The Return

Tomorrow 

I go -

I return to the life 

I live 

With 

None of my problems solved 

And 

Mail piled up behind 

The door 

I have a few new 

Resolutions

Like 

Don't let it get 

     To me 

Sit and contemplate

     Just 

     Because

Remember what is 

Really important 

And don't 

Let others distract me from 

My life's great purpose 

Which is 

To sit 

And contemplate

The truely great questions 

Which transcend

Even language 

And mentation

Those questions which become 

Oneness

And therefore 

Disappear 

All together

Astounding!

I have come here 

To discover the 

Infinite 

I valiantly begin 

And I am on the doorstep of 

Possible enlightenment 

When

I am told to

Leave 

This shrine -

Which is Dedicated to 

Meditation -

Because 

There will be a class 

Now -

About 

Meditation . . .

I arise 

And stumble out 

The world spinning 

Around me 

From my 

Quick retreat -

My heart pounding 

From the sudden effort 

Of arising from a zero point

This place is so 

Like that 

So many things so 

Misunderstood 

I am not even 

Astounded

Anymore

Quiet

Hey I'm trying to meditate

     Here -

Where I'm from 

     The sounds of the freeway 

Intervene 

But here 

I am startled by

The cry 

     Of wild turkeys 

     And the honking of 

          The Canadian geese 

And when they stop

The frogs are

Croaking 

I have come so far 

For 

Peace and quiet

I am startled by 

The deer who rests 

     Beneath the porch

And leaves in a huff 

As my suitcase rolls overhead 

And trees -

There are maybe a 

     Million trees 

Which no one planted 

     But God 

Which no one waters 

     But God 

There is landscape here 

     -naturally occurring-

A person would pay a lot 

To have these boulders 

     Brought 

And the stream run through 

     A giant 

Pump. 

All this -

So my mind 

Can slow down 

And stop

Awhile 

To remember 

     What 

Is truely important . . .

Is that the dinner bell 

     I hear ?

They now have 

Wifi

And I brought 

An iPad 

So 

It's not nearly 

As quiet 

As it used to 

Be 

Priceless Treasures

How can one little truck 

Hold 

    So much stuff!!

It's like a time capsule

     In here . . .

Sand from the last trek

     To the beach 

And a few shells 

And rocks 

Why

Must I bring home rocks ? 

I have rocks, pebbles and stones

From sixty years gone -

My father 

Collected rocks -

     Also 

Carefully finding them 

- After we'd passed the 

     National Park 

     Sign -

One for each trip -

They are still at

     The old house 

     I'm sure 

They were as heavy

As he could comfortably lift 

So there 

They sit -

Too heavy for 

Me 

I'm more the pebble sort 

(Be careful to empty pockets

- before washing!)

I try to resist 

The urge 

I look away 

But I sometimes find 

The same one 

On the way back 

Saying,

     "Pick me, me!"

And I still haven't 

Really figured out 

     What to do 

With all these priceless

     Treasures

Escape !

Planning again 

My escape 

For a few days - the trees 

Will 

Surround me 

There was is so much resistance 

To this 

And so far to go 

Resistance from others 

And myself  - wondering if 

It will be worth 

All the trouble and

Expense. 

But there is a part of me 

That sings

Yes, yes, 

It will be worth all the trouble 

And 

Expense 

To be able to get away 

From 

All the things 

Not done 

And the pressure cooker 

That is u

Dear . . .

To be alone 

With the friend 

To discover again 

The relationship with 

That -

Time to clean out

The truck!

Shamen

There is a fairie

Hiding here 

In 

The old mission church 

I can feel her 

Here 

Just barely peeking out 

From behind the pew

But she is a little  sad -

Not too many folks 

Know how to see and 

Perceive 

Her here

She is happy 

To be seen 

To be 

Perceived 

There is that little sparkle 

Around the edges 

That life 

Arising -

That bit of light 

Like

Tinkerbell

It's been awhile 

Since the Indian shamens

Were tamed 

And went away -

But today

We see 

That their 

Legacy 

Lives on 

If we but 

Look 

Drought

We've had as much rain 

As usual here

I've been here 60 plus 

     Years . . . 

Might it be the addition of 

Millions more 

People -

Condos, apartments,

And housing tracts ? 

Every build-able inch

Being built 

On 

Not everyone can live 

Everywhere

For if that 

Were true 

We'd all be 

In 

Beverly Hills 

I'm sure 

But then Beverly might look like 

Mumbai

( the RICH would rant 

And rave)

So 

It's raining now 

"They" will let it all 

Run into the sea

When every drop 

Should be caught 

But then "they" might 

     Have to 

Stop complaining