Sunday, May 2, 2010

Receptivity



Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser
















-->
We were born onto a life sustaining planet.

Why?

Because we signed a contract of reciprocity:

Oxygen in exchange for carbon dioxide.

The problem isn’t that She’s been holding back,
or that you have.

The problem is one of receptivity.

We have bared our souls from an intimate relationship
with Abundance –

Fear shuts down, walls off, defends Homo sapiens
against life-force-sustaining energies,
the oxygen of emotions:
compassion, kindness,
nurturance, love.

…the capacity to experience beauty.

…the capacity to celebrate and be celebrated.

Here’s a hint…

Any closed system will eventually deplete itself,
and a sense of lacking will set in.

Lack of self esteem.
Lack of self worth.
Lack of self love.
Lack of anything meaningful beyond the self.

Nothing made of wood, stone, metal, glass, or plastic
will ever fill the void.

Never ever.

The increase in carbon dioxide in the atmosphere,
it’s not a sign that you’ve been overly generous
in this so-called partnership.

It screams:

“Excess is the ironic outcome of wantonness.”

Excess is the ironic outcome of wantonness.

Here’s what I want you to do:

Open up!

Open your eyes.
Open your mind.
Open your heart.

Expand the rib cage that some
say is the bone of contention
that defines our very existence -
procreative man and woman
begetting an entire species.

Now…Receive.

Open and receive.

Let in the life-force-sustaining energies and
make a place for them to root and grow
in the essence of your core being.

Open and receive.

Encourage others to do the same.

We must stop forcing ourselves upon Her
as a means of securing access to that
which She has already offered openly.

We must learn how to accept.

We need to say, “Thank you.”


~ Jamie K. Reaser, Author
Published in "Note to Self: Poems for Changing the World from the Inside Out" 

Saturday, May 1, 2010

The Cairns of Carrowkeel















Image: (c) Jamie K. Reaser
Ireland, 2003


I, walking past the
vaginal stone,
crouch and kneel
to enter Her.

There is a pooled
wetness that seeps
in the
darkness.

Passage.

Slowly, with a
gentle touch to
ancient walls.

Only when I reach
the wide openness of
womb do I
become erect.

Receptive and empty -
this is a place of
mooning,

where the implanted divine
can gestate and
mature.

Each devotee an egg,
each inspiration -
sperm.

A pulsing life force
vibrates in the
chambers.

We are three:
She, me, and the
potential that dwells
within.

Cycling -
death and re-birth.

An old way of being
is buried when
new life
or a new age
emerges.


(c) 2003-2018/Jamie K. Reaser
A Talking Waters poem

Feel free to share

Friday, April 30, 2010

My Voice















Image from: www.abearsden.com


I have found my voice.

I am not sure where or when

I lost it,

but I found it

today,

inside me.


I recognized it immediately

as it lifted

from my heart

and resonated

with my soul

and sang

a verse of truths

that are my deepest secrets

and longings.


Thanks,

but I no longer need your words:

Mom, Dad,

teacher,

preacher,

lover,

loyal soldier,

mass media,

passerby,

Mr. President.


Please reclaim the voices

in my head,

at my ears,

behind my back.


I gift them to you

without reluctance

or regret.


Take them in ribbon

and fancy wrappings.


Come join me,

a nice glass of wine

and a porch swing with

a mountain view.

Sit back,

listen.


This is the sound of

my voice.



(c) 2003-2011/Jamie K. Reaser
Published in "Note to Self: Poems for Changing the World from the Inside Out" (www.hiraethpress.com)

Thursday, April 22, 2010

Pachamama's Homecoming
















Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser


Women of the Q'ero Nation, Peruvian Andes,
during despacho ceremony honoring Pachamama
(Mother Earth/Cosmic Mother)





Sun Sol rise.
Caress the breasts of the Andes,
warm our hearts corizons,
illuminate
our perch
among the worlds mundos.

Hanaq pacha.
All that is Above.
Kay pacha.
Earth,
Water,
Weighted Beings.
Ukhu pacha.
All that is Below.

Take Love as the llave key,
open the puerta door
to everything and nothing.

Hummingbirds come.

Hummingbirds come
build your bridges,
Colibri Puentes,
across planes of reality,
heart to heart,
make way for our prayers
to travel far.

