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Excerpt for An Open Mind by , available in its entirety at Smashwords


Title Page


Writings by Sha’Ra On WindWalker

(in collaboration with Sha'Tara EarthStar)


Copyright (©) 2018 Cocoons to Butterflies Publishing


Published by: Cocoons to Butterflies Publishing

Chilliwack, B.C. Canada


Cover pictures: Top, Marius Kraemer

Bottom, James Robertson


All pictures found on FreeImages.com


Space Picture: ESA/Hubble


I hope you enjoy these writings. Feedback is welcome.

Contents

Title Page

Foreword

A Piebald Deer Crossed The Road

A Place of Secrets

A solution? Sure

Why?

Spiritual Awakening

Spirit

An Open Mind

Love's Blues

"Know" More Money!

I Awoke

I Remember

Free Energy

The Unfolding

Hold Back The Tears

G a i a

Time And Consequences

What is truth?

There's Talk of Flooding (again!)

What’s In A Name?

  1. Alternate Reality

  2. To The End Of The Universe





Foreword


These books contain a form of free verse poetry, opinions based on observation, and some humour and imagination, engaging the heart as well as the mind. A critical look at many current issues intriguing and plaguing man. Spirituality, interaction with nature and environment, social changes, dwindling resources. Well worn issues now, indeed. But the poetry and other works in these books gives this subject a different perspective. I daresay that here we can find a "higher" vantage point from which to look at ourselves within the cosmos.


Who knows but some of the ideas in the books may get you inspired to do that thing you always wanted to do, even if this comes in a very small way, to make your corner of this world a better place to be in. Who knows but you may realize your little corner is a really nice place to be in after all.


It's all about life, if at times expressing life "outside the box" as the saying goes.

A Piebald Deer Crossed The Road

                    

A piebald deer, white-tailed, crossed the highway

just in front of my truck (today).

It attracts deer, this vehicle:

already had the front end rebuilt

from previous David and Goliath encounter.

David won that tournament (so I was told)

but the tale ends badly for him

'cause he died by the side of the road

and Goliath after some serious reworking

of cheap shiny made in China armor

lived on to posture another day.

 

I know the tale of the Valley of Elah*

(though I wasn't the driver when that happened)

I slowed right down anticipating

an attack whether by sling, hoof or horn.


Two brown deer, as normal as can be, casually crossed

that wet country road and went on their way

through a smelly rain-soaked field of rotting cabbage:

that's that, I thought

when a strange-looking creature

bounced in front of my vehicle

wagging oversized ears and snorting:

it was indeed a piebald deer.

It looked strange, most unacceptable.

 

That's the way it is, isn't it, with perception:

what is familiar we easily accept

but at the unfamiliar, the mind balks

making acceptance difficult in all things

for we are by nature suspicious and superstitious.

 

So I checked and yes, they do exist,

not just as some figment, the piebalds,

deer and / or otherwise designed

by whomever or whatever, some designate

as Creator.  It has a sense of humor,

I'll grant it that.


 *ref: Valley of Elah – First Samuel, Chap. 17 (the Bible)


A Place of Secrets


I awoke in a dark place

where all the secrets are kept.

They made me sweep the floors

and keep the shelves tidy.


They felt safe to have me there

because I couldn't read

and my ears had been made deaf

though my eyes not blinded.


I knew of no other place

so I never complained:

was the work tiresome, boring?

I could not formulate the question.


One day changed all of that:

a quiet stranger came in,

I don't know how he got in,

but he looked and smiled at me.


I had never seen such a smile --

he seduced me with that look --

I followed him around:

he took a book and showed me letters.


See how they follow each other?

he said, leafing through the book,

and how they speak to you

when you follow with your finger?


How quickly the letters came alive

as I followed after them laughing --

"Shhhh..." he cautioned,

finger to his lips and smiling still.


"Do not awaken the watchers

or let them know you understand

or they will do you harm

and I cannot protect you."


How right he was to warn me

but so excited, I failed to heed:

they heard me, the ones in the dark,

they came and took my eyes away.


Now I'm just another dark secret

locked up within their black collection;

just a thought that saw the light

if but for one tiny moment.


