Do Not Mourn the Day Lost

This Day Passing (Skyline Drive, Williamsport)
Do not
Mourn the day lost
Or empty moments
Overrun by day dreaming
For they will yield to abundance
 
Do not
Hold the shame
Others have gifted
But return in kind
 
Do not
Fear a solitary path
For none are truly alone                                                               
 
Do not
Fear your darkness
Your failures or your pain
For everyone lives with these
 
Do not
Keep the company
Of fools unless
You need to be one
 
Do not
Profess to know
As you endeavor to learn
 
And always ask your
Self, “What is my role?”
And follow the answer
No matter where that leads
 
 
Copyright © 2020 by John David Higham: All Rights Reserved
 
 
  

Desire Laid Bare

Sunset (Lewisburg, October 2020)
I want to go
Walking on the ocean
And feel
Waves crashing through my toes
As wind
Whistles through my soul
And salt
Cleanses my soiled flesh
 
I long to go
Swimming in the earth
Kissing worms
As they slide along my lips
While I
Dive toward the magma’s embrace
 
I yearn to go
Skyward as if dust scattering into clouds
And pulling up
Greenest grasses, tallest trees
With me
Birthing sunsets and rainbows
 
I desire to be
On water, land and sky that elusive lust
That transforms
Everyone it embraces into satiated
Lovers of life
Masters of their own evolution
 
 
Copyright © 2020 by John David Higham: All Rights Reserved

Mothers Three

Mothers Three May 13 IMG

Mothers three I’ve had this life
The first from who I emerged
Fought and fought and fought to live
And did so but for her shortest decade
Before paradise crumbled all around her
And she called my name in darkest night
To protect her and her other children
From all the Hells Dad and her imagination
Created and re-created in worlds real and deluded

Before she crossed over, I knew her fate
Though remained her loyal son at all costs
Believing the unbelievable
Accepting the unacceptable
Controlling the uncontrollable
So many bruises my fists did make
Upon both flesh and souls

Mother Two loved Her Jesus
Blaming Mom for her own death
And saw us six kids as sinners to be rescued
Through neglect and abuse
Justified in her mind when converting
The Poor Higham Children into Christians

Her hands I grabbed when she tried to hit me
Her life I held in mine just then at the top of the stairs
Balancing her just so ‘til she promised to never hit
Never try hitting me again during that Summer of Hell
Wise in her terror, she backed down and I too softened
To her words though remained on guard until
My siblings and I could find another mother

Mother Three was there as best she could
When I was desperately lost and called to her
When all my pain roared forth and threatened to end me
In my freedom that became my Hell that only she could stop
Though when she later ended our relationship I laughed it off
During my three-minute visits at her office
Filled with conversations planning for arrangements
Destined to never take place

On this Mother’s Day I know Mothers Three
Each did their best to love and nurture
On my path I now see bits and pieces of each in the mothers
Who come through my office with their troubled children
Trying to make sense of the illogical
Trying to be wise in the face of chaos
Trying to show love toward the hostile

Their paths are never easy and their burdens are many
This I know in more than a few ways as I
Send in The Angels to their lives their souls
And to the Mothers Three

Copyright © 2018 by John David Higham: All Rights Reserved

Photo: Mom (Circa 1945)

Dear Rain, What Dreams Do You Give Me This Day?

Dear Rain

Dear Rain, What Dreams Do You Give Me This Day?
By John David Higham

Dear Rain,
What dreams do you give me this day?
Shall I
Sit nude among your drops
And
Allow your chill to cover my skin
As
You journey from cloud to grass?

Shall I be still
In
The world you are watering
And
Be content to hear
Only
Your song against
The
Remaining leaves
And
Barren fields?

Dear Rain,
What muses might you send
As
You moisten my eyelids
And
Make me blink
As
I gaze upward
And
Re-enter dreams
Evolving
Inside my corporeal being?

Mantra into mandala
Moving across Dear Rain’s horizon
One letter at a time
Like a cosmic prayer wheel.
I know
Its meanings beyond mere words,
As drops of enlightenment and insight
Gently fall from the sky.

