10 Commandments

1. Be authentic. Take your stand in the truth as best you know it today, without hesitation or fear of judgment. Consider eccentricity a reflection of authenticity.

2. Sexual pleasure and desire are our birthright. Allow yourself to have consensual sex often, with whom you’d like and as creatively as you desire.

3. We are all “becoming” and our being is an intimate, creative dance with God. Recognize yourself and others as images of the Divine.

4. Express love and gratitude for beloved teachers who are present in your life and ones who are no longer here in human form. The Universe has helped you find one another.

5. Your heart knows things your mind cannot always explain. Trust in synchronicity.

6. Live a simple lifestyle. Give to your parents, children, neighbors, friends less quantity and more quality, less entertainment and more loving interaction, less overwhelm and more joy.

7. Remember who you are. You are That which knows all experience. Do not seek after what you yearn for; seek the source of the yearning Itself. You are this already.

8. Forget with generosity, those who cannot love you.

9. Have your feelings, all of them in your own way. And allow others to have theirs, without any need to change or manipulate them.

10. Stay curious. Be patient with all that is unknown. Delight in the mystery of formless Love that is ever present and everywhere.

As a member of the Unitarian Universalist church in Westport, CT, I have been attending a class called “Building Your Own Theology”. We were each invited to consider our 10 Commandments or “10 Suggestions” which is more fittingly Unitarian! What an interesting experience…Hope readers will enjoy this and be inspired to consider your top ten!

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The Laughing Heart

your life is your life
don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.
be on the watch.
there are ways out.
there is a light somewhere.
it may not be much light but
it beats the darkness.
be on the watch.
the gods will offer you chances.
know them.
take them.
you can’t beat death but
you can beat death in life, sometimes.
and the more often you learn to do it,
the more light there will be.
your life is your life.
know it while you have it.
you are marvelous
the gods wait to delight
in you.

Charles Bukowski, “The Laughing Heart”

This is a charming and heart warming poem; a short story inviting us to dedicate ourselves to recognizing our Light and seeing the Light in every person and experience. Light has no boundaries in the spiritual relationship. There is only one I AM and that I AM is universal and individually manifest. There is only one You, each made in the image and likeness of our Creator.

To reflect back the Light in one another, is our higher purpose. When our light is seen and recognized, there’s a little more of it available to us. There is no power to prevent God’s grace from reaching us in the light or the shadow.

Every bit of love that we express is a love that is expressed to us. I am you and you are me. The “light of pure knowing” (Spira) helps us see our true identity and recognizing our true identity is the recognition of the nature of Consciousness. There is but one Life and we are living that Life. This is the truth that makes us free.

Sun light, moon light. Light waves, light travelers. Light seekers, light seers…live in the Light, be a Light in the world, in places of darkness too.

“We came spinning out of nothingness, scattering stars like dust. When life became Love, we reached our destination”. – Rumi

Widow’s Lament in Springtime

The Widow’s Lament in Springtime
BY WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS

Sorrow is my own yard
where the new grass
flames as it has flamed
often before, but not
with the cold fire
that closes round me this year.
Thirty-five years
I lived with my husband.
The plum tree is white today
with masses of flowers.
Masses of flowers
load the cherry branches
and color some bushes
yellow and some red,
but the grief in my heart
is stronger than they,
for though they were my joy
formerly, today I notice them
and turn away forgetting.
Today my son told me
that in the meadows,
at the edge of the heavy woods
in the distance, he saw
trees of white flowers.
I feel that I would like
to go there
and fall into those flowers
and sink into the marsh near them.

(Note: My thanks to brettgorvy@Instagram)

When i die I want your hands on my eyes

Pablo Neruda: When I die I want your hands on my eyes

When I die I want your hands on my eyes:

I want the light and the wheat of your beloved hands

to pass their freshness over me one more time

to feel the smoothness that changed my destiny.

I want you to live while I wait for you, asleep,

I want for your ears to go on hearing the wind,

for you to smell the sea that we loved together

and for you to go on walking the sand where we walked.

I want for what I love to go on living

and as for you I loved you and sang you above everything,

for that, go on flowering, flowery one,

so that you reach all that my love orders for you,

so that my shadow passes through your hair,

so that they know by this the reason for my song.


–Pablo Neruda, Veinte poemas de amor y una canción desesperada. Cien Sonetos de Amor. Plaza y Janés. Ave Fénix 205-2. Sexta edición, junio 1998.

Image

I am keeping the name of a woman
I barely knew locked up; it’s in a box,
and now and then I pick out the syllables
that are rusted and creak like rickety pianos:
soon those trees come out, and then the rain,
the jasmine, the long victorious braids
of a woman now without a body, lost,
drowned in time as in a slow lake:
there her eyes went out like coals.

Nevertheless, there is in dissolution
the sweet scent of death, buried arteries,
or simply a life among other lives.

It smells good to turn our face
only in the direction of purity:
to feel the pulse of the raining sky
of our diminished youth:
to twirl a ring in the emptiness,
to cry out to heaven.

I regret not having time for my lives,
even for the slightest thing, the souvenir left in a compartment
of a train, in a bedroom or at the brewery,
like an umbrella left there in the rain:
perhaps these are the imperceptible lips
that speak like the cadence of the sudden
sea, in a careless moment on the road.

For that reason, Irene or Rose, Mary or Leonore,
empty boxes, dry flowers pressed in a book,
they call out from their lonely corners
and we need to open them, to hear the one without a voice,
to see those things that do not exist.

Pablo Neruda, “Image”

The Travail of Passion

W.B. Yeats (1865–1939).  The Wind Among the Reeds.  1899.

The Travail of Passion

WHEN the flaming lute-thronged angelic door is wide;

When an immortal passion breathes in mortal clay;

Our hearts endure the scourge, the plaited thorns, the way

Crowded with bitter faces, the wounds in palm and side,

The hyssop-heavy sponge, the flowers by Kidron stream:

We will bend down and loosen our hair over you,

That it may drop faint perfume, and be heavy with dew,

Lilies of death-pale hope, roses of passionate dream.

“It is good to love many things, for therein lies the true strength, and whosoever loves much performs much, and can accomplish much, and what is done in love is well done.

Vincent Van Gogh