I can no longer tidy the shelves,

so I just sweep the floors slowly:

I must be old now, I think

but I still remember the stranger.


I remember his smile

and my fingers tracing meanings

upon the pages of secrets

in the dungeon of the Time Lords


I remember the first line I read:

'Tis in remembering that we live.

and as long as I remember

I know I am alive. I know.

A solution? Sure


Don't just talk about the problems;

don't tell us about energy shortages:

show us a solution instead.

So people say to me.


Very well, a solution I will give

but who will listen

who can't even see?

For wherever I go, I walk -

I don't use a car or even a bike -

and everyone takes it for granted

I do this

because I can't do better.


But I'm not the one

complaining about the cost of gas;

I'm not the one

complaining about stolen bikes:

I'm the one who's there

when you need someone to talk to;

I'm the one with a “poem”

to share with you if you wish;


I'm not chasing any tick tock

around the clock;

I'm not the one who worries

about the weather come Sunday,

and why should I care

if stock market price fixing

puts another five thousand dollars

on next year's car lot denizen?

I won't be the one

yelling at the salesman.


A solution to pollution

need not be complex or stressful:

common sense

though much overlooked these days

can still be of some use

if this world is to survive

man's incredible success.


(Sarcasm is the language of the Devil)

Why?


Life can be taken for granted: tick tock

around the clock we go...

Life can be questioned: why? asks the child:

Who is the wisest, the child who questions all

or the adult, worn down by cares and dissipation

who can no longer even ask, for he'd not hear

the answer?


Unless ye become as a little child

ye shall in no wise enter the kingdom

said a once upon a time master of rhetoric...

and I ask, what does it mean to become as a child?


I cannot remember many of my childhood thoughts

but I do remember the world was much different then,

inhabited by fantastic creatures and sounds

which no science had yet dissected or attempted to explain

for I could not have read the dissertations.


Why?

Why do birds not fly backwards when facing the wind?

Why does water rain down, but evaporate upwards?

Why do clouds change shape?

And why do humans fear and hate each other

when love is so much simpler and easier?


You see, some “Why's” appear silly in themselves,

but asked often enough, one why leads to another

and one why will make you think of something new:

and in one “Why” your life, your world, is changed -

forever!


Spiritual Awakening


A fish jumps out of the water

and sees a new environment,

with trees, clouds, a deep blue sky

forever changing,

each leap, each 'now'

projecting a changing landscape

to its expanded awareness.


I am so much like that fish,

as I "leap" into other realities;

as I notice the changes in my mind

from who I was (thinking I was)

to who I am (or think I am!)


My perception of life is redefined

as I look deeper into possibilities:

past lives, future lives

yes, even the present is changing!


Some would call this

a spiritual awakening

but really, the more I interact here,

the more I'm tempted

to just call it a whole lot of fun.

Spirit


This poem is called "Spirit"

Why?

Well, because it cannot be seen,

and that's the basic reason, "why."


Look down below, look down:

twenty one absolutely exquisite lines

of the greatest wisdom ever put down

upon nothing B to be read by no one.

Isn't this simply amazing?


Twenty one lines, and not a one

will anybody ever see and read,

and that's a miracle, if you ask me!


It may seem silly, this unwritten stuff,

but I assure you

there is great rejoicing in heaven

for one human has finally written

a truly spiritual poem!


And now, friends, only in spirit

can anyone ever know

the life impressions expressed below.


An Open Mind


What does it mean

to have an open mind?

No it doesn't mean

as some wag put it

that your brains

most certainly will fall out.


To have an open mind -

the idea brings this to mind:

believe all things -

believe in nothing.


I'll illustrate the open mind:

a friend tells me she saw

three pink elephants

fly over her house at midnight.


Closed mind: that's stupid,

you expect me to believe that?


Open mind: that's wonderful,

must have been quite a thing to see!


Result: closed mind loses a friend

and creates rejection and confusion.

Closed mind remains static

full of undisturbed cobwebs.


Open mind binds the friendship

in simple acceptance

of another's vision -

but more: it allows the open mind

to consider new ideas

to enter into the realm of

blessed possibility.


Only the open mind can say

"All things are possible."

thus only the open mind

can ever be free.

