Maze

Maze

Lost in the maze of illusions and dead-end alleys.
we stretch out our hands as blindfolded eyes.

Feeling touching we keep bumping into the same walls
not knowing that the blindfold is within ourselves.

On a day, when the knot unties,
staying foot behind a thorn bush,
we blink and we see
that there are no walls …

Innocent

Innocent

Product of genes and conditioning,
We do what we must do.

When conscious of what we do,
we: product of genes and conditioning,
light twinkles in from deep, deepdown.

Light throws herself upon us, on what we do and
shows us in the end
that Light is what we are.

And in that Light all what we did
was the best we ever could,
then, without the Light.

The Light shows us so tenderly
that we are innocent …

Christmas story

Christmas story

It was Christmas Eve and you came to me. It was a cold and clear night, stars at the sky and a full moon. In silence we packed everything: sleeping bag, hot tea, candles, some food, a rug and a torch. We put on our boots, hat, mittens and a shawl.

We got into the car and went our way. It was dark, although the moon was there and it was silent. Most people were inside. The trees along the little roads guided us as true keepers. The little roads winded through the countryside. When the tar ended, we parked the car on the sandy path, got our stuff and started walking.

The torch lit the path in front of us as we walked our way in the deepest silence, accompanied by the stars and the moon. We were heading towards the place I knew so well. The place that had comforted me, encouraged me, supported me and embraced me. The place that gave me joy, gratitude and stillness.

There, we put down the rug, wrapped the sleeping bag around us and sat down. The vast stillness touched us. The ground and the sky were one in darkness.

In silence we sat, drinking the still darkness, sunk into the depths within. The first waves came. A ripple, then a wave and then a tidal wave. Streams of tears, sounds, movement came and went away.

Feeling took the place of wanting. Surrender took the place of fear. Gratitude took the place of uncertainty. Abundance poured out of each pore. The heathland received all tears, all emotions. The ground on which we sat, flooded fear with gratitude and uncertainty with surrender.

You and me sat silently with tears on our cheeks. The shooting stars didn’t make a single noise. The first clouds started to hide the moon. Darkness surrounded us more and more. We looked at each-other. Our tears glittered in the candle light. We drank our hot tea.

The waves disappeared together with the light of the stars and the moon. What was left was stillness that came to shore, here, in this heat-land.

We rose, folded the rug, packed the basket and rolled the sleeping bag. In silence we walked back to where we came from. The wind blew in our face now and the first snowflakes stayed on our coats.

Then nature started to whisper: “You didn’t come to me; I came to Me”, the branches swept in our face. “You didn’t come to me; you came to You”, the grass hummed. “You didn’t come to me; I was always here “, the heat-land rustled. Never were these sentences so familiar as they were now on this Christmas Eve. Tears filled my eyes: tears of recognition; tears of stillness; tears of gratitude. And you, you were there: inseparably connected and not connected. You went with me, all days and nights. You walk with me: all nights and days. There is no difference between you and me. There is no you and me. There only is …

More

More 

‘More’ is now all around us
In shops and in ourselves
What do you think you get
With more and more and more?

What do you search in ‘more’
That never can be found?
What does ‘more’ give you now
That finally will leave you?

When ‘less’ will meet you out there
And looks at you and holds you
Then it could just be so,
That ‘more’ no longer lasts …

Receive

Receive

When clouds asided
In that dark night
And thousand stars appeared
I held you and I felt
The tears pour out of you

The ground on which we sat
Received all dripping tears
And went on with the whisper
That woodsoil’s meant for that

When clouds appeared again
And rain began to fall
The tears were every raindrop
And raindrops every tear …

Holy?

Holy?

If life is holy
And death is helly
How would it be for us
When nothing ever dies?

How would it be for us
If death is holy too
How would that be for you?

Would death be there in joy
Like life is there in joy
Would you be free of fear
That death you sometimes brings?

Could death be life as well
And birth also be dying
And you for ever being
From which all’s ever born …