Falling Awake

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Fall Awake

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You make it harder than it has to be right now
when you rail against what is.
Even your search for truth is burdensome somehow.
Maybe you should flunk the quiz.
Ah-ah-ah........ Just don't show.
Find out who needs to know.
And if your mind still won't let go,
walk outside and consider the lilies.

You keep clinging to a moment from the past
wishing it would re-appear.
But when you try so hard to make what's fleeting last,
you only miss what's always here.
Ah-ah-ah.... So why try.
Just this once, let all hope die.
And I will sing a lullaby
about spaciousness and ease of being.

You don't need to row your boat
to make it down this stream -
even that's too much to do.
Just lean back and float -
it's simpler than it seems.
Let the river carry you.

Every night you offer up your busy mind to God,
allowing sleep to overtake.
And in the morning, if the offer were the same,
maybe you would fall "awake."
Ah-ah-ah.... Could it be?
I know one good way to see.
That's to trust the mystery
And give God a chance to find you.
Maybe God is trying to find you.

Be still, stay here, don't move.
Be still, stay here, don't move.
Be still, stay here, don't move.
And give God a chance to find you.
What if God is trying to find you.

Be still, stay here, don't move.

 

The Train Song

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Just because the tracks are laid...
or just because your ticket's paid for...
and some crazed conductor
keeps on calling out your name,
you don't need to board the train.
No, you don't need to board the train.

Trains of thought will come and go,
but you are not your thoughts, you know -
so why get all caught up in where they lead?

You are who these thoughts
are passing through - don't you see.
You are who these thoughts are passing through.
Be free. Be free.

Even when you're feeling frightened,
sad or hurt or unenlightened,
you can find a peace
that underlies what passes by.
Don't mistake the weather for the sky (of your being)
Why mistake the weather for the sky?

Feelings rise then fall away -
even those you wish would stay,
so why equate your sense of self with mood?
You are who emotion
passes through - don't you see.
You are who emotion passes through.
Be free. Be free.

What a blessing to have taken birth
in this human form -
with the chance to see
that who we are was really never born,
can never die, is always free.

If Destiny decides to strike
some version of the script you like
And make a melodrama
of your endless cabaret,
you know you can still enjoy the play (yes you can) -
if you're still and you know how to play.

Just treat it like a mystery
and view it from the balcony.
Laugh and cry and stomp your feet,
but don't believe a thing.

You are who these scenes
are passing through - don't you see.
You are who this play is passing through.
Be free. Be free.

Home

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Beyond the sorrow and the hardships I've endured,
deeper than my inner child,
is a part of me, untouched and free -
innocent, undefiled.

Despite the ignorant and callous acts of man
and all the hurt that they can bring,
my attention has been drawn,
by the grace of God upon
what has never been affected by such things.

A stillness underneath the chaos -
the ground in which events appear.
Some call it presence or pure awareness.
I call it home now. And I live from here.

And no, this does not shield
my heart from future pain,
or take the trauma from my youth,
or exempt me from all rage
at injustice on life's stage,
I just pledge allegiance to a deeper truth.

A truth that underlies the chaos,
a peace from which events arise -
elusive to the mind,
but never hard to find -
always here to realize.

It's a peace that passeth understanding -
the very ground in which our lives appear.
Some call it Self or even God.
I call it home now. And I live from here.

Death by Love

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I will not forget the way
she pinned me to the ground that day
before I even knew the wrestling had begun.
We were in the thick of it
when I felt an arrow hit.
And yes, the impulse came to run,
but by then it was too late;
I could not escape my fate -
death by love.

On that day a door slammed shut.
And some kind of cord got cut -
or a story line of suffering.
I fell into the arms of grace
As she kicked my mind through space -
left it dazed and wondering
how life as I had known it could just end.
I still don't know what happened,
but I highly recommend
death by love.

It's what you've been longing for -
the one desire to which the rest refer.
It's what you've been running from
for it brings the curtain down
on who you thought you were.

And it isn't for the faint of heart.
It can tear your world apart
or put it right side up again.
It can leave your heart exposed
to every kind of wind that blows.
But you're not separate from the wind.

Oh and it could be a painful death and slow...
especially if you resist - but what a way to go...
Death by love.

What if

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I know the notion may seem a little strange,
but what if "what is" doesn't need to change.
And whether the weather is overcast or clear,
who you are is so vast that all is welcome here.
Mmmm. Mmmm.

What if this rain cloud that poses such a threat
is really just a part of You that you haven't met?
Bear your skin. Bear your skin.
Let the christening begin.
Is it even possible to keep from getting wet?
Mmmm. Mmmm.

What if what you're hoping not to feel -
or wishing you could will away
has something to reveal?

What if this gale force that rocks you to the core
is really just a wind horse pointing you to shore?
Lean in. Lean in. Like a sailboat, meet the wind.
What if you were curious - willing to explore?
Mmmm. Mmmm.

