Fumes

What I run on
What you do not know
What fuels me with a passion
Others can only envy
Is knowing just how far beyond
Empty I am running running running

See that snow upon the land
That cloaks the earth in a dead whiteness
My soul knows it as rolling greens
And lush fields that will always provide
If I continue to allow myself to believe and be
In the spirit flowing through my soul my veins

Overdrawn bank accounts and maxed-out credit cards
And empty cupboards and empty gas tanks are no obstacles
When looking with more than the eyes
Speaking with more than the lips
Doing with more than the body
And living with more than the life

What I run on is amused by all things empty
Empty fears promoted by marketers fear mongers
So-called leaders of our land who live in shadows
Created and poured into towers of what-if-
fuming-combustibles-lacking-only-a-spark-explode-
worse-case-scenarios and who pull the strings
Of frantic marionettes thrashing around me

This puppets strings forever snapped
Connected to the power within this moment
Of unstable combustible fumes becoming
Cleansed air flowing in flowing out
With my every meditative breath

Can you hear the butterfly sing
In harmony with the air flowing
Over its translucent wings?

© 2017 by John David Higham: All Rights Reserved
Photo: Butterfly (Windfall, PA: 2016)

The Universe Told Me (The Droplet)

IMG_7300

The Universe told me
To contemplate
The numerous miracles
Of the droplet.

Though it can fall for infinity
And land with a splat,
It is not destroyed.
It can be absorbed
Or, if rejected
Finds its way across a surface
While simultaneously
Gently wearing it away.

Heat does not destroy it,
Instead transforming it into steam, into vapor
So that it may become airborne
And carried about by the winds,
Its evolution creating the beauty of mist rising,
Rainbows and clouds.
Indeed, it can become fog

Cold turns it into an expanded substance
That breaks through all confining prisons.

It has the power to suffocate fire
While being necessary for all life;
Partnering with air and sun
To help make things grow.

Under pressure it flows, its strength
Gathering with each additional drop around it,
Having the power to gouge great channels
In solid rock.

It gracefully accepts the shape of its container
Though always finds its way through
Even the smallest of openings.

It flows naturally toward other droplets
To help create creeks, streams,
Rivers, bays, and oceans possible only
When they are in the same exact spot.
The Universe taught me
To become the droplet;
To splat,
To flow,
To transform,
To break through,
To suffocate flames that harm,
To nurture,
To partner,
To be,
To accept,
To find my way,
To merge.

 

© Copyright 2016 by John David Higham

Photo: Anniversary View at Niagara Falls (May 10, 2016)

 

 

 

When I Am the Rainbow

IMG_7115

When I am the rainbow
And the colors are mine,
And my colorblindness means nothing,
And my failure
And my achievements
Mean nothing.

When I am the multiple light rays
Moving united across the universe,
Showing its spectrum
For all to know,
For all to see,
For all to pause.

When I am more
Than my body,
When I am more
Than my debts,
When I am more
Than my anxieties,
When I am more
Than my definitions:
Then my soul is again vibrant.

See how this
Glistening ray of color
Bursts from my third eye
Across the sky
Behind the thunderous storms
Above it,
Above the churning waters
Beneath it,
Beneath the heavens
Blessing this union of sun and water.

Find this union, this rainbow
Within you
And live its colors
As they line your path,
As they enliven your journey,
As they enlighten your soul.

You are then the rainbow…

 

© Copyright 2016 by John David Higham

Photo: Being the Rainbow (Niagara Falls, May 2016)

 

 

A Day of Love Yourself Begins

March 2015 Windfall Sky

 

A day of love yourself
Begins with being gently released
By the dream world’s hands
Into
The view of the sunrise,
The noise of the mind,
The realities of the waking world.

Pause now.
Allow yourself
To revisit those sensations
That embraced you
In the dream world:
The views of the dreamscape,
The sounds in that world.,
The realities of your dream world.

In those moments
Allow yourself to feel
As your dream self felt,
And say aloud those words
That might flow through you,
No matter how silly they sound
As they will form a dream mantra.

This is how you love yourself,
This is how you find your dream self:
Do not try to reason,
Do not be sucked into the
Ego trap of figuring things out:
Go beyond the seductive logic
Into the experiential,
Into the dream moment,
Into your dream being
And just feel.

Accept the truth of knowing
That which feels foreign
May not be yours,
May not be the present,
May not be the past,
May not be the future
But it is most certainly real.

Ah, a day of love yourself begins…

 

© copyright 2016 John David Higham

Photo: Windfall Spring Sky  (March, 2015)

 

 

 

Can You Accept Your Gifts (You Are, You Are…)

 

IMG_4312

 

When you know
The soul of a stranger
Just by looking at her photo,
Or taste bloody glass
An hour before
Coming upon an accident,
Can you look at yourself
With an eye so honest,
With an eye so otherworldly
That you know
Not only who you are,
But exactly what you are?

When you know
The cold feel
Of death
In the eyes of the child living
And it comes to pass
Despite what you want,
Despite what you beg
And what silence you harbored
Because you were directed
To not speak,
To not warn.

