(Akaal is a word that means undying. It is chanted when someone or some idea, dream or wish dies. It honors the light or the love that never dies but keeps unfolding. This is a song about aging.)

I bless all the ghosts

I’ve been holding onto,

all the pieces of a puzzle

that never comes together,

because it’s never been meant to.

Akaal akaal akaal akaal akaal akaal akaal!

if I can just let go I know that life

will still be growing.

love is the only thing that’s real

And it’s only love that is worth sowing.

Akaal akaal akaal akaal akaal akaal akaal.

Akaal akaal akaal akaal akaal akaal akaal.

akaal akaal akaal akaal akaal akaal akaal.

First There Is A Mountain

I was trying to tell a friend about a meditation experience I had but it was like trying to find the smallest part of an atom—the closer to the truth of it we got, the more empty space there was. Never completely empty. There is always a seed. (But what is the seed made of but emptiness?)

“First there is a mountain then there is no mountain then there is,” Remember that old Donovan song? That is a great description of meditation. It is a thing we do and then it is not doing then we do a thing again. We learn how to be perpetually stable and changing at the same time. We become human beings.

Coherent Orientation

My  brain longs for my heart

And my heart tries to have a reason,

Tries to have a reason to breathe and do nothing special.

I had a bad dream when I fell asleep in the chair.

Dreamed I couldn’t find my mother and grandmother.

Dreamed they had gone out to a club and didn’t know

Their way home.

I tried to use the phone.

But as with all dream technology, I couldn’t find the numbers.

Fives turned into twos and seven, eight and nine

Kept changing places on the keypad.

 I asked John to help but he was married

To someone else and didn’t hear me.

Grandma’s dishes were piled up by the sink and the sink was full of dirty water.

Her kitchen had become a restaurant or cafeteria.

I looked in her old fridge to find food for the people

And there were strange cakes and casseroles that just appeared out of nowhere.

I felt disoriented.  

“The term “Orient” derives from the Latin word oriens meaning “east” (lit. “rising” < orior ” rise”). … To situate them in such a manner was to “orient” them in the proper direction. When something was facing the correct direction, it was said to be in the proper orientation.” (wikipedia)

Dreams get me all turned around, so I don’t know what direction I face.

 I wake up lost.

But then I ask who it is that feels lost and there is an anchor in my heart that won’t let me drift too far.

Not anymore. Even being lost seems oddly familiar.

The heart longs for coherence with the brain, and the benefit of their togetherness is cumulative. When one goes off course, one feels pain

Breath is a safe harbor, a refuge for the confused. As long as one is breathing there is reason

 to place hands on heart and find home.