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A friend recently said that we write so we can live. Writing so I can live has
sort of crept up on me in the same way that change has already been happening long
before it is noticed. I remember having a diary when I was young, but in the
impulsiveness of my youth, my early writings were not saved, save for in my
own heart and mind. My formal journal keeping began in earnest in 1976, and
it is honest to say that through the seasons of my life, writing has become a
vital component to my soul.
Joel said that poetry is hard to sell. I understand what he is saying. In the words
of Dom Inacio de Loyola, “For those who believe, no words are necessary: for those
who do not believe, no words are possible.”
Please share with others as you are guided. All inspiration comes freely to
be shared freely as well.
You are invited to walk these hallways as an invited guest for whom the space
has been prepared for you. Sit for a spell. Ponder. Browse. Skip. Enjoy your
visit here in the way that is perfect for you. And when you leave, take only
the love. Take only the love....
Debra
Dark Feelings
Some days are darker than others.
Yet, knowing that the darkness within and around me
Put one foot in front of the other.... I hear that familiar tune.
December 1, 2011
Oh, dare you to draw from me my own lifeblood.
Today may bring sunshine,
Damn free will.
I am free only to play the past like a fiddle on Saturday night
Far from fun, the race within must be the only way out.
No searching has yielded even a hint of the peace I say I want.
Tomorrow I will begin anew.
I will write my own story, and I will make sure the hero is me.
I will bring myself home on the breath of higher consciousness.
I will dance in the rain of my own tears if I have to,
I could have won an Emmy,
Shine on me, oh moon of my dreams.
Debra — June 2011
Once in every life a door opens leaving one breathless.
Will the saga paint a grim picture—sad, alone, afraid?
Greater waves of living await all. Hearts beating wildly in the breeze.
Dance in the moonlight! Drink in the seas!
Once you were tiny, once you were grand.
I cried last night; a deep mournful sound rising up from my throat,
What terror finds me standing at the threshold clinging to the known
Choice. Always choice.
Yes, choice is the freedom no prison can hold.
Feel the grass growing. Seek hummingbird’s flight.
One final goodbye, to all that is known.
Throw back your head, laugh right out loud
~ Written on Sunday, September 5, 2010, the morning before I flew to Thailand.
Two poems by Sindy McCord
Some days it is difficult to feel the light.
means only a change in my awareness, not in the eternal presence
of the light itself, guides my way.
I trust those one steps, honoring the truth of the light in the midst of the dark feelings.
It is pain as thick as fleas, and fear as ephemeral
as August mist that keeps my heart from beating
with the passion I weep for.
but none has yet found its way into my thinking.
where not even the combs have teeth.
remembering over and over and over again
the director sits behind my eyes.
but it would have been for best supporting role,
when I was born to be a star.
I will walk your beams back to my own heart.
Leaving one to decide how the story will be told.
Or shall your soul lift the veil and look beyond illusion.
Letting go of the familiar, welcoming myriad of destinies.
Laugh at the nightmare. Fall to your knees.
Live life as a prayer to the divine.
Now you are flying—where will you land?
On your feet, Dear One. Cats always do.
echoing through the halls of my memories.
when I could instead rush headlong into life?
Choose you this day whom you will serve.
Awaken with the decision to live your life bold.
For now it is morning but soon again night.
Standing on tiptoes, saying, “I’ve grown!”
Before you give in, give up instead.
Release all the crazies, get up out of bed.
For one thing is certain....
You’re not following the crowd!
January 2, 2011
As I look outside at the snow on the big pine
that reaches for my window.
I am reminded
of the newness of spring,
and
that soon,
it will warm again
and
light will fill the nights.
As they always “really do”
from light, illuminated
from the stars.
The dove spoke this morning,
its coos echo towards the morning sun,
as it rose up
against my heart,
against yours.
Its white breast
sang a sacred tune,
deep enough to touch the depth
of all that is our illusions.
Soft enough
to invite us,
once again
to our spring embrace.
May winter teach us solace,
may it remind us of the cold,
that only holds us for a moment,
before the warmth of love.
Sindy McCord
Remember
Remember
There is nothing to achieve
Remember
There is nothing to become
Remember you are already that which you have been seeking
Remember
You have sought in different ways
Remember
You have sought on different paths
Remember
Sit down
Remember
Close your eyes
Remember
Make note of where you have been
Remember
Make note of what depth you have been able to reach
Remember
Look in
Remember
Taste the silence
Remember
Taste disappearing into the ultimate
Remember
Look in
Remember
You have time
Remember
You know the way
Remember
Go again and again to the inner space
Remember
So that your fear of disappearing is dropped
Remember
And you start remembering the forgotten language of your soul
More Poetry by Debra
Once in every life a door opens
leaving one breathless
Leaving one to decide
how the story will be told
Will the saga painted be a grim picture
sad, alone, afraid?
Or shall your soul lift the veil
and look beyond illusion.
