"What if our religion was each other
If
our practice was our life
If prayer, our words
What if the temple was the Earth
If forests were our church
If holy water--the rivers, lakes, and ocean
What
if meditation was our relationships
If the teacher was life
If wisdom was self-knowledge
If love was the center
of our being."
~ Ganga White
The
Dance
by Jewel Mathieson
We
have come to be danced
Not the pretty dance
Not the pretty pretty, pick me, pick
me dance
But the claw
our way back into the belly
Of
the sacred, sensual animal dance
The unhinged, unplugged, cat is out of its box dance
The holding the precious moment in the palms
Of our hands and feet dance.
We have
come to be danced
Not
the jiffy booby, shake your booty for him dance
But the wring the sadness from our skin dance
The blow the chip off our shoulder dance.
The slap the apology from our posture dance.
We have
come to be danced
Not
the monkey see, monkey do dance
One two dance like you
One two three, dance like me dance
but the grave robber, tomb stalker
Tearing scabs and scars open dance
The rub the rhythm raw against our soul dance.
We have
come to be danced
Not
the nice, invisible, self-conscious shuffle
But the matted hair flying, voodoo mama
Shaman shakin’ ancient bones dance
The strip us from our casings, return our wings
Sharpen our claws and tongues dance
The shed dead cells and slip into
The luminous skin of love dance.
We have
come to be danced
Not
the hold our breath and wallow in the shallow end of the floor dance
But the meeting of the trinity, the body breath and beat dance
The shout hallelujah from the top of our thighs dance
The mother may I?
Yes you may take 10 giant leaps dance
The olly olly oxen free free free dance
The everyone can come to our heaven dance.
We have come to be danced
Where the kingdom’s collide
In the cathedral of flesh
To burn back into the light
To unravel, to play, to fly, to pray
To root in skin sanctuary
We have come to be danced
We have come.
The Bluebird
Charles Bukowski
there's a bluebird in
my heart that wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I'm not going
to let anybody see you.
there's a bluebird in
my heart that wants to get out
but I pour whiskey on him and inhale
cigarette smoke
and the whores and the bartenders and the grocery clerks
never know that he's in there.
there's
a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out
but I'm too tough for
him,
I say, stay down,
do you want to mess me up?
you want to screw up the works?
you want to blow my book sales in Europe?
there's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out
but I'm too clever,
I only let him out at night
sometimes
when everybody's asleep.
I say, I know that you're there,
so don't be sad.
then I put him back,
but he's singing a little
in there,
I haven't quite let him die
and we sleep together like that
with our secret pact
and it's nice enough to make a man weep,
but I don't weep,
do you?