When you know
By looking at the face
Of a distant classmate’s daughter
That she is not being
Called to cross over
And you write those words
With all conviction
And without
Any doubt
And don’t need “proof”
Or to say, “I told you so”
Because you know
Those were not your words,
Those were not your thoughts.

When you know
The carnal joys a couple has
Miles away
And your body responds
As if it is your joy
And you can hear their passion
And feel their hands
Upon your flesh
And know the joys
And know the passion
And know the hands
Are not yours.

And your mind
Is racing with all your terror,
Is racing with all your fear
Of being judged,
Of being diagnosed
But you know
That these connections
Are not of your making,
But are only of your path
And people say that you are different
And that you creep them out
And that you are crazy
But it’s all flowing in
So rapidly (So slowly)
You must take notice (You question it)
Then at best you just
Surrender to it
And trust that it will
All be sorted out
By forces
So much greater than you,
So much greater than you.

You are, you are
Like me
Way beyond this world
Way beyond this place
As your sensitivity
Makes you stronger
(Than the pain you feel ripping
Through your soul by knowing
All that you know)
That is not yours
And the joy that simultaneously vibrates
Inside your soul like singing bowl.

You are, you are
Going where you need to be
Away from all this
A part of all this
Listening to voices
That don’t need to speak,
Poetry that calls itself life,
Love that is way beyond romantic.

“Magical thinking,”
“Manifesting,”
“Glowing”
Is all the same to me
The future is the past is the now
As I listen to what
I am told
And laugh aloud at my silly fears
Because they are all connected
To this mundane waking world
Of mine.

You are, you are
Hearing others listen
Feeling other’s emotions
Knowing other’s futures
In your infinite heres and nows.

We who see,
We who know
(You are,
You are …)
Such things; we
Are not the damned
Are not the wise;
We are just
Visiting
Inside our bodies
Inside our lives
On spiritual vacation.

Can you
Accept your gifts?
Can you
Be these gifts
And
Not be corrupted,
Not be compromised,
Not be confused
Or whine like a puppy
Even as you sob
At all that you know
And are directed to accept?

You are,
You are…

Power and strength
Comes
From knowing,
Comes
From being,
Comes
From The Universe
Flowing
Through me via
The
Senses
Into
My soul
Connected
As I am to the Earth,
Connected
As I am to the seas,
Connected
As I am to the sky,
Connected
As I am to you.
We are just
Pipes through which
The Great Spirit flows;
You are,
You are…

 

© copyright 2016 John David Higham

 

Photo: Reflections  (DFW People Mover: February, 2016)

I Get to Fly (I Get to Love… Again)

Edmonds Oct 7 2015 058

On the Empire Builder at Edmonds, Washington (October, 2015)

 

I get to fly,
Like a bird of a feather.
I get to walk
Through crowded
And
Deserted terminals
And
Watch people
Running, walking,
Riding
On their way
To,
On their way
From:
Too, I get to walk,
Run, and ride
With them
For at least a bit.
I get to fly
Somewhere;
I get to love… again.

I get to watch
Them sleep on planes
And sofas
And against each other,
And stand with them
Outside of airplane lavs
And make small talk
And feel how
They respond
To the bumpity, bump,
Bump of turbulence
At 39k feet.

I get to see
The excitement
In their souls
As they approach
Their vacations,
Their loved ones,
Their homes
And I get to embrace
My anticipation
That comes
With standing
At the arrival area
At PHX
In the dry heat,
Texting Kathy
As I walk toward
The street
On which she will arrive,
Knowing that
Her warm touch,
Our crazy loving moments,
And champagne bubbles
Await.

I get the red eye,
The short hop,
The puddle-jump,
The upgrade,
The check-in,
The baggage check
(And the fate it brings!),
The shuttle,
The economy lot,
The Lyft,
The ferry,
The train,
The valet,
The lounge,
The priority lane,
The frequent flier miles,
And the recited take-off
Instructions:
I get it all in 2200 mile commutes.

I get to talk
To strangers
About their passions,
About their families,
About their dreams.
I get to listen
To their words
And feel their hopes,
And share myself
As I click pictures
Of my views,
Write poetry,
And edit my works.

I get to wait
Outside
The terminal
And
Watch people
Hugging and smiling
As
I text my wife
At the end
Of my
Cross-country commute
And
We navigate
Around all those
Frickin’ idiots who parked
In the loading zones,
Laughing at them
Becoming impatient
At
Having been blocked in!

I get to love… again.
I get the pillow talks,
The facetimes,
The “coolness,”
The Olans,
The tooth things,
The “Bitches,”
The selfies,
The passion and the romance,
The bliss,
The abundance and the miracles;
I get it all:
We are The Lovers.

I get to fly
Out of the cage
That was once my life,
That felt like my death
But was really
Just my incubation.

At times,
I float like a butterfly,
Fluttering in
Love and light
Flowing over my wings.

Other times,
I soar like an Eagle
As the spirits
Of love, possibility, and hope
Of faith and surrender
Lift me
Far above
Who I once was.

Still, at other times,
I am the owl
Perched above
The darkened world
And seeing everything.
Or,
I am the crow
Shifting shape, time
Shifting place
From the here and now
To
The there and then.

