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Meditation

admin — Sat, 03 Jul 2010 21:39:18 +0000

Meditation
Not some bodacious science
Is the native tool of the spiritual seeker
So essential
To cleanse and balance the chakras….
To reach that serene summit
Of inner stillness
Anchor your feet into voluptuous Gaia
Accept all Her forms
Young maid…mother..crone
Do not dawdle on deep breaths
Steady….inhale…exhale…
Go forward inward

Sight the figure EIGHT on black
Horizontal line dividing in benediction
As subjective and objective separate
Two circles become the sign of SEVEN
Digging into roots of red
Curl the seven into graceful SIX
Softening pulsating passionate orange corners
Swing out six into solid FIVE
Yellow solar plexus pentacle
Bridge of triumph between heaven and earth
Mold five into angular FOUR
Unsinkable green branches
Symbolic of heart-felt candor
Stretch four out into arcs of THREE
Reaching up to poignant skies of blue
Float like a gentle whistle on the breeze
Entwine three into mystical TWO
Third eye coloring shades of violet
Bubble outlines merge into spheres of commitment
Two straightens and stands tall as ONE
White crown radiating universal love
Affirming the tranquil power of oneness
Steady…inhale…exhale..
Go backward and outward

1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8

Return
Refreshed
Renewed

For Tigger

admin — Mon, 31 May 2010 20:42:46 +0000

In spite of you saying
“I’ve been expecting this for a long while”
I knew in our shared sorrow
It was not an easy decision
For you to make
Heartwrenching resolution
To do that final act of kindness
Her furry figure was no longer
Able to curl up close to you
Her eyes no longer gazed up to you
With the soulful innocence of that kitten
She was sixteen years ago
Her once dark striped muzzle
Streaked with white
Still continued to love your touch
To the very end
Together we share the tears today
For we have freed Tigger to the heavens
Where she will keep your mother company
And once more play with her sister Spitfire…
Tomorrow we will rejoice
For her spirit is no longer fettered
By earthly bounds
And will live forever in our hearts

dedicated to Diana’s Tigger
April 1985 – March 21, 2001

©L. Kupfer

Brush Fire

admin — Mon, 31 May 2010 20:37:44 +0000

today
live match
or half finished cigarette butt
tossed somewhere
by a careless fisherman
landed and sparked
on brown pine needles
spewing
white wispy tendrils
drifting higher than
tall pine trees
silhouetted
against tranquil blue sky
we answered
smoke signals
with shovel, hoe, rake
united in sweat and muscle
rake, dig, overturn, pat down
smothering orange glow
with red dirt
black blanket
marking our progress
wide swath
from lake to gate
until
fiery genesis
met successful
obliteration

Crystal Legacy

admin — Mon, 31 May 2010 20:34:13 +0000

I hold in my hands
Echoes of almost forgotten legacy
Hear me cast my prayer
Into their song
Cleansed in Gaia’s salty tears
Recharged by the full moon
Golden Tiger Eye
Soften my stubborness
Enhance my flexibility
Orange Calcite
I surrender to thy age old
Balncing, healing, unblocking energy
Red Calcite
Aid me in the conquest
Of negative limitations
Optical Calcite
Be my guide in universal connections
Multifacet purple amethyst
Uphold my preseverance
And give me the strength to weather
Storms of impatience
Rose quartz
May thy blessed energy
Teach me to listen to spirit
And deepen my awareness
Beyond jaded edges

One Year Later

admin — Sun, 23 May 2010 19:49:15 +0000

She entered the world on a Saturday
The seventh of March in nineteen thirty-six
She left the world on a Tuesday
The twenty-seventh of July in two thousand eight
Mother of three girls who lived and
Others who never survived to be born
She came into the world, according to my grandmother,
Backwards, kicking, and screaming
The doctor advised her to not have any more babies
So she didn’t
Mom was apparently all the child she would have time or
Energy to keep up with
Frankly, Mom would have made Dr. Spock rethink the entire issue of birth control
Now, if they told her (Mom, that is) not to do it, she would do it anyway
Lost her cherry at eleven (eleven??)she told me,
And burned the diary at thirteen to make sure her mother didn’t find it
Married Daddy at sixteen and had me at seventeen
She had told him she was pregnant, but of course she wasn’t
I was born nine months and two days after they were married
In the same church in which I would one day walk the aisle with my true love
Her best friend was Jean … whose baby girl entered the world one month
After me … and, inevitably, Linda and I became best friends, too …
Hard to believe sometimes … that she’s gone from life …
She always had such a presence
A fighter from the start, she kicked back at life as hard as it kicked her
Loved horses, the outdoors, gardening, canning, cooking,
And making her own butter
She taught me how, but somehow I let most of it slide
In the pursuit of convenience and saving time when I’m tired after work
But really
She worked … mothered the three of us, married at least three men, (I think),
Tilled the earth, milked the cows, cleaned the stalls,
Plucked the chickens, gathered their eggs, and turned out wonderful
Things from the kitchen – my word, the woman could cook!
(That I lost my gallbladder at age 42 was largely due to her cooking) …
I let it slide and there’s so much I don’t remember now
And she’s not around for me to ask anymore
No more long phone calls … asking me for money or help …
I got to where I dreaded her calling because she rarely called for me
Without wanting something from me
Yet
I knew without a doubt that I was loved and accepted and cherished
Even when we disagreed, which was a lot and often
And now, one year later, if I could have anything I wanted
I’d just like to hear her voice one more time
Like all the times that will never come again
Because time for her finally ran out and she left without warning
Without good-bye
Like my grandmother … and grandfather … and my father …
Funny thing about mothering – babies don’t come with instructions –
You kind of fake it till you make it
And hope they turn out all right
She wasn’t the best of mothers, and she wasn’t the worst …
She resided in a bottle for most of my childhood before quitting when I grew up,
Smoked like a chimney, and her language could peel wallpaper off a wall!
I am truly blessed and truly thankful to her …
For so much of who I am and who I am becoming
For the gift of my life and all its wonders
For the strength of my convictions borne of disagreements
For the knowledge of my family passed down by word and by example
And now … one year later …
I am still missing her more than I can say, and …
It really, really would be nice … to hear her voice one more time …