The Eye of Love

DSCF3343

The eye of Love
sees from all places
across all spans of Time,
takes us everywhere
we have always
needed to go,
helps us with the task
of remembering who
we have always been.
The eye of Love
does not ask or demand
or make judgments,
but sees us
in all of our potential,
and knows we are
striving for me.
The eye of Love
belongs to all of us,
and comes from
the space where
all that is without
and all that is within meet,
our sacred source
of all that is.
Let us meet at
the eye of Love,
and begin again,
and then begin again.
 
– Tammy Takahashi
Advertisements

There is No Time

dscf7935

We move through time
The hours and minutes
A life force from below
mounting through our feet
like a slow-burning fire,
The days our discoveries
of Sun, Moon, Starlight;
The weeks the stories
Streaking through the sky
Giving us our memories,
Creating a past of ghosts;
The years our wisdom
Won from movements
Enshrined in our remains,
Sloping down hair of grey,
Embedded in our lined faces;
And there is no place
For everything we know,
And when the fire
Is reduced to embers
And finally to ash,
There is no time that stops,
Just life to be discovered
By those who come next,
And they will find
All of our gathered secrets
In the butterflies
Hovering over spring flowers,
In the fireflies
Making dances in the night,
In the birds
Connecting all the mountains
They will never climb
And that would otherwise
Never find their flight.
 
– Tammy Takahashi

The Art We Are

21713_10152288617425607_2010083473_n

There is nothing at all
in the brilliance of an artwork
that captivates you the moment
you rest your tired eyes on it,
not a single hue or design,
or configuration so harmonic
that you are sure you can hear
its song vibrating under your skin,
there is no wonder
contained in the sacred moment
when self meets art
and no awe
in the human capacity
to imagine a better world
and better selves in it,
there is none of this magic
that we move through,
stumble upon, are ready to meet
that we do not already
possess inside of us.
We are not only the art we make,
but the art we knew to find,
the art we let in when weary,
the art that want to lift us higher,
the art we draw to us,
the art we co-create
by letting it live through us.
There is no manner in which
we can say we are not creative,
our very bodies an intricate tapestry
of blood, stardust and bone,
our emotions an expressive dance
of all the world’s forces pivoting
around the sun, moon and earth
that always know to protect and hold
the art of our evolution.
 
– Tammy Takahashi

Endings Now

P_20180109_113335(1)

In our blind rush for the new
we forget the endings
we must survive
in order to arrive there.
We skip over our endings
losing them, and what
they have to offer us,
in our chase of the bright light
enticing from the horizon.
We dream of being somewhere
better than here and now.
We bypass our moments
of transition and change
that tell us so much
about where we have been
as if we can travel
to where we are going
without taking ourselves there.
Climbing the tree,
we forget the bark
that holds us in its strong grip
as we set our sights
on the highest branch
that cannot, alone,
support our weight,
or launch us into the sky,
where we want to rush
for all of our answers.
Endings evoke fear;
let them be scary;
let yourself be scared.
In the fear, only here, as you look,
is the passage through.
Sit at the foot of the tree,
on top of the ancient roots
that have skipped over nothing,
and lived the deaths and rebirths
of thousands of its companions.
Find the beginning in the end,
and the end of not being witness
to the journey of your life.
 
– Tammy Takahashi

Peaceful Heart

DSCF1553

Oh, how it aches to look to the world,
with a genuine heart for discovery,
only to see myself reflected there,
to find worry etched in the furrowed
brows of clouds dense in a dark sky,
and fear playing out its dismal dance
in the cacophonous cries of wild things
fighting for their lives in the cold dawn.
To know that it takes the will of gods
to penetrate through the conditionings
etched like fine art onto my bones,
so that I can see them dissolve and go,
so that I can see more of what I know.
And then I see: a breath, an opening.
There is a freedom in this, this knowing
that it must begin here, with me,
in my desire to create the life I want
by turning my kind gaze to myself,
to find my superpower as the goddess
of a brand new world of my making,
with the power to unleash the worry
from the clouds of brightest white,
to turn screeches into melodious sounds,
to write my loving, peaceful heart
onto the walls of our shared experience.
 
– Tammy Takahashi

Life Likes Living

DSCF3401

If we can distill one single essence
from the wonders that surround us,
it might be this: that life likes living.
Let’s say it again: life likes living,
life perpetuates herself with ease,
grace, and unfiltered generosity.
The Earth is thirsty; there is rain.
Creatures are gasping; watch;
seedlings and shoots are growing.
The trees they become give us
our own capacity to be nourished,
offer shade when the fire sun,
doing what it does best, emits
the heat that sustains our time here.
The world is glowing, ever-creating,
you can see in in the tiniest things,
the small flower peeking through
the concrete we’ve laid in hopes
of asserting a semblance of control
where we never really had any,
for more than an uneasy little while.
Life likes living, and will persist
in this, an uncanny triumph as great
as our capacity to be and to imagine,
and of course they are the same.
Our imaginations, too, have no end,
they grow and are fed on the same
rich soil from which everything comes.
We are tendrils growing with the trees,
we are stars piercing through the night,
and it is only when we choose to be apart,
to regard nature’s beauty as though
we are not embedded right inside of it,
that we compromise its right to flourish
and the unbearable pain begins,
because we’ve forgotten life’s love of life.
May we remember the heart of us,
borne of earth’s blood, skyward bound,
and serve the life that we are with joy.
 
– Tammy Takahashi

Through the Rainbow

DSCF9668

Every possible colour existing
in the span of seven bands,
and you can never see where
one ends, and the next begins,
and you know you will never
bring your fingers to touch
the fine, silken luminescence,
yet all of it is there, somewhere
in the world, in every moment,
and there is always the dream
of getting close enough to see
what happens in the lush spaces
between yellow and orange,
indigo and violet, what worlds
will open up to us as soon as
we are ready to pass not over
the brilliant rainbow, but through,
not on the way to our destination,
but to face what we never knew.

– Tammy Takahashi