Buddah Bellies

Your face is a million smiles, flirtatious and kind. You laugh is unique, tempered and impermenent. Your hands hold the key to life eternal, fingers touched in the Ohm position. You are key to the fullfillment of  ongoing life eternal.

But I cannot help but be attracted to your belly. So round, so playful. You laugh and the whole world watches. You smile and the kindred spirit of your soulful mind enlightens humanity.

Exposed to an eternity of desires and expectations your belly softens the blows of life. I rub it with an intention of being in the moment. Calm and resourceful, I ask for permission to be who I am. I’m not a pervert. If I said I wanted to touch your head it would be a sign of reverence. But oh the Buddah belly is a source of intention. Meditation, serenity, finite but yet infinite in its beauty.

Made of wood, cement, cermanic. Touchable, soft and reverent. I am just a soul looking for confirmation that life is beautiful through you.

People pass by. So many temples and ornate altars, but there you sit unattented to the gold and glitter. Profound is your attention to the source of peace and inner resolve. OHM.

Buddah bellies are delightul. Happines pours out of the center of the self. A feeling of peacefulness as persons sit in breathing for enlightenment. Words so simple to say. Ohm.

Laughter, quiet and unapologetic. Smiling tenderly you look forward eyes closed in a meditation to humanity, Your lips utter silence, speaking a truth we all long to hear.

May you always be.

Suspicious Mindfulness

As I walk along the miles of my mind I can see the demensions of my thoughts. Large and squared off, circles that are infinite and triangles that equal in mathamatical terms.

I also see pot holes and black holes, wind storms and tornadoes. Mountains to high to climb yet the snow covered caps intrigue me to climb them anyways,

I’ve come to a valley. Lush green landscapes and tall trees. I want to trust what I see but this mindfulness is full of suspicion. Trust this one thought rings out like a musical note, then another runs amuck and says the tones do not match the quality of the sound? Who do I believe. All thoughts are equal in the mind. All mind is mindful.

My vision is clear but yet there is no clarity. My breath has volume as it inhales the memories of what I envision. As I exhale I tend to cough, coughing out the emotions that surround the memories and blur the vision. What sense can I trust?

I turn away from this valley and see the many roads that I have traveled and the many more that I will travel upon. They really all look the same. No footprints in the sand, not even a scuffle of events that could have taken place. I see the serenity of the moment and it is mindful. MInd filled in a different way. I know that the roads traveled are always renewed. No mistaking the footless path. Do overs are not do it again but doing it different than before. The footprints then change.

I can hear sound. I hear the heart beat of the thoughts as they come and go inside my mind. One beating after another as the thoughts change in unison of the thinking. As they move do I form rough uneven thoughts? Dark unmending seams that never close?

Smell, it contains me. An emotion of serenity. Shall I walk in the expectation of smelling salt water and flying fish? Ground up dirt ready for planting, or dust inside moldy windows in need of cleaning?

I think I will turn myself inside out, then outside in again. Shaking out the cobwebs, the disorientated thoughts and the memories that want me to make sense of them. I did it before but the roads show me a road not yet taken.

I will be mindful not of suspicious thinking but mindful of a foot on bare sand walking along enjoying the scenery in my mind. A mInd filled with emptiness, a view of never ending clarity. A completeness that inspires me to keep trying as I view the miles of roads to choose from in my mind. Doesn’t matter if the roads are worn out, there are always new footprints to make. Wide or narrow I will learn to traverse them without suspicion of an outcome that may or may not become real.

This world is mine to be mndful of. I will take a breath and breathe in completely and again breathe out with out coughing or attempting to hold my breath.

Mindful splender.

In This Room.

In this room I am. In this room I can be.

In this room I know myself. I am strong, fearless, and couragious. Yet outside these four walls I am unknown. Nothing can define me. I do need definition. For without definition I am nothing. A nobody with a bodily presence. I am these walls.

In this room I see four walls and that makes me feel safe. I can sit in this room and know myself. It gives me life, without living. This room knows me, it controls me, it is me.

The windows are narrow because so is my thinking. It allows some light in but only marginal to my consciousness. I can close off the light and sit in the darkness of my mind. I can be in this arena and be friends with my sub concsious self.

I do see a door. Down a hallway it calls out to me to open it. To feel the air on my face, the breath of God in my mind. The wind tells me it can heal me if I just take a chance. Open the door and you can find freedom from what holds you confined to this room.

Can I make my feet move? I think I have forgotten what they are for. They have been idle for a long time. This room holds everything I need, why would I want more? Do I need more?

That very question prompts me to say yes. Why would I be asking if there was not potential in that very thought?

I do want to find the door available, to feel the wind and the sun on my face, to use my feet for dancing on the sand pebbles of the ocean, I do.

In this room I am larger than life. But in this room I am contained. Breaking free will be hard, it will take determination, resolve of the issues I cannot yet face. I see them. I speak to them, I know them, they are mine.

I tell myself I can be anything I want to, I just have to get up and begin my journey. I step and release. I breath and release. One voice that can overcome the other voices that taunt me into staying. What do I do? Only I can say.

In this room I feel small. In this room I do not really know myself. In this room I am a servant to my mind games.

In this room I am fully present. In this room I am no longer contained.The strength that pulsed through the walls, is no longer my mentor, it now  pulses through me. I feel different, no longer contaminated.

I am outside. I feel the wind, I see the clouds which come and go. I am the freedom that my thoughts can no longer contain. In this room I am now free.

Be Little

Once I was be little. A very short two sentence entity with colourful verbs. My hair stood out attached to the comma’s and I used my hand in jesture, like an exclamation point.

I was not an attraction. In addition I was to small to be seen. They all talked about me but rarely could they see me. I was invisable to most. Shy and misunderstood. I was be littled by the crowds of words that were surrounding me.

I was picked on. Abused and confused for the most part. I never knew who wanted me around and who would type me out then throw me away. No one cared for the unused letters or words that didnot make sense. I was tortured by the printer. His loud voice gruff and untethered by simplistic phrases, not by the vocalbulary that made things sparkle.

Small things, words with pazazz. I was not an attraction, I was me. Be little and often used to make a point. One word, one silly word. What is the point? I am be littled.

Caringly I survived. I worked my way up from the no nonsense I sentence structure to becoming aware of my verbage. I could contain so many adjectives it could make my nouns look surprisingly good. No one wants to be little, they just do.

Big words, bigger ideas, no thought. Think about it. Think about what?

The pages turn, history repeats itself numerous times. works come and go. Who remembers?

No longer thought of as belittled. No longer sought out as a temporary phrase that could be deleted when ever. What makes me something to be? Strength of word, large bold letters that surround me in contemporary type. Nothing repeated, a worldly perspective.

Be littled, be strong, be brave. Everything counts even the a.