IN SWEET DIALOG WITH OTHERS

© 2009 Howard McQueen

As I write this, I am in a peaceful state of being,
like I have been gently kissed by love.

The external world surrounds me, up on this forested hill,
a few miles north of Asheville.

I have no job to report to,
no deadlines or items due.

I have prepaid next month’s rent,
I have no paycheck to expect.

I have two housemates returning
from their shamanistic Amazon retreat today.
I leave in two days for my own form
of sitting with self in retreat.

It is gently raining.

The cat-of-the-house has just paid her respects
after eating breakfast and has settled in for a nap.
The dogwood tree just outside my office window,
its leaves now glistening in the rain.
I see it has also been affectionately kissed,
showing off its air-brushed autumn plum lipstick.

In eight minutes the stock market opens.
Oops, I just encountered a slight bump of turbulence
in my otherwise peaceful space.

Settling back into peacefulness again ...

One could choose to not be at peace in this moment,
allowing the haunting habits of past madness their revisit.

I think not ...

It has become a gentle breeze to be
at peace just with myself,
especially since I have recovered
and healed from the plague of loneliness.

Ahhh, the freedom,
even if brief,
to not be elbow deep in other people affairs,
just the simplicity of my own.

To be at rest and not pulled
by the demands of constantly harvesting the reward fruits
offered by society and its institutionalized,
made in the mind-of-man external world views.

This, my friends and colleagues,
is the sought after solitude of the writer/poet,
the fertile ground to wrestle with paradoxes built-up from within.
De-spooling the historical weather-beaten era,
having lived for many years throwing my awareness hysterically outside-of-self.

Writing helps to take it all back in and begin the distillation, the making of a much finer vintage wine.

Returning via the sweet dialog of others
Solitude stands out as a place to enter and reside in the silence.
But, lets be clear: there is no silence in writing.
There is dialog,
there is discernment,
there are characters to represent,
competition for stories to be tagged "the main event".

And,
there is a deep satisfaction
in doing this even for an audience of just One Me.
Imagine the incremental satisfaction
when Me stumbles upon another,
now there is we,
responding to our writing by uttering words like

"The part about taking responsibility for the conflict I find, has played a huge part in finding peace in my life. Then your blog resonated deeply...you articulated what I wish I could have said."

... & ...

"Such tender-loving words spoken to remind you of the TRUTH of who you are!! Ahhhh, YES, let LOVE have its way with you! It is likewise simply divine to have you as my spiritual warrior brother to share in this work-in-process with."

And now you know
your work invites and invokes other echoes,
these new voices, not there a moment ago.
And what you find that has been created
is this collapse into intimacy,
this infectious quality of connection,
even invitation to begin ongoing conversations ...

There is something about confidence born in intimate "we" solidarity.
It gives meaning, purpose, then the courage and verve to liberate language
inviting a euthanasia to worn-thin identities,
bringing about the rebirth of things seen fresh and in plenitude.

Glory – Hallelujah!

Yes, let it escape.
Allow this gift be heralded by others,
so you may sit in the solitude of humble retreat,
resting in the Dao,
centered in the silence,
allowing the words to flow freely,
without attachment.

This is part of the dynamism of inner peace.

and back up on top of the hill ...
The pussy cat just woke up and rolled over,
showing me her soft, furry tummy.
I bend down to stroke her belly
as she stretches out.
She utters a tiny murmer of thanks and nods off.
It is now shortly after 11 am
and the outside world clock announces
that another ninety minutes have passed by.

Time to get up and stretch a bit myself,
go check on the new garden out front,
perhaps see if there is mail.

Look and see if the weather
may support a lunch out-of-doors,
or at least under the canopy of an umbrella.

Life is nothing short of divine.

And we have only just,
in this very moment,
met.

Imagine the possibilities
as we learn to love
each and every other
more and more deeply.

I am already loving You!

~ ~ ~