Let your heart sing
I feel my heart.
Her strength breathes.
She calls me toward my deepest desires.
She sings love songs in the dark.
She lets others be.
She fights for her life.
She rests.
The organ of my heart beats, sings, dances, breathes, and makes magic with words. As the green grows toward the blue sky, and the buds of the oaks begin to spread apart their wings, I hear a crow, a heron, and the Canadian geese.
What do you want?
The deer gather in the yard, softly touching the earth and the misty air.
I hear the whispers of my soul friends, their hands laid upon my back, they whisper in my ear, “Do not go back to sleep. Do not go back to sleep. Do not go back to sleep.” In the desert, they recited it as a prayer, a seal, a spell of love.
And oh, how easy it becomes, to fall into slumber near the interstate hum.
Witness all the passive slights. The pretending. See how they want to be saved, by you, by anybody. You too, wanted to be saved. Watch all those souls like barren wastelands on the take. The spell of the wicked is strong. It smiles when inside it rages. Its mouth wavers in lies. And you, too, participate in the factory lines.
Until you choose to be an individual.
Until you stop playing the game of pretend.
And how dangerous, to be an individual, in a world that beckons you for sameness. The world says: Be like me. Do what I want. Be who I want you to be, fellow traveler.
It doesn’t matter what the image is.
The factory lines exist in the most eclectic circles of spiritual rebels, mythopoetic explorers, meditation travelers, psychedelic swallowers. Still, even there, the thrum for relational subservience and the homogenization of the sacred drums its way into the ears and eyes of the people.
The agreement: If I am who you want me to be, you will love me.
THIS IS NOT REAL LOVE!
Love says, you be you, and I will be me.
Let’s take each other’s experience seriously.
Do not let the first glance of an image of enlightenment fool you; look deeper.
If you want to sing your soul, you must guard your solitude.
Walk away from the conversation you do not want to have…
You have secrets, wisdom, and pearls that are yours alone.
Be careful who you let walk into the chambers of your sacred body.
Little by little, you step toward the door of your holy desire. That is yours, irreplaceable, unrepeatable. Do not ask others what your life should be. Only you, my friend, know the way. Only your soul knows the way for you. Only your soul knows the way to your destiny, which is only yours to behold. And the heart, like the river's edge, and the flow of the creek, wanders, with uniqueness in every turn.
Your soul, in the face of love, will surely come home.
This is how we call one another into remembering the songs we each are made to sing.
Go your own way, all the poets, the deepest soul travelers, say, go your own way, beloved. Go your own way.
Be an individual.
Intimacy thrives when we are each true to the river of our unique soul.
Be Brave.
Be quiet. Be still. Be wild. Make love. Play the drum. Sing the song. Bake the cookies. Place your hands in the soil. Soar like a hawk. Walk in the woods. Stir the soup. Draw the tree. Keep secrets. Lay down by the creek. Weep. Purge. Step aside from the gossip. Ask for what you’re worth. Tend to the wounds of your chosen beloveds. Sweep the floor. Clean the house. Learn. See others clearly.
Do it all, from the wild cavern of your heart.