The Story Stealer

Do we need to believe in stories and their charm, their power to transform?

If we did not believe in stories, we would not be meeting here.

I believe in stories as much as I believe in color and texture, taste and all the other senses by which we know we are.

I like being. I don’t want to be nothing like some say is blissful. How could it be bliss if it is nothing?

I know. Some refer to no self as merging with divinity and I can handle that because divinity is all inclusive. You don’t lose anything but boundaries on your freedom to experience life and death.

But to say that we ought to deny the stories of our lives? How ghastly.

I mean, seriously ghost like.

Tell the stories! For goodness sake.

Keep life the love of your dreams and live.

Stone Lions

I was being evicted, unjustly. A tyrant had burst into my home and found a litter box and said I had to leave because I had a cat.

He was screaming; the veins in his head were bulging and angry.

Another man came and sat on the floor beside me. He said he could help me buy a home so I would not have to rent. It sounded too good to be true.

He had to run out to his car because his baby was crying. He brought the baby in and put her beside me by the window. She was in a car seat. I was disturbed when I uncovered her and saw that she was a mechanical baby and not real because this man obviously thought his baby was real.

I was forced out of the house by the army and went across the street to an abandoned house where my friends were waiting to offer support. The cats found their was there too.

But I know the police would come for me and the did. I was wearing a long, red velvet robe with black trim. I was naked underneath.

I told my friends to save the two stone lions that were in the window guarding me. I told them I still wanted to keep the Lions even if I had to surrender to the authoroties.

There were two other main themes of betrayal, but I won’t go into them here.

It Is So Easy To Be At Ease

I am light.

At my core, I am light.

I am energy. At my core I am free.

Every cell of my body is made of this light

and every morning, I remember my true nature.

Every cell of my body remembers truth

and vibrates accordingly, washing away falsity with waves

and waves of light.

When illness or fatigue surfaces, I can easily and objectively

recognize it, treat myself with lovingkindness and tune into the

light that I am at my core.

I don’t have to control this light; I trust it.

I know who I am. I am love.

Love is the energy that propels me onward.

Love is the energy that holds me close and protects me.

I am light. Light is love is action. I know who I am.

I know just what I need to do at each moment of the day or night.

I draw on the light and energy that is alive and well at my core; I invite the light and love that I am at my core to flow through every aspect of my life here and now.

I trust the intelligence that scatters the stars and stacks the grains of sand in the sea to take care of my needs. I can let go of all anxiety and float on a sea of light, carried by waves of love in an ocean that says, :I am…I am…I am. and all is well.

I am, I am, I am, and all is well.

I am, I am, I am, and all is well.

I am a conduit of light. I can be of service just as I am. I am good for the planet and good for my community. I am light. I remember who I am and act accordingly.

It is so easy to be me. It is so easy to be.

 ” tayatha om bekandze bekandze maha bekandze radza samudgate soha.”

— The Medicine Buddha Chant

(Poetic translation: It’s like this: Freedom from all suffering in mind, body and spirit, great and small suffering gone, like a kingdom of abundant joy, this is the medicine of enlightenment; this is the medicine on your lips and in your throat as you chant. All beings benefit.)

For Hailie

I’m feeling morose,

but for the most part, I know

it will go away tomorrow–

this feeling that time is flying by

and I am only dazzeled by the sky

when it is full of clouds.

Because when the sky is clear

I too clearly see what lies in front, to the sides or behind me.

But when the clouds are up to whatever they care to be

I feel, when I look, like it’s only Infinity and me.

No one can hurt or chide or scorn someone who’s got her eyes turned up

and out. The sky makes one feel as if all that is out there, is actually in.

But have you ever tried to hold a cloud in your arms and sing lullabies

to the fleeting wind that floats them away before you can tuck a Mare’s Tail blanket under their chin?

A cloud, no matter how brightly it reflects the sun

can never hold your hand, or sing a song that you once taught her, to one of her own.

In 1984, a star fell from that very sky, and brought to me, a daughter.

The tune, by, Earth, Wind and Fire, Shining Star, got me through labor.

I still sing those words, though it is dark without her for company.

“Shining star for all to see what this life can truly be.”

You are a shining star and the sky is not empty.

Cloudy or clear night or day, when I look at the sky,

not only do I remember from whence you came,

but I remember holding you, tender and near,

before any of my stupid mistakes

made my daughter, my sunshine, only seem to disappear.

i know you are there. Somewhere. Shining for someone,

for all to see,

what this life can be.

Citrine Bird

The golden cage was not being built to keep the bird inside it as much as it was to keep the cats out.

But the maker did not want to obstruct the bird’s view, nor did she want to keep the beautiful yellow creature from the sight of onlookers.

Citrine was helpful to look at and helpful to hold, but not for cats,of course.

So the cage was being scrutinized for the least obstructive and most protective construction.

Nothing worked.

The wires went askew and crossed over each other and ended up in a golden, crooked heap.

The maker began to think: “IF the bird could fly, she could easily get away from cats, and she could swoop and sweep through the air in the sunlight and show everyone her healing light.

So instead of a cage, she gave the bird the gift of flight.

But no wings.

The Citrine Bird was only going to be able to fly when worn on the heart of a pure woman.

And it was for that one woman that the bird had been formed.

What was not expected, but delighted all concerned was that both woman and bird could fly when she wore the bird around her neck.

Of course, she tried it on the Buddha first, only to see how it would look on a pure one. The she took it and wore it with great joy.

And that is how the story of the Citrine Bird and the Wise Woman begins.