Greater waves of living await all
hearts beating wildly in the breeze
Letting go of the familiar
welcoming myriad destinies
Dance in the moonlight
drink in the seas
Laugh at the nightmare
fall to your knees
Live life as a prayer to the divine
Once you were tiny
once you were grand
Now you are flying
where will you land
On your feet, Dear One, cats always do
~ Debra Basham (October 15, 2004)
What terror finds me standing at the threshold clinging to the known when I could instead rush headlong into life?
Choice. Always choice.
"Choose you this day whom you will serve."
Yes, choice is the freedom no prison can hold. Awaken with the decision to live your life bold.
Feel the grass growing. Seek hummingbird's flight. For now it is morning but soon again night.
One final goodbye to all that is known, standing on tippy toes, saying, “I’ve grown.”
Before you give in, give up instead. Release all the crazies, get up out of bed!
Throw back your head, laugh right out loud, for one thing is certain, you’re not following the crowd.
~ Debra Basham (September 5, 2010—the day before my departure to Thailand)
Rains come, as if by magic and I must shelter myself.
Sun shines and I understand for the first time that it just is
I have not been singled out to be cursed or blessed,
I have participated in the way it is.
I can relax now, trusting that the way it is is the way it is meant to be.
I can rejoice now as I surrender to the present moment.
I can be comforted to know that what I am and what I will be and what I will have been is all in divine order.
The grace of god dances in my heart as I do my letting go.
How do I know if I have “let go and let god?”
Is the sign my joy and contentment?
Can I have let go without letting god as well?
How many children are gathered in this grace? All.
How many recognize it? Few.
How may I help? Be there now.
~ Debra Basham (July 7, 2002)
I stand quivering before the leap out of myself and into mySelf!!!!!!
It is as though I am perched above life itself and I can see out over the horizon in all directions... feelings unfold before me to my left and to my right.... each has a life of it's own, yet has no life at all....
The years stretch beyond years and yet fall into nothingness.... as all moments become one...
Laughter belches up within me and dares to give voice with no thought to the shame that might follow.... and silence sucks the breath out of me and leaves me for dead.... only to be once more drawn from the ashes...
If this is an awakening, then I must be mad... and if it is not, then surely I am. I long to write, to give words to this depth... to let the dance dance me... to let the song sing me... to let the death die upon my breast.
Can one lose oneself? Can one go to sleep and never wake up? Can the madness rule the house of one's soul forever? Or can there be nothing but this endless mirage of life moving one in spite of one's willingness or resistance?
I am a willing eagle. I am a willing frog. I am a willing birch and blade. I will allow the music to blow through my boughs and I shall throw my head back and laugh once more until the tears take over and then I shall begin again and again and again...
I lift my cup to my lips and say yes to life!!!
~ Debra Basham, Saturday 18 Dec 1999
I sought you, o god, in the wind But you were not to be found in the wind.
I sought you, o god, in the calm But you were not to be found in the calm.
I sought you in the rain and in the drought. I sought you in the cold and in the heat. I sought you in the light and in the dark. And I found you not.
But when I stopped seeking You found me in the wind and in the calm. You touched me in the rain and you moistened my being in the drought.
You warmed me in the chill and you blew gentle breezes in the hot passions of my pain.
You cast the shadow to play with my mind and you brought the truth to lie beside me as I fell, too exhausted to run from the All That Is.
My soul thirsts for that which refreshes not. Freedom comes as I drink in all that you have given me this day the bitter and the sweet; the dashing and the sublime.
Your name is whispered in it all, yet not one single note can tell me who you are or who I am. I am the alpha and the omega. I am the past and the future. I am the passing away and that which is eternal.
So on this day, in catching a glimpse of the All That Is, I see you in every leaf, every flake, every drop.
I breathe in the gift of the trees and I give back to that which has given all to me.
~ Debra Basham @ Still Waters, Tuesday 4/27/04
How does one desire to live and desire to die all at the same instant? I long for release from this yearning yet yearn for the release to never come. I am willing to stay suspended in this state and let the days blend into nothingness.
No longer able to hold on, I slide into the foam of the divine. The angels sing to me as the rapture embraces my body and lifts my soul out into the way beyond. I may be found, I may be lost, it matters not to me at all. All that matters from this place in no time is that I am here. I am now.
Laughter carries me away from the demands of the day. As I follow the pied piper, I find myself on the yellow brick road that leads me to tears. I am pitched and tossed amidst these feelings, yet I know that I am safe and secure, never having left the port. How do I grab onto anything stable? I do not even try.
What has come over me is the enemy of my dream. I held steady for so long. I was the rock. I was the island. I was the one whom nothing could touch. Now, the walls have crumbled. I lie wasted before the crowd. They will have their way with me and I am not even interested in attempting to prevent the massacre. It is not I they touch. I am not here.
I am in a far away place where the sun is shining and you are here with me. It is not you and I against the world. It is I and I and I and I. I Am one with all that is. I remember the joy of the union. It is still warm in my breast. It is the eternal being-ness. It is what is.
~ Debra Basham 2003
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