Remind me ~Jeremy Goldberg (I love this!)

Remind me to always lie with you, but never to you, and that hurt only hurts while it lasts. Remind me to hold hands but never hold back.
Remind me of love, remind me of heart, and remind me that life will not tear me apart today, but if it tries and when it does, remind me that I’m good enough to be enough for you.
Remind me that the only way to make it last is to put us first, and remind me that the past is a prelude and pain is a choice, that I’ll get knocked down but I can get up quick, and yes, I’ll get destroyed but I can rebuild again.
When you see me flailing in rough seas, coughing up lungfuls of dark waves, and I’m thinking I’m sinking because my arms are numb and I can’t feel my legs, remind me with a hushed assurance and a knowing grin, “You’ll drown slower if your chin’s up, friend.”
Remind me to have faith.
Remind me why I love you.
Remind me that the stargaze stares we share and the galaxies we wish to explore are inside, not above, that the paths we long to travel are internal, not foreign, and remind me when my dreams seem lost like faraway lands in disrepair, that you’ll hold my hand and always care.
Remind me that it’s me you think about when you wish for happily ever after.
Remind me that not all aches are bad, that black nights still shine light and even in rainstorms or when hail comes and the sky is filled with emptiness we run from, the sun is always out somewhere.
Remind me that I am filled with light.
Remind me why your eyes do such funny things to mine and how, sometimes, time stops in the shadow of your smile.
Remind me that storm clouds are just water up high in the sky, that water is needed, that water gives life, and though it may arrive in drops of sweat or tears of strife, remind me that I can heal.

Remind me to keep you close but to never go too far, and remind me that even if we feel like a lifetime stopped and stuck in its tracks like a frozen statue of our distant past, even if it feels like pointless paralysis or a beginner’s magic trick, even when we resemble an empty well all out of wishes, remind me it will be okay and already is.

Remind me that you are strong, and remind me so am I.
Remind me that you aren’t scared when, can’t run from, won’t hide, and don’t mind my pain when it’s all I know and feel and fear.
Remind me that we’ll never know how it ends until it does, and even then, it doesn’t because what we have and who we are isn’t something we can just pack up and leave behind, like some kind of shooting star in some cold and fleeting night.
Remind me how I love getting lost in you.
Remind me that you are an adventure worth taking and never forgetting.
Remind me it starts now, today, for always in all ways, and remind me to remind you of this, all of it, always in all ways.

A FORMLESS LOVE, FORMING

Love is greater than us. We do not generate it with words and deeds, or even intentions, but we are continually embraced by it, held in its vastness, no matter what we do, or do not.
We are married, we divorce; we are friends, we are lovers; we break up, we break together; we are born, we die; the field endures.
Nobody has ever given us love; that is the great illusion. We have simply remembered the field in each other's presence, sometimes, recognised eternity in the midst of the everyday, then credited another. Love never came from outside of us; we simply touched our own presence, fell into the love that we are, and cannot not be.
And nobody ever took love away from us; we simply forgot the field, and 'blamed' the other, and looked for love again, feeling its absence, lost in a narrative of 'lost love'. Yet love was there, even in its apparent absence; it was present, even in the loss. It cannot be broken; a wave cannot crush the Ocean.
Do not seek love, do not look for the light, but be it, offer it; the joy of loving another is infinitely greater than the joy of fearfully clinging to another's love, for deep down you know it is only an illusion that what you have always longed for could ever have come from outside of you. You are the One; you have always been the One.
The search ends exactly where it began - in presence.

Yes, I am single!

