The Eye of Love

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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
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After the Storm

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When the storm hits

Where is the refuge?

Is it in the storm itself,

Because we have accepted it,

Surrendered to the flying bits,

The scattered parts,

The howling raging winds,

The spitfires, the lava heaving?

Do we fling ourselves

Into the storm, as if to say,

Take me where you will,

I can’t bear the alternative,

Of riding you out, hoping

You will not take everything

I have loved so dearly?

Is the refuge in you,

Who will, like me,

Cling to your fragile body,

Knowing how small it is

Next to the gargantuan storm,

The waves thrashing

In each of the directions,

The currents that will

Take us all? Do I hold you

As you fall, take refuge

In a life I won’t have to live

Without you, my love?

Do I have what it takes

To take refuge, finally,

In myself, which is of course

A sacred body filled

With all our bodies,

Suffering, clinging madly,

Holding out our hands?

Do I do the very best I can

Not to be idle, but to prepare

My house for the storm,

Lean on others doing the same,

Knowing that what begins,

Ends, that we will never

Be the same, that in the wake

Of fire, flood and hail

There is the awesome stillness

From which it all began?

– Tammy Takahashi

 

The Song of Us

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And the song of the wind

That happy but serious whistle

That permeates all borders,

Mingling with the chant

Of the rumbling mountains,

The tinkling whisper

Of the buttercup

Coming into first bloom,

The low and steady hum

Of moss carpeting the ground

In the forests of the world.

There is not one song

That sings louder,

Or tries to override

Or outlive the other.

They are our blood,

The veins that carry it,

An extraordinary number of parts

Working in the name of

Our continuance.

Do we hear any of them at all?

But then, a moment so crushing

That we fall to our knees,

Come to what is maybe

The first silence

In the legend of our lives.

A note appears, a harmony,

Difficult to locate at first,

But it’s not long before

The songs of all the elements

Reach our ears,

And it can only be so,

In the precise way

Our hearts need them to,

So that we are all hearing

Different music, the song of us,

Made of the exact same sounds.

And this is how we are all one.

And this is how we are all love.

Love Is

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There is love in the face of it,
on the whole of it,
between the cracks of it,
on the surface of it,
when we think we are looking
for the answers to the hardest questions,
it is love,
when we wonder what lies
over the rainbow,
and give up in despair
because the golden pastures
seem so far away,
it is love that is there,
and it has never not been.
Love is not hiding; nor are we.
We are searching for it
in all of its guises,
we are in the process;
we laugh, cry, scream, wonder,
roar from the belly in anger,
twist and rise and howl like a tornado
in the pining for something
sensed, barely known.
And the eye of the storm is love,
and the aftermath of the terror is love,
and the dawn before the break of day
might just be when we can feel love
most palpably, in its purest form,
before it all unsettles and blows away,
so we can soak it in, lap it up,
be a body full sun-soaked love,
imbibing the love that is imbued
with the love of all the distant lands,
and we can be fierce in our protection
of love and all it stands for,
and we can bow in gratitude, humble, awed,
as love fills the pink-streaked sky at day’s end,
contemplating what has been lost,
knowing love never is.

– TS

Total Eclipse

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Under the Hidden Sun

I am you; I am not you.
It is as simple
And as complicated as this.
I, like you,
Can never be
Where or who or what I am not.
I cannot have been
Where I never was.
Only love …
Love knows better than we do
Where I end and you begin,
She is the destination,
The aspiration,
Immanent, within us.
I believe that love
Transcends the borders
Of our identities born and made,
The we who we are,
And who we are not,
And might yet be.
Let us not fall into
The dark hole of
Definitions, demarcations.
We have seen where this goes.
Let us be still, in silence,
So we can find
Clarity about
Our capacity to love,
And the space in which
Love happens,
A power that, if we let it,
Makes us more invincible
The more we give of it,
As we live in love,
Vulnerable, perfect, free.
Let us need one another,
All of us,
The me that I am,
The you that I am not,
The us that we are.

– TS

We Are Gold: A Poem

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our gilded days
and we are –
an imperfect yet holy
refraction
caught in our desires
that come down to this:
to be whole
to be loved,
and the mistakes we make
in the way we cannot
recognize
that we are not what is
left over, incomplete,
searching,
no, we are a reflection,
illumined and pure,
of the vastest space
we can imagine,
and I envision this,
as I my eye catches the spark
of the sun glinting off
gold leaf
on sacred temple grounds:
I don’t have to transport myself
anywhere
for my transmutation.
I am here
with everything that is,
and I will stay here,
until I understand that
love seeps through me
the way the moon
bleeds her light into the sky,
unhindered, abundant,
limitless, moving mountains and seas
with nothing but
inner light.
– TS

Love is Here

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When we remove the word,
what remains?
The word is love.
I walk on the forest floor
that will snake up a mountain
on steps made of stone;
the peak out of view.
The sun, too,
flickers in and out from
among the tall cedar tree tops,
glinting now and then
blinding as she does.
Becoming blinded, as I do.
My heart begins to race.
Go slow, I tell myself.
I know where love is not.
I stumble, my mind takes me
to all the places I’ve failed,
to all the things I have believed
I cannot do. Love is not
there either. I didn’t know
how much I had been
trying to find it, in how
many places. But here,
nearly overpowered, not
knowing how to get from
here to there,
I go inside of myself. I bring
it home. I breathe. I look down
and realize I can take
one step. A few steps
later, the small stones
turn into hearts. Not one
or two. I notice that a bed
of heart stones are guiding
me up the mountain. All
I had to do was know I
had exhausted all other options.
Stop running from myself.
And there she was. Love,
to guide me. – TS