I get to watch
The sun set,
The sun rise
Above the country
I had taken a train across,
I had driven across
So many lifetimes ago.

I get to love
Again; this time for keeps
With no returns
Or intermissions.
Forty thousand miles
Into this love
And I’m even more excited
About loving,
About flying,
About life’s
Endless miracles.

I am bliss now;
I get to fly.
I get to love… again.

Even TSA routines
Makes me smile,
As
Does the airport food
And
The little DH-8s,
The 757s sans WiFi,
The cramped A321s and A330s,
And
Taxicab drivers
Scaring the shit
Out of me as they race
A crappy yellow mini-van
To the Bainbridge Ferry
On a chilly Seattle night,
Or speaking in some language
Unknown to my tongue
In a Philly rush hour.

Hell, it all makes me smile:
I get to love again
After having known
That experience for so long
In only bits and pieces,
Living voluntarily in
Intimate relationships
Where I rescued
And lived lives
I thought others wanted.
My own co-dependent fool
I was then,
Grounded
And caged by my fear
Of being me,
Struggling to be
Someone else’s
Idea of the man
I could never be.

I get to fly
In this love
Like I’ve never flown before,
Like I’ve never loved before.
What a sacred journey I am on
With the self-awareness to match.
I get to grove on the feeling
Of fifty thousand pounds
Of thrust as machinery
As large as a house
Rises into the air,
Yanks me off the ground,
And allows me
To once again embrace
The Angels’ view.

I get to smile
And laugh with glee
At those moments
When the plane and I are racing
With all the universe’s might
Along the runway
And into the infinite sky,
And into our infinite love.

I get to fly,
I get to love… again,
Each moment of both
Warming my soul,
Freeing me from the ground
That I once stood on
And the past me
Who once held me down.

 

© copyright 2016 John David Higham

IMG_6088

Wheels down at sunset: Chemung County, New York (April, 2016)

Yes, I Know (The Badass)

 

July 14 2015 Sedona and Phoenix 093

Sunset Rainbow: Sedona, July 2015

 

Yes, I know
With my soul
The pain, the hurt,
The trauma inflicted
On you
By you
On your path.

Yes, I know
How the Shadow of Valley of Death
Feels, looks, and smells:
I’ve traveled through it several times
In both the waking and dream worlds.

I am The Badass
I don’t take evil cosmic crap lightly
And won’t sit still for it.

You may prefer
To call me The Warrior Monk,
But I prefer The Badass
Because I’ve been knocked down
So many fucking times,
Been reduced to ashes,
Dead beyond death,
Abandoned,
Mocked,
Ridiculed,
Judged
Only to spring back up
By yet another miracle
And land again
(Stronger,
So much stronger
Than
The burning Hells
That had taken me down)
On my two feet,
Thankful for The Angels
Who summoned the wind
That gathered my ashes;
Who summoned the rain
That cemented those flakes;
Who summoned the sun
That hardened me into spiritual stone;
Who summoned the moon
That ignited my intuition;
Who summoned the eagle
That awakened my spirit.

I fear not chaos
For it allows me
To let go of control
And surrender to faith;
I fear not evil
For it allows me
To find the good
In all people
In all situations;
I fear not homelessness
For I know my soul
Always has a home;
I fear not pain
For I know
Such intense searing wounds
Bring profound healing;
I fear none of this
For I know the many avenues
Of love
Of faith
Of strength
And trust in The Inner Voice
And The Angels
Who surround
And flow through me.

Death?
I know it will come
And I harbor
No fear of crossing over;
For why should The Angels
Desert me then?
They’ve never left me:
It was I who deserted them
When overwhelmed
By the endless desolation
As the fires of hell
Incinerated my life
And purified my soul.

You
Who have loss,
You
Who have pain,
You
Who have suffering;
Yes, I know
You may want to give up on you
When
Instead you should just
Surrender,
When
Instead you should just
Stay the course,
When
Instead you should just
See Your Angels
All around you,
Embrace your miracles,
And become
Your own Badass.

Yes, I know
It is a struggle.
Yes, I know
It is hell.
Yes, I know
You will evolve.

 

© copyright 2016 John David Higham

Little Minds, Little Minds

PHL to SETAC to Sedona 3 20 16 088

Little minds,
Little minds
Please don’t
Distort, defile, define
My reality;
I don’t need
Your language of violence,
Your language of oppression,
Your language of fear.

Little minds,
Little minds
Please
Go run and play with
Someone else’s soul
And leave mine alone;
I am not your playground.

Little minds,
Little minds
Your swirling evil
Blurs my vision,
Hurts my ears
And numbs my skin.

Little minds,
Little minds
Please:
I sojourn through worlds
That you won’t
Allow yourself to comprehend.

Little minds,
Little minds
Please
Let me bring you here,
But you have to
First
Free yourself
Of the violence that binds you
Of the oppression that binds you
Of the fear that binds you.

Little minds,
Little minds,
Thank you for being
And
Thank you for teaching
Me patience, serenity,
And temperance
Again.

 

© copyright 2016 John David Higham