Yes, I’m single. No, I’m not lying.
It doesn’t matter if the question is coming from family, my friend’s husbands or random strangers—it’s an inquiry that suggests that because of the woman I am, I should have been taken off the market long ago.
But, the thing is, I’m not looking to be taken off the market, just so I have someone’s arm to hold onto as I cross the street.
I’ve joked around and told people that not everyone can handle my flavor of awesome. I’ve said that I am too busy with work and my children to date. There have been times I’ve whimsically replied that whenever it’s meant to happen it will and cynical moments where I said well maybe I am meant to be single forever.
In truth, I’m single because I have lost the ability to settle.
I don’t just want company—I want to be wowed, and in all honesty I’m not wowed that easily.
The funny thing is, it’s not about what kind of car a man drives, nor is it found in his possessions, that he brags about, as supposed evidence of his character and worth.
No, what I am looking for can’t be found in any material things.
It’s found in the eyes of a man and in his heart.
The way he approaches the world and how his life is evidence of what he stands for. I’ve realized that I’m not after just any man—I’m only in pursuit of someone who burns as passionately as I do.
The fact is, I don’t really want a boyfriend.
I don’t need someone to play house with and pass the time until we eventually realize we want different things. I don’t need to learn any more lessons from dating different versions of the same man, nor do I need someone to reflect all of my daddy issues or self-worth back to me.
These lessons I’ve learned have not been overnight. This in depth and sometimes scary self-work has been done sitting by myself, learning that I am enough just the way I am.
I’ve got this. I’m not looking for a bargain basement kind of love.
I won’t be sifting through discount love in an attempt to have something, because I would much rather wait it out, do me, and be ready when someone of my caliber and energy level comes around.
I’m honestly single because I am a lot to handle—with colours that defy the logical and a taste that lingers upon the heart. It’s okay that I’m not everyone’s cup of tea—but what I am will be the right fit for someone who understands the complexities of my contradictions.
The question, “How can you be single?” implies that those asked are supposed to be taken, but maybe it’s the people who actually have their act together who remain single the longest.
Relationships aren’t just for pleasure but also for self-growth. Sometimes we need other’s help to teach us the lessons we are too blind to see. But other times the only person to explore our issues with is ourselves.
Because regardless of who it is, or how enlightened they may seem—we’ve all got issues. How they manifest themselves in our lives depends on what stage of awareness and healing we are in.
For a long time, when someone asked me why I was still single, it made me question my relationship status because I couldn’t just team up and date random people like so many seem satisfied with. It was as if something was wrong with me because I didn’t feel a strong desire to fill my social calendar with those wanting to take me to dinner or concerts.
But then I realized, it was because I had fallen in love with myself and my life—as is.
I enjoy my own company, and that of friends and family so much that the only reason I would accept an invitation by a prospective man is if I felt he could add something to my already full life.
I’m not living my life day to day, hoping for the best. No, I am here building my own empire in the sky, and the fact is once a woman has decided to build her own castle she isn’t looking for someone else to do it for her.
Does that mean I think I am superwoman, and that I can do everything on my own? No, not at all. But it does mean that I know the qualities I am looking for, not in a lover or a boyfriend—but in a partner. I want someone whose dreams are just as full as mine, who aspires to a life they can attain with hard work and dedication.
I’m waiting for someone who can match my strength. He will be strong enough so that I don’t always have to be strong. I’m not looking for someone to be like me, but to complement me.
Perhaps the biggest reason that I am still single is that I know exactly what I want.
I am looking for presence in a man. He’ll know how I should be spoken to and how to ignite a fire inside my belly. The fact that I don’t yet have this is okay with me because I do have faith that I will one day.
So, why am I still single?
Because I have decided not to accept less than what I deserve. I have learned that my worth doesn’t lay in the hands of a man. I wake up each day absolutely in love with my life.
Until the day comes when a man comes into my life and enhances what is already here, I will remain single because I’ve found myself. And that is more than half the battle of finding another.

