My Mad Mission

Though you may tremble with self-doubt


that the clarity


and authentic joy

were real

they are yours

and you must never turn back

on the heart that led you here

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Imagine you are somewhere where you are enough.

Think of a place. Maybe there is a healer there. They have a simple hut. They apply salves to your heart-wounds.

The people there know that you have done your best. You lay down next to a campfire and fall asleep to the unhurried murmurs of campfire talk.

You can stay as long as you need to. You are home. You are enough.

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Rest. Lay your head down. Breathe gently. Imagine Jesus, or Buddha, or your grandmother, or your favourite teacher is sitting next to you. They smile gently. They say: I am here for you. You can rest now. They gently stroke your forehead, and hold your hand in theirs. They want you to know: it’s okay. Breathe. Rest. They are solid, like a mountain. They will stay as long as it takes.

Breathe, dear.

am I doing it right?

I wonder

what should I do?

the dog invites me to come outside

and sit in the tree-circle

we don’t do anything

as far as I can tell

but the questions stop

they just


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Today I made believe I was a monk

I lit the candles

invited the bell to sound

stepped so carefully


until I couldn’t say

whether I was or I wasn’t

My house was a temple


may our home be happy

may love grow there

may it be a nest, a holy place

may we be gentle and kind with each other

and always leave a light burning

in our hearts

09.24.140 NOTES Reblog

Some weeks ago I was putting on my shoes, which had been in the garage over the weekend, and I felt something soft, almost like a balled-up tissue, under my heel in the shoe. I wiggled my foot around in there and even squeezed down a little, as if I just hadn’t got the shoe on right. Then I thought better of it and slipped off the shoe, glancing inside as I pulled the shoe away from my heel. It was a little mouse, not moving, but the sight of it prompted me to go into a kind of involuntary panic and I threw the shoe down and threw myself in the other direction onto the floor and shuddered. Then I realized I must have squished it and, struck with an immediate kind of remorse, I picked up the shoe again to see if the mouse could, possibly, be okay. He (I don’t know if it was a he or a she) looked just as if he’d fallen asleep, he didn’t look squished, except that now he began to shudder and I saw that this was probably a death-shudder and I started walking outside with the shoe, thinking that maybe if I left the shoe outside awhile I’d come home later and find the mouse gone, meaning he’d recovered from the nasty shock of being squished and run away. I put him down, still inside the shoe, near the compost and I started to cry. And I cried, the whole way to work with my mom in the car, and sometime after I dropped her off, and later in the afternoon, and later in the evening, when I thought of it and the memory of the balled-up Kleenex feeling under my foot came to mind. It was so intimate somehow, how I’d killed him. It was so clearly my fault and also so clearly not at all a matter of fault. Only an accident. I went back to the shoe when I returned in the evening and he was still there, stiff and dead. I buried him in a shallow grave further back, where the woods started, and I apologized for squishing him and wished him well as best I could through my tears.

and you may come to me in my dreams

and hold my hand

because i missed you there,


and i will turn to you in my sleep

and rest my cheek against yours

and i will know that i am not crooked

but maybe


singularly beautiful.

I wondered

if the world was just more alive, then.

I let myself be still

and I cried through my meditation

- cried through breakfast.

I sat in the backyard, in the tree-circle,



I heard it, the humming,

and I felt it, as if it was seeping into my skin

- no less alive,


only as alive as I let myself be.

I can just make out your lips

and my love goes leaping up

but there’s nowhere for it

I see now

that I have a home

and this time it will be with relief

that I go into your arms

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