Think For a While

​Think for a while
On those gone too soon
Those better folk
Who thought a life not free
Worth less than death
If that death bought
The chance at peace and love
For those that remain
We remain
And we remember

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Peace of Mind

Peace of mind is achieved one way only, by making peace with your own thoughts, which tend to do what they want anyway. You make peace with them by letting them be, by keeping your attention on their ebb and flow without offering any resistance. The only caveat is that you should have a strong anchor, some external reference that prevents you from being lost in your thoughts. This is like swimming in a fast flowing river, whilst keeping your head above water.

The doer

One cannot live in isolation
often the watcher becomes the doer
feeling that his actions will reflect favourably
on his fate
forgetting that his destiny is a part of everything around him
of which he himself is just one small part
in this great peace can be found for the observer
but great pain done to the doer
and so through pain we return to wisdom
knowing always that we are condemned to do
without willing that it be so

Peace

We spend much of our lives conflicted within ourselves,
But he who has achieved peace within,
Will certainly bring peace to those around him.

Gusts of thought

Gusts of thought,
Do bend my mind past breaking.
Repeated wisdom offers no aid,
In this darkened place.
Far above a star shines fitfully,
The traveler’s only hope –
To give up hope,
And in the vacuum left behind,
Discover a glittering absence –
That delights in both light and darkness,
But is moved by neither.

Evil, no-evil

Night swallows day,
Sight fails in the inky shroud of black,
Knowledge withers and logic stumbles,
Imagination is tunneled down negative spirals;
A cave full of shadows,
Nothing is real but everything is a threat,
Leaking out on a world turned grey,
The core is poisoned,
The well springs empty,
Coughing, spluttering the seeker is lost,
A deep marsh of melancholy
For boots over-brimming with bitterness,
Hands seek to clutch and fists to lash
At the cruelty of life,
Suffocation – no air to breathe,
No possibilities in a world shrunk to a point.
Then comes the lightning strike-
Instant illumination!
If all is lost then only growth remains,
A new horizon spreading wings by the second,
Through parting clouds the moon shines bright,
A mirror to the soul long lost but un-tattered,
Sails filling up with sudden hope,
Lungs that breathe again like billows to the wind,
Hands no longer grasping round their own throat,
The noose falls away,
Evil recedes,
Thought and emotion tip back the scales of balance,
Imagination is freed and fingers stroke through long grass,
The mountain air clears the fog of war,
Above the stars, oh so many stars,
The spiral path loops ever upwards,
Day is born.
 
 
 

Western thought divides night from day, beautiful from ugly and good from evil. Evil is assigned to the dark; to that which we reject in society and ourselves. We lock away in jail those we judge to be evil, and lock away in our unconscious those parts of ourselves we are ashamed of. But any process of growth must shine the light of awareness into every dark nook and cranny, every shadowed corner full of the pale shapes of our shame and inadequacy. Many people spend their life trying to cover this up, to strengthen the mask, but always their nemesis is there to undo with wrong all they do with right.

In the East of the past evil was more rationally looked at as faulty thinking. This compassionate view saw the criminal as someone whose path through life has not taught him the lessons he needed to be good. His role models were men who tried to survive in any way they could, and so such a man he also became. The desperate, the weak, the afraid will always lash out. In this way we are no different from the dog that has been mistreated and mistrained by its owner. Chained to a lonely corner without discipline, without exercise, without love, it barks and snaps at any and all who pass by.

This does not mean we should open the prisons, that we should allow the street thug to attack us with impunity. To apply what we have learned about evil on others would be like the man who cast the stone before first freeing himself of sin. We must look within to explore the dark depths of our own minds, to bring light to the evil, the faulty thinking in ourselves. This is the only path that leads to stability, to strength, to a way of life that takes from its follower any need to lash out to prove himself to others. To fix the world, we must fix ourselves.

Pushing at the moon

When in the bellows that push at the moon,

The circle of thought is seen,

Separation dissappears

And thought takes its proper place,

Chasing rainbows and seeking sights,

Just as it should.

DOUBT

What a blow it is,
To have all you think you are –
Taken in an instant,
Those nurtured gifts,
That guarded weakness,
Cherished place in future’s isle
Snatched away by the hand of doubt,
No quick path’s to be found,
Only the sound of clumping boots in the mud
Slowly, carefully picking cockles of future worth,
Before the rising of the tide.
 
 
 
 
 
 
If a moment ago I was good,
Then now I stand on the shoulders of a giant,
That he never existed is irrelevant,
So long as I can leap to surer ground,
If his memory’s besmirched by mud and doubt
So be it,
The next standing stone rises up,
Even if I cannot see it,
Intuitions breath fills my sails,
Yet now I know not to worship her,
The wind is just the wind,
Of no more use alone than the planks of wood beneath my toes,
The creaking ropes or sweating arms of sailors,
Transporting this fool to a land,
Where he will no longer be a fool,
But see a hole in the mirror,
Through which the whole world makes sense,
And his own place in it
Is irrelevant, no – not irrelevant,
Just a ship at sea,
Much smaller is the ship but no less part
Of the sea.
 

On another matter completely…To those of you who read and enjoyed my post Rebirth, which was written for Elli’s competition, please follow the link below:

http://elliwrites.wordpress.com/2011/04/10/rebirth-april-contest-entry/

And vote by clicking on the number of stars you think it deserves. Many Thanks!

Concentration

A thin umbra of light,

All beyond is darkness, irrelevance,

There is only the now,

The fist, the blood and the pain…

And the joy, the unbearable, unbreakable joy

Of living,

In pure concentration,

This poem –

All that’s left behind

Haiku #23

 

The peace that you seek

lies not at the journey’s end,

but in its next step

 

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