I know the notion may seem a little strange,
but what if "what is" doesn't need to change.
And whether the weather is overcast or clear
Who you are is so vast that all is welcome here.

Mmmm. Mmmm.
Mmmm. Mmmm.
Mmmm. Mmmm.

Sweet Streams

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For holding back the light you gave to me
For every feeling I denied
For all the hurt I could have turned to tears,
But turned inside.

For every heart I could not open to
And all the dreams I never dared.
For every time I turned my back on truth
When I was scared.
I forgive myself. I forgive myself.

Sweet streams wash me down
Pour your grace over me
Lift me up to a higher ground
Where I can see.

For blaming you when life got hard to live
For all the joy I could not see
For everyone whom I could not forgive
Or let go free.
I forgive myself. I forgive myself.

Sweet streams wash me down
Pour your grace over me
Lift me up to a higher ground
Where I can see.

Now I know what I've been told
That you've been right here looking out for me
With a shower of blessings that you had to withhold
I'm not going to fight it anymore - let it be.

Sweet streams wash me down
Pour your grace over me
Lift me up to a higher ground
Where I can see.

Sweet streams wash me down
Pour your grace over me
Lift me up to a higher ground
Where I can see.

Where I can see...

Ramana's Song (Taken from Padamalai)

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Why do you seek the path that leads away -
deeper into the woods, when home is your aim?
Why do you pitch your tent on foreign land?
Turn toward the Self - go back the way you came.

And enter with love the temple of your heart.
Heart is the holy sanctum where I reside.
Offer to me the ruby of your mind.
That is the sweetest offering - a mind that has died.

Be still and know that I am. I am that I am.
Be still and know that I am. I am that I am.

Knowing the world of form to be a dream
fashioned from consciousness, the mind is quelled.
If everything that IS is only Self,
how can you be attracted or repelled?

Give up for good tomorrow, which is false.
Immerse yourself and dwell in the heart instead.
And in the presence of that holiness,
do not even raise your head.

Be still and know that I am. I am that I am.
Be still and know that I am. I am that I am.

Though you may run to the ends of the earth
in an effort to find the Self, your search is in vain -
like looking for the necklace that never left your neck.
Why not end the ceaseless strain?

And enter with love the temple of your heart.
Heart is the holy sanctum where I reside.
Offer to me the ruby of your mind.
That is the sweetest offering - a mind that has died.

Be still and know that I am. I am that I am.
Be still and know that I am. I am that I am.

A Peaceful World

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We may still have a little while
to grow our corn on this garden isle
as it pirouettes through the Milky Way,
but maybe not - who can say.

Her cobalt oceans, once pristine,
her virgin forests that burgeoned green
and her amber waves of grain
have been stained with rivers of red.
This tiny gem is hanging by a thread.

Meanwhile, we push and shove
to stake out our claim.
We fight over lines in the dirt
and kill in God's name.

Some say the answer lies in waging war
to end the violence, to right the score.
Some say it lies with prayer -
some with leaders or with laws.
I say it's hopeless, if we don't treat the deeper cause.

How can we ever legislate
a state of peace, an end to hate?

A peaceful world can only be
when we all see beyond the boundary
of us and them, and me and you
to one Self - and to that self be true.

Who here would cut their own arm
or starve their own child
or let any part of themselves
be harmed or defiled?

We may still have a little while
to fly our flags on this garden isle
as it pirouettes through the Milky Way.
But maybe not - who can say.

Grace Takes

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Golden and molten you soar,
then merge with the ocean once more.
The sun has set, we say, and yet
it rises on another shore.

Still, tears well up in our eyes
as we face darkening skies,
for what can we know of afterglow
or a billion stars on the rise?

Grace takes such shapes...
Who can count the twists and turns?

We have our own orbits too,
sometimes erratic, but true.
I trust the force that's guiding yours
for that's the force that brought me you.

These forms we call you and me
are only the surface we see.
And though Love came,
wearing your name,
it's omnipresent now and free.

Grace takes such shapes...
Who can know the mind of God.

Ekam, nityam, vimalam achalam.

(The one, pure, eternal, unmoving presence)

Deathbed Song

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If I had the chance to live life over,
I would go more slowly - that's for sure.
I wouldn't put up such a fight
to have my way or prove I'm right
or overlay the world with my agenda.

I would open each day like a present,
tender toward what ever came my way -
every texture - joy or pain -
searing sun or healing rain,
for I have seen the masks of my Beloved.

I would not be so restless,
so eager to mess with
the nectar of what is
that I over-think the kiss
or turn my mouth away.

I would not take a single breath for granted.
And I would spend much more time on my knees.
For once you've strewn the ashes of
the bodies of the ones you love,
you learn something about what really matters.

And I know that love is worth the wounding
And that this dance is too brief to sit through.
So even though my heart would break,
what a deep, exquisite ache.
I would always be a fool for love.