaf passed, and now it slumped a little, aching to be the raindrop, to have come from the great sky beyond the thatched roof, knowing that to the sky it would return, and so it pleaded with the raindrop,

Oh, take me with you!

I am tired of the ground, of my earthly shelter and all the shadows falling upon me.

Please take me on your water journey away and up, let me bounce here and there and fall and melt and slide with you, and absorb all Life has to offer, just like you.

At that moment, another raindrop splashed up from the ground and bounced onto the leaf, right on top of the first raindrop, so that the two became one.

The weight of it was too much for the leaf to bear.

The leaf sighed and then heaved with something emergent in its very core, as the large, world-reflecting raindrop bulged and swayed and started to roll to the edge of the leaf. The leaf felt the raindrop gather at its outermost tip and said,

I understand. You are about to leave me now. This is the nature of things.

I will put all my sadness and grief into this very moment, that we are sharing together, and allow you, the raindrop, to become my most important and courageous tear, and I will cry out all my regret and confusion, and I will let it all go with the rain as you tumble to the ground.

The raindrop lingered for a moment and then spilled over, a big, soft tear of momentous gravity. The leaf rebounded up, and now lighter, began the journey of wanting to be nothing but itself.