Enter the Unknown

DSC_0312

The forest is speaking;
the trail calls out to me.
The trees communing,
and inviting me in.
The fog, too, beckons,
as it lives among the wild,
visiting, it seems,
from another realm,
obscuring the way
to teach me patience,
because I always
want to know more,
and teaching me
how to change the view
by removing, gently,
with nothing but softness,
everything I might have
expected to find,
or desired to have before me.
This act of disappearance,
of a world I am too inclined
to judge, discern,
and lose myself in,
brings what remains closer;
here I am, it seems to say,
right in front of you,
close enough to give you
a lifetime of discoveries,
and it is and sublime,
and there is nothing else
until the next moment,
and the next. Have faith;
enter the dewy morning,
and with each step,
the way will gift itself
to you. Stop thinking ahead,
my love, and allow
the great movement to unfold.
 
– Tammy Takahashi
Advertisements

The Journey Home

DSCF1799

What is this yearning,

To come back to myself,

As though it is possible

To depart, though,

My deepest experience

Tells me I’ve left

So many times before?

Does a tree ever wonder

About returning home,

As it stands, year after year,

Nothing but strength

And the truth of its own

Enduring, patient existence,

As the seasons come and go,

As the leaves lose

Their life’s blood, fall,

Nourish the ground

And the tree feels no shame

At being naked, forced

To face another unimaginable

Winter, the specter of fire,

The wrath of sick insects,

The glowering face of Time.

The tree doesn’t seek renewal,

Does not carve a path

It might one day take

To find the core of its being.

Even the flower,

Which curls back into itself

Each purple twilight,

Is not traveling home,

But is answering the call,

Every time, to be this version

Of itself, the only one possible,

This moment of moments,

Pure and true and now.

And so it should be,

Not a journey of miles

Foraging for insights

As a squirrel does for food,

To come back and get found,

No, the only journey to take

Has already been made,

Or we would not be here,

And ours is the job of discovery.

On a Morning Almost Spring

DSCF9849

 

It is all for you,

That sweet smell

The rain-soaked cedar

Living out its last moments

Close to home,

The breathing earth-fire

Of the sacred mountain,

The new leaves budding,

The insects always

Finding their way,

Knowing where to rest,

And how to carry out

The meaning of their lives.

For you, that I drop

To my knees, to be close,

Too, to all that splendor

We forget to call home.

I bring hands to heart,

And the cave within

Becomes the whole horizon,

The sun, hidden before rain,

Still finds its way

Into the space between

Blood and bone,

Heart and mind,

And I don’t have to wait

Anymore, no, I find

That I am already here.

  • Tammy Takahashi

 

I May Never …

DSCF5235

It may never be enough,
what I am able to tell myself
about the beauty and purity
in this world.
I may never come to know
the ancient and eternal wisdom
of a sacred tree
in trust of the ground that holds it
and the sky that receives
its every last fluttering wing.
I may never know the grace
of a sun that sets
without fear it won’t rise again,
of a river that has never doubted
its path or destination.
But I will stay.
I will sit among the splendor,
and watch its holy manner,
and I will rest in awe,
of what my heart
may one day understand.

– Tammy Takahashi

For the Living

DSCF0209

For life and for the living,
for the choices we make
on the side of life
that keep us cushioned
in earth’s warm embrace,
breath springing from breath,
heaving, mounting, rising,
majestic being coursing through us
when we feel it, and when we don’t,
and all we have to do
is know this to be true,
to bring our feet softly to ground,
feel life playing with our skin,
and we are gazing ever upward,
taking in with curious eyes
what the heart already knows,
as we begin our journey there.
 
– tammy takahashi

For a Short Time

29573380_10160208641970607_7212767912369889198_n

For a few days,
the cherry blossom trees
come alive in bloom,
decorating the world like snow,
as if in joyous collaboration
with the winter just passed,
as if to remind us of the continuity
embedded in all this change.
For a few days,
the senses are heightened,
the sky has opened
to give space for all that grows,
and the moon grows large and quiet,
illuminating the beauty
that wants to be seen,
touched, most of all, felt.
For a few days,
the gates to our perception fly open,
maybe slowly, if we are afraid,
and we can start with one blossom,
her fragile pink petals
delicately announcing herself,
giving everything she has
before falling to soft sweet earth.

– tammy takahashi

Sacred Geometry

DSCF9644

We take what is holy
and make it again, and more,
lighting it with our recognition,
creating glory with the simple act
of seeing new, seeing again.
And it is not just what we see
that makes us laugh and dance,
but we who are seeing,
the untold, hundredfold ways
we have arrived here, now,
to notice magic with our own.
And so we weave, chant,
imbue the ever-changing world
with all the things we’ve learned
and have carried in our blood,
and it is more than we ever knew,
and we are finally ready, and bold,
and spin a new colour from gold,
to lay it like a wreath
on what is already felt complete
but will always sustain
our heartened and earnest more.