Concrete jungle #3

I think it's the third one, anyway.

This process is beginning to scare me. Whenever I find myself being inspired to write something about the work I want to do, it seems to always end up being about God. I do not feel ready to really step out and declare myself a spiritual person--even though I know that when I came into this world, SOMEONE decided I was going to do exactly that, as my parents gave me the middle name "Vedakumari" meaning "holy daughter." I do not consider myself holy--at least not any more than anyone else--but maybe that's the point. Maybe we are all holier than 20th century American culture would have us believe. I have a hunch that when all is said and done, the 21st century will bear this out.

This world
does not exist
to funnel us all down the same straight and narrow path.

Infinite expansion is the nature of my universe, the nature of the universe created by my God.

The fires of passion
The flow of consciousness
The growth of connection, strong connection, a web of constantly strengthening connection reaching over the entire face of the earth--this is the desire awakened in me.

Who has the guts to step out of the box, to grow up, to stake her own claim on the piece of the universe laid out for her? To take the first tentative steps on a half-defined path, coming into form in front of her as we speak?

If I say I do, who is going to come down on my head and say I can't?

I dare you.

Concrete jungle #2

Yay, found it!

I feel like anyone could have written this damn thing. I don't even like it very much because it feels so cliched. But it was important for me to come out and say it, because of all the years spent believing that NOTHING matters.

People matter, animals matter, insects matter, plants matter.

The creatures of the sea, and the sea itself, they all matter.

The rocks and the mountains, though they seem inorganic and dead, they still matter, they still contain life and spirit.

The air matters, and the water, and the soil.

Our homes matter and our stuff matters. Our bodies matter, our minds and our feelings too.
Our money matters, and our freedom.
Our family, friends, lovers--and our enemies and strangers.

Song of Linmayu in the Concrete Jungle

Here's the first poem in my series about work...it feels somewhat frustrating as there's nothing concrete in it to tell me what I should be actually DOING. (Yet.) I believe it is important to keep the faith that such revelations will come in time.

Can you feel the heartbeat of the earth
through layers of concrete and rock, glass and steel, roads and skyscrapers?
Can you hear the voice of the wind
through the endless buzzing of the radio and TV and cell phone waves?
Can you listen to the voice of your own calling
through the millions of voices around you, each telling you that they have the way, and so can you if you sign on the dotted line,
that they know what's best for you, and you need only do as they say?
I am a woman who walks in this nonliving jungle, who feels the concentration of its harsh energy beating and stabbing at her core, and also feels the lightness of the city's life and joy bubbling up from within like an unexpected, undiscovered source of spring water.
I am a woman who feels the contrast.
I ride the waves that originate from within, I do not know where they will lead me.
I am here, alive, just one tiny voice in the infinite cacophony...
yet a voice is still a voice, no matter how quiet,
and a life is still a life, no matter how small.