The power to
heal Her
is in the intent
intento
to heal your
attachments
to Her.

By candlelight enflamed
and breath kissed,
muchos besos,
coca leaves:

Santa Tierra Pachamama.
Holy Earth, Mother of All Things.

Taita Inti.
Father Sun.

Chaskiwayku.
Receive me.

Yanapawayku.
Help me.

Ñanta kichawayku.
Open me.

Pijchuwayku.
Cleanse me.

Hampiwayku.
Heal me.

Little spirit, espiritu,
hovers,
vibrates,
transforms
bones of skeleton
and fear
like stones
rumis into quays.

Radiant feathers, plumas,
turn
into bright brown eyes,
smiles, sonrisas,
plumes of children
in costume
and laughter.

Souls dance their
way home,
nuestra casa,
taking their place
within community.

By candlelight enflamed
until Sun, Sol,
caresses the Andes
twice more
amidst the infinite,
infinito.


~ Jamie K. Reaser, Author

Feel free to share

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Understanding














Image: origin unknown

I had been settled and gleaming
before grabbed and cast
across the surface.

One, skim, ripples
Two, skim, ripples
Three, skim, ripples

A three skipper!

And as I sunk
into the murky depths
all the way to the ancient muck bottom
Life simply turned and
sought another.

Only the serpent coiled in the willows knew
I had been displaced,
and would never return.

Stillness became my greatest longing
as I tumbled,
over and over again,
fragmented,
pushed and pulled
by currents that I could not rest long
enough to understand,
my edges constantly challenged
and defeated.

I grew
smaller.

Forces humbled me at every opportunity.

Interchangeably,

I grieved for the falsely satisfying memory
of who I had been,
I righteously questioned purpose,
faith, and forgiveness.

Then one day,
years well beyond count since
I had passed
before the Witness’ eye,

A young child’s determined hand
drizzled me onto the uppermost
point of a sandcastle,

And I understood
the need for the journey
as it was.


(c)2009-2018/Jamie K. Reaser
Published in "Note to Self: Poems for Changing the World from the Inside Out" 


Feel free to share

Monday, April 12, 2010

Departing Rome



















Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

 
Let’s say you took a trip to Rome
and never got to see the sites.
All the places from childhood texts:
The Coliseum,
Arche di Constantino,
Fontana di Trevi,
Vatican,
remained to you as they were,
photos and stories.

But on your way to and from business meetings,
you passed a wall.
And embedded in that wall was a piece of white marble,
nestled there amidst ancient mortar and dreams.
It caught your eye,
again, once more, and again.

And each time you had the opportunity
you stopped,
greeted it,
and memorized something about its features:
The way the light reflects from its crystalline structure
under cover of sun or cloud or moon or lamp,
the chiseled edges and weather worn surface,
the hardness.
Irregularities of cut.
Perfection of being.

Until, it became etched upon your mind’s eye
and you knew,
knew with all the certainty of the Fates,
it would never leave this place.

Would that be enough for you?

To know one rock fragment
in one of the many walls of glorious Rome
in passing moments of eternal intimacy?

Yes.

Indeed.

For, this is what Life offers us in its most generous
of honest truths…

a construction of passing moments
with no guarantee of more
in which we can choose
to be fully present with another,

or not.

To see them so clearly that some aspect of their
essence permanently strengthens our Vision,
gives rise to fantastic works of art
within us,

or not.

So,

know, Dear One, that…

departing Rome,

I shall remember you,

this way.

© 2008-2013/Jamie K. Reaser 
Published in "Note to Self: Poems for Changing the World from the Inside Out" (www.hiraethpress.com)

Saturday, April 10, 2010

Parental Advice

















Photo: Meredith McKown
http://www.mckownphotography.com/index.html

Old souls behind
child eyes,
masters of power
in hand-me-downs.

When you reach low to
tie their shoes
remember to kneel in
respect.

Listen at least as often
as you tell.

Learn more than you teach.

Through their missteps, scrapes,
and tears, come to know
compassion.

Joining in their spirited play,
surrender to joy.

You’ve been blessed
with the holy sacrament
of tending –

Midwifing your own soul’s
rebirth.



© 2010-1209/Jamie K. Reaser
Published in "Note to Self: Poems for Changing the World from the Inside Out" 
Deep gratitude to Meredith McKown for sharing her beautiful photography

Feel free to share