Dear Rain, what poems will you give me this day?
What verse
Might
I receive from you,
Might
Flow from you
Through my soul
To
My body
To
My mind
To
This page in my world?

Listen as Dear Rain’s pace quickens,
As
The sound of wind
Dances
It against the window’s glass
And
I accompany that tune
With
My fingers loving the keyboard.

Dear Rain, thank you for this poem today.
Thank you for the gifts
Of creativity,
Of here,
Of now,
Of being…

Love and Gentleness (The Day Before the Day Before)

October 23 2015 024 Cropped

The
Day before
The
Day before,
As
I sat in my den
On
My meditation pillow,
A
Deer visited
Me
During my daily card reading.

A
Totem
Of
Gentle heroism,
Of
Tenderness
And
Patience,
It
Eased into my soul.

“Be gentle to you,”
She
Said as she stood
In
My mind’s eye.

Gentleness:
Patience
Fully embraced,
Love
Sprinkled with tact.

Ah, love!
The
Same morning ritual
Directed
Me to embrace
The
Overflowing Chalice,
The
Endless gifts of love,
Its
Eternal power
To
Heal, bond, evolve.

“Why, of course,”
I
Reasoned to myself,
“This
Is how I live!”
These
Cards were affirmations
And
Nothing more.

Oh, that
Day
Before
The
Day
Before
Soon
Brought upon my path
So
Many varieties
Of
Frustration
(From
Both self and others)
As
I felt my pulsing rising
With
Self-blaming
At
Not having accomplished
All
I had set out to do,
All
I had determined to do,
All
That had to complete.

Frustration
Upon
Frustration
Built
As calls went unanswered,
Things
Broken stubbornly refused repair,
And
All plans slowly froze
Into
A crescendo of nagging inertia
And
Incompleteness
As
Too many clocks kept ticking.

Those cards, reminders
Of
That morning’s contemplation,
Sat
Near my meditation pillow
And
My peripheral eyes
Did
Catch sight of them
As
I hurried past in the hall.

Instead
Of giving myself
Into
Further disappointment
Or
Allowing assertiveness
To
Flare into self-aggression,
I
Stopped.
I
Stopped
And
Sat on the meditation pillow.
I
Meditated
And
Recalled the lessons
Of
The overflowing chalice
And
The still deer.

Thus reminded
Of
Myself beyond
The
Niggling waking world,
I
Allowed myself
To
Be an imperfect human
And
Feel rejoice (AGAIN)
In
The perfect gifts
Of
Love and gentleness.

Embracing laughter,
I
Visited my logic
And
Realized
I had accomplished
Much;
I had done all
That
I could given
All
That filled my path.

I must endeavor
To
Allow myself
To know
Love and gentleness
As
Lasting gifts
From
The
Day before
The
Day before.

At Night

Moon W Cloudy Sky Trees June

At night, when The Angels
Surround my bed
And
Support me
And
Tell me
That it is not yet my time
To
Cross over,
They show me all colors
And
Remind me that my Mind’s Eye
Is
Not colorblind.

At night, when I converse
With
Those who have crossed
And
Read their words
Printed on red leather pages
And
Journey in the dream world
With
Their souls joined to me.

At night, when I see
Beyond
My waking world
As
Angelic essences swirl
Above
My dream bed.

At night, sweet night
Of
Conscious
And
Lucid dreaming
When
I fly about
And
Know such things
That
The waking me
Can’t
Yet embrace:
At
Night
I am emancipated…

The Lizard, the Snow, and Bill the Neighbor: An Afternoon Dream

Lizard

Time and opportunity
Hounded me
With
Their draining energy
This afternoon.
Too much of each,
Too many options:
What to do?
What to do?
What to do?

Possibilities intrigued
Then
Overwhelmed me
While
A beautiful day
Tried
Seducing me
Into
Mowing the lawn.

On meditation pillows
In a half lotus
In my den
I meditated:
A lizard
Soon
Traveled into
My Mind’s Eye.

The lizard told me
Not to mow the grass
And
Not to do paperwork
And
Not to run errands.

“Sleep,” she said,
“And visit the dream world.”

So, I did.