Every Day You Play

Every day you play with the light of the universe.
Subtle visitor, you arrive in the flower and the water.
You are more than this white head that I hold tightly
as a cluster of fruit, every day, between my hands.
You are like nobody since I love you.
Let me spread you out among yellow garlands.
Who writes your name in letters of smoke among the stars of the south?
Oh let me remember you as you were before you existed.
Suddenly the wind howls and bangs at my shut window.
The sky is a net crammed with shadowy fish.
Here all the winds let go sooner or later, all of them.
The rain takes off her clothes.
The birds go by, fleeing.
The wind. The wind.
I can contend only against the power of men.
The storm whirls dark leaves
and turns loose all the boats that were moored last night to the sky.
You are here. Oh, you do not run away.
You will answer me to the last cry.
Cling to me as though you were frightened.
Even so, at one time a strange shadow ran through your eyes.
Now, now too, little one, you bring me honeysuckle,
and even your breasts smell of it.
While the sad wind goes slaughtering butterflies
I love you, and my happiness bites the plum of your mouth.
How you must have suffered getting accustomed to me,
my savage, solitary soul, my name that sends them all running.
So many times we have seen the morning star burn, kissing our eyes,
and over our heads the gray light unwind in turning fans.
My words rained over you, stroking you.
A long time I have loved the sunned mother-of-pearl of your body.
I go so far as to think that you own the universe.
I will bring you happy flowers from the mountains, bluebells,
dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses.
I want
to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.
Pablo Neruda

You are willing to give your heart to others and to this world, for you are seeing that this is why you have come here.

You wondered if as you healed, if as you awakened, you would feel less. But you are seeing that love continues to ask you to feel more. There was an idea that as your heart opened, you would be less vulnerable, less naked, and less exposed – but you are more raw and tender now than you’ve ever been. 

You wondered if as you transformed and stepped fully into the here and now, you would be more detached, not care quite so much, and rest as the ‘witness’ of your life from beyond it all. But, alas, you care so much you are burning up inside. 

You know that things will never be the same, but you still don’t know what is coming next or even where you are, or what is truly being asked of you. This unknowing groundless ground is your home now, and the intelligence and creativity here can feel unbearable. You are being guided by the unseen, the unheard, and the unknown, but this guidance is occurring outside the dense environment of the mind. You are unable any longer to find any sort of reference point from which to orient. 

Look carefully. Stay very close. For this is a sacred disorientation.
The colors, the fragrances, and the sounds of the phenomenal world – it is almost too much. The purples, the blues, the rose, and the birdsong – they have arrived from the other world. It feels like if you allowed the beloved fully inside you that you would fall to the ground in pure astonishment. Yet you long for him or her to fill you. 

As you look up into the morning sky – or into the vastness of dusk – you can’t help but notice that things are colored by a certain tinge of sadness. But this is not the sadness of the mind where something is missing. It is a sadness which is pouring out of your overflowing heart. This sadness is your only yoga now. You are willing to give your heart to others and to this world, for you are seeing that this is why you have come here.
Somehow, by some outrageous grace… the dream of postponement has come to an end. You are here. Now.

Gift by Rabindranath Tagore (A favourite poem)

O my love, what gift of mine
Shall I give you this dawn?
A morning song?
But morning does not last long—
The heat of the sun
Wilts like a flower
And songs that tire
Are done.

O friend, when you come to my gate.
At dusk
What is it you ask?
What shall I bring you?
A light?

A lamp from a secret corner of my silent house?
But will you want to take it with you
Down the crowded street?
Alas,
The wind will blow it out.

Whatever gifts are in my power to give you,
Be they flowers,
Be they gems for your neck
How can they please you
If in time they must surely wither,
Crack,
Lose lustre?
All that my hands can place in yours
Will slip through your fingers
And fall forgotten to the dust
To turn into dust.

Rather,
When you have leisure,
Wander idly through my garden in spring
And let an unknown, hidden flower’s scent startle you
Into sudden wondering—
Let that displaced moment
Be my gift.
Or if, as you peer your way down a shady avenue,
Suddenly, spilled
From the thick gathered tresses of evening
A single shivering fleck of sunset-light stops you,
Turns your daydreams to gold,
Let that light be an innocent
Gift.

Truest treasure is fleeting;
It sparkles for a moment, then goes.
It does not tell its name; its tune
Stops us in our tracks, its dance disappears
At the toss of an anklet
I know no way to it—
No hand, nor word can reach it.
Friend, whatever you take of it,
On your own,
Without asking, without knowing, let that
Be yours.
Anything I can give you is trifling—
Be it a flower, or a song.