Inside Job

image from amazon.com

Inside Job

“Raise your words, not your voice, It is rain that 

grows flowers, not thunder”--Rumi.

Rumi and Cayce tell us

we are not a body

who has a soul, rather

we are a soul

who has a body.

I try to believe

that a true healer

allows their higher self

to communicate directly

with your higher self,

asking permission for the healing.

I have had to accept

that my higher self answers with

a resounding NO--the meat known

as Glenn has more to learn, 

the Bardo plan for me clearly

has had me fighting and dealing

with a mysterious series of

serious autoimmune processes

for thirty years and counting.

It has led me mercilessly

deeper and deeper into

the terrible darkness and icy depths

of damnable Disability.

I endeavor with every breath

to own and to thank

the metaphysical outline

that I, essentially, designed for my self;

even though I admit to often railing against it

         as I drop a crystal bowl

         or take an eventful fall,

         or swallowing chronic meds,

         or giving up driving and hiking.

My gracious, mostly clear mind allows me

         to continue to write poetry,

       to cheer on my wife to pursue world travel,

         to vigorously speak truth to power,

         to host my own photography site,

to keep the synapses snapping sans Sodoku,

to keep the cognitive cobwebs to a minimum,

so that when I am not shaking my raging fists,

gritting my angry teeth, 

or screaming at the Universe,

I am able to dispense and receive

LOVE,

from my family

and several international communities 

of bone fide cyber-friends.

The old boar does not

eat the cubs as before; now

loves and plays with them.

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub