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The Wandering Cell

I’ve always been a wandering cell

Cruising around this Great Body, trying to find my kind

At first, I hung out heavily with the immune gang

They were so badass!

Tried so hard to be a killer, wasn’t mean enough

Spent a lot of time with the memory crew, kept forgetting

A bit of life with the neutralizers, I did that pretty good

But not good enough

They knew I was pretending

So then, I began roaming

Trying on organs like roles on Broadway

Auditioning to be a heart…nah, too cheesy

Attempting to be a liver…geesh! too laborious

Having no business…being an ovary

And a stomach? Forgeddaboutit

I just kept wandering, wondering

Why nobody wanted me

Just busy, going on about their duty

Everyone so certain

And me, just a big ol’ question mark

Wandering, wondering

Why I never could quite fit in

Why I could never seem to find my place

Years and years I wandered

And finally became okay with it

Saying hello as I rushed on past

Even if I wasn’t acknowledged

I smiled

Somehow, I began to understand

That if heart cells tried to be liver cells

Shit…there would be a trainwreck

Somehow, I began to understand

That we all had our own lanes

But me? What was my purpose?

Was I really meant to just wander alone, forever?

I began to fantasize

That I was a special type of cell

And that there were maybe others like me

Us wanderers, wandering

It’s just what we do

It’s our purpose

And I began to do that

With certainty, I spent a long time

Wandering

Lately

I’ve found myself hanging out again

With those heart cells

Those guys I totally laughed at

In my attempts to be a killer

And strangely, although they’re still distant

I feel like I’ll hang out here awhile

Swimming in all that Presence I’m finding

They’re really not all that bad

And maybe, even though I can’t really proclaim a destiny

Beyond this incessant wandering

Maybe

I’m part heart too

Nectar

Ain’t it a hoot

The way Nature places

All of the nectar

At the end of a treacherous tunnel

Anesthesia and oxytocin flowing

So we can’t see

All the demons we’re traversing to get there

Exposed, predator risking

So we can’t turn away

From the fingernail clawings along the walls

From the glowing lessons

Inscribed and asking

Are you sure?

Ain’t it a hoot

How we only wake up

When we’re deep in the juices

Realizing where we are

Sticky, woozy

And how in no way we’d ever spelunk here

With veils removed

Ain’t it a hoot

The way the forces work us

Luring into lessons

Titillating temptations

Sensation saturations

Down the dark and winding tunnels

Into the raw and ripping

Necessary transformations

Solve et Coagula

Again and again

Ain’t it a hoot

The gaping maw

Of nectar

Our Raw Heart

A late afternoon beam

Trickles through the canopy

Glowing redwood remains

Hush splintered in our wake

You stop and listen

To the leaves, falling

And silence, unfamiliar

Smiles between us

Further into the canyon

Of waiting fern-graced water trails

Jaws wiggling, diaphragms dancing

You ask me to go deeper

The space I land is remarkable

With these wounds, this heart

And the leaves, they fall

Your depths emerging, extending

And then silence, smiling, returns

I hold myself

And my spirals

Re-storying grand illusions

Into beauty and hope

But somehow, in this reflection

With the leaves falling all around you

I hear myself, in new ways

Many years on the mountain

Conversing with spider and brook

I’ve forgotten the medicine

Of humans

I put my heart

Beating, pulsing, a beacon

Out in between these bodies

And oddly, it’s held

Invisible webbing emerging from two

Deep waters, much solitude

And a bubbling wisdom of Nothingness

I step closer

Into the spiral core

And feel

Perhaps, this heart ponders

It is possible

Two humans

Can heal

As the leaves fall

As the world crumbles

As the core of ourselves and all reality

Is pierced, composted, rearranged

Perhaps, this heart, laughing

Watches, waiting

As I manage to step closer

Into its beating, pulsing

Knowing

Of what’s been true

All along

Knocking, Reversed

The vibrations, jarring

(I don’t want to do this again)

Knocking

Same story, same outcome

They’re always trying to use the System

Knocking

Knocking.

She, she’s knocking, I know that vibration

(I don’t want to do this again)

Open, I see you

Rage, like lightning, bolts through

Attacking, jousting

All I want to do is slay.

Slay that demon inside you

Wake you up from that dream

Get you off your sorry-ass victim horsey.

Usually, I win

Usually, I penetrate

Usually, I hear my voice echo, triumphant

Over yours

Smaller

So much

Smaller.

But this time

(I don’t want to do this again)

You’re not responding

You’re not fighting

You’re not reacting

This, this seems to be a different kind

Of demon

And I look in your eyes

And you look into mine

And I don’t know who is what

And my voice cracks

And I stumble.

Remembering, quickly remembering

I shore myself up

And pretend

But you standing

But you looking

But you, curling hand back to heart

Staring

Something is different.

My heart hurts

And I feel very strange

But I know what I have to do

And read off of

The system generated steps

The typical offered plan.

I’m thankful for this script

As my center is evaporating quickly

My tower crumbling

(I’m a good builder so I quickly replace the bricks)

But you standing

But you turning

But you, not fighting

I’ve forgotten what’s next

I just watch you walk away

And try to forget

I don’t want to do this again

Serving From The Abyss

How is it

That this deep, deep yearning

To serve

Can come from such a place

Of Emptiness

How is it

That I am to guide others

If the center that leads

Is of Nothingness–

No form

No vision

No solid

Identity?

How is it

That I am to reach others

For You

If the marketing plan

Requires somethingness to advertise?

How is it

That what seems to be the yearning

To serve in some particular way

Is annihilated by the very source

Of this yearning?

Sometimes I wonder

Whether I’m toeing a tight line

Between dissociation

Of forgetting myself

Why I am here

What I am here to do

What I want to do

As compared

To a state of Emptiness

That so many teachers

Have taught is the Way

Toeing the line

Between diagnosis

And channeling

Or some other

Sacred

Strange

Thing

A Thing

That keeps me forgetting

That keeps me from re-membering

Why I am here

What I am doing here

What I want to do here

What do I want to do here?

Why do I keep

Forgetting?

Tell me

Please

If I am to serve, this yearning

How do I post

How do I gram

How do I module

Something that is…

Nothing?

Something I keep grasping

Just for one moment

And then watch it slipping

Slithering

Evanescent

Away?

Is it a call to presence

To hold space for another

Without any plan?

Carved

And carved

Until presence

Is all I can offer?

Tell me

How does one serve

From the Emptiness

From the Void

From

The Abyss?

The Door of Water

I am standing at

The Door of Water

I know it is mine to walk through

Amongst the Fire and Wind

Even the secret door doesn’t call me

When usually it pulls me relentless.

My hand, here, touches the cold brass curves

The handle pushes, creaks, unlocks

The heavy wood swings open

And I

Am immersed in it

The aftermath of the Dream Tsunami

He is here, floating…but he just floats by.

I can somehow breathe down here

And there is a certain peace

In the muffled bubbling of this liquid world.

I’m swimming, gliding through this

Lusciousness, after so many years of avoiding

And all around I see floating

Remnants of things that held me down

Floating. Floating.

Things that taught me

Things that tethered me

Things that took up so much space there was no room.

Now, they’re floating.

Floating.

Floating by.

Like him.

Just floating by

Into the great, blue distance.