There, I lived
On a town’s street
I had lived
Many times previous
In
The dream world
And
For a decade
Or so
In the waking world.

It had snowed
So much
That
Several feet
Of
Thick, heavy drifted snow
Covered
Everything
On the cold afternoon.

I shouted playfully
Trying
To
Make avalanches
Tumble off
My house’s roof;
The place a Victorian.

With wonder
With glee,
I
Watched those dislodged chunks
Become
Low clouds until
They
Plopped on my front yard.

Amused
As
I was
By
My discovered ability
To
Clear my roof
Of its burden,
Bill the neighbor
Amused
Me
Even more
By
Shuffling his feet
And
Pumping his arms
While
Pretending to be a train
On
His way to visit
A
Neighbor’s house
Up
The street.

I awoke smiling,
Knowing
Two worlds had again become one
With symbols assembled
Into
A resonating idiosyncratic moment
Of
Past’s present into present into future’s past
In
Non-linear metaphysical art.

“What, Lizard,”
I asked,
“Does it all mean?”

Lizard, who had been basking
On
My deck in the sun
Smiled.
“It means you didn’t mow the grass
Because
You were clearing off your roof.”

I laughed because she was right.
My head was cleared
Like
The roof
And
I could again embrace bliss
In
The waking world…

Second Row Down, Second from the Right (This Intuitive’s Playground)

October 19 PM Windfall 007

I won money in the lottery.
Not just once, but twice.

Wait, there’s more:
I won
Twice within one day,
Twice within fourteen hours.

That’s not the whole story
Because I’ve done that several times before:
I picked the winning tickets
Because I was instructed
By
My Inner Voice.

THAT’S NOT even ALL of it:
I’ve won
That way many times before.
But,
I just
Won more in one day
Than
Most people
I know
Make in a month
Because
I knew
Exactly which tickets
To pick
After I asked The Angels
If they were with me: they sent me.

Abundance, abundance, abundance!
Is not about money
But about
Feeling worthy and being grateful
About
Embracing miracles
No matter how they manifest.

Abundance, abundance, abundance!

“Second row down, second from the right,”
My Inner Voice said as I drove from my house.
I knew which store because
I saw it in my mind’s eye.

“Location, location, location!”
My Inner Voice
“Location, location, location!”
Laughing at myself
As
I saw the ticket machine
And
Its big plastic buttons
Before my body arrived at the store
Before my body walked past the racks
Of potato chips and pork rinds.

The worlds
Inside my head
Inside my soul
Are this intuitive’s playground.

In bliss
(Beyond desire and desperation)
My hands danced along
With The Angels.

“Thank you, Great Spirit,”
I said afterwards
Just as I had every time before.

And, this morning,
It happened again
At another machine
In another town,
But it’s all the same:
Abundance, abundance, abundance
The blissful dance with The Angels.

October 20 2015 016

Living, Eyes Full

Windfall October 19 2015 033
My journey through dumb luck into this paradise of miracles,
From numbness to expanding consciousness
Continues to take exactly as much time as I need;
The multiplicity of my follies amuses me.

Pushing against self-imposed limits of my mindset and emotions,
I endeavor to embrace and experience passion
And know my connections to all around me
On all levels in each moment.

Sweet, sweet mindfulness…

Living, eyes full momentarily of light,
Allowing my bliss to vanquish fear and doubt,
Honoring those around me as equals.

Finding light, even when my eyes can’t see it,
Considering the light, even when my mind won’t allow it,
Embracing the sun above my storm clouds
Knowing that more than all my “this” exists,
That my rainbows are waiting at my redeeming
Passages from raging storms to gentle sunlight.

After all, isn’t belief beyond knowing
And
Giving in to faith not the same as giving up?

Sometimes my believing has a basis only in my heart
Though it always involves being aware.
My faith is incomplete
Without my surrender
To The Angels
Who simultaneously raise me above the mundane
While keeping me grounded.

Faith and surrender:
Being my path,
Being in my moment,
Asking The Angels,
“Are you with me?”
And listening with my soul
To their answer.

“Yes,” they always respond
And
I laugh at myself
For
Having needed to ask yet again.