Love's Blues


I've found a little place

around the corner from yours.

I left: no point, I thought

in saying goodbye:

I wouldn't have meant it.

I packed only the

moments that sparkled

too precious to leave behind...


I remember now

how beautiful, how perfect

how the world seemed just right;

how we never felt the cold

when we were together...

or was it love, the overcoat

that kept us warm

on those lengthening Autumn nights?


If I dared to look outside

now-- don't worry, I won't

and it's safe for you to walk by--

would it finally be spring,

or would those endless winter blues

still be lingering around the corner?

“Know” More Money!


Money's declining in value,

soon may not even exist;

financial institutions are definitely

on their way to the grave--

(I salute them: a well-deserved rest!)

bank robbers will taste unemployment,

with or without a union card,

and so their counterparts,

break-in artists and CEO's,

who sell their ill-gotten wares

for pieces of coloured pulp.


Politicians will be struck dumb:

unfunded lies seldom gain

the status of truth...


Just imagine:

old ladies once again safe

to walk down lonely sidewalks;

clean running transportation

when profit in oil and gas

vanishes in the last whiff of smog;

green grass and window panes

reflecting a pristine sun;

national debts cancelled,

gone by the sweep of a magic wand;

trees standing tall in the wind

spared from the printing press

as media deception fades out;

abandoned financial towers:

pent-housing for the poor,

rent free, guilt free, fear free.


Imagine a world without money:

why should it frighten?


I Awoke


I awoke to the serenity of time,

as the sun rose over faraway hills,

I had decided to climb.


Filled with awe at the blossoming

of this new day, I thought:

Where does wisdom come from?


Then I saw a great eagle circling

as a reflection in the deep blue:

it seemed to speak to me then...


“Wisdom is not written in books;

it is not found at the feet of a great one;

it's what one has become

through the lessons life teaches

one can now see and share.


For wisdom can not be imparted

with mere words, for words

are but the photograph, an image.

Wisdom must be demonstrated

and only thus can others decide

if what they see

may be beneficial to their life's passion.”

It was a fair walk to those hills

so I started my day's hike then

and as I walked

amongst a silent wilderness,

filling my senses with endless impressions

I realized, perhaps for the first time

that wisdom's source comes from within;

from my own understanding;

my own acceptance of life's flow;

from free will that is truly free.

I Remember


I remember a face

smiling at me

under a dazzling

cascade of ebony;

moonlit eyes

sparkling with love

and mischief:

an angel's voice

sweet and soft

beckoning me, laughing

to paradise.

Free Energy


Some thoughts on "free energy":

What would happen to planet Earth

if Earthians discovered the concept of

"free energy"?


Much is being said on the topic

as non-renewable resources dwindle

and pollution increases.

We are entering the age

of "permanent resource wars"

for control of remaining resources.


What would our "leaders" do

with free energy?

Would they give it freely

to every human on the planet?

Would they facilitate the sharing

of such a priceless resource?


Or would the opposite happen:

would there be increased corruption,

more greed and destruction

as the need to conserve and care

seems no longer valid?


In a world whose modus operandi

is simply raw greed

how could "free energy" be a boon?

It would be the ultimate disaster

as happened with fossil fuels

when it was believed the supply

would be endless.


In the days when oil flowed from the ground

to be had for the taking -

who worried about environmental pollution?


Only mad prophets and idiots.


The System knew better

and the people as always

knew whom to trust.


The Unfolding


Do not kill me

for I am not made

of such substance you dream of...

Do not kill me

for my life does not reside

where you think it does...

Do not kill me

for if you believe you had

I would only be

another burden,

another load,

another you!

Freed for a moment,

my spirit would slip

inside your mind:

it would then have

to serve us both.

Think about the conflicts

resulting of such a union:

wouldn't it be better to wait

for the unfolding of time?

Hold Back The Tears


It is difficult to accept

the fact of dying from an incurable disease;

being racked by pain,

facing total loss.


Yet, hold back the tears for a moment,

and think.

Try to realize that the sadness you feel

is but a human state of mind!

In the spiritual realm,

these things are always

resolved to a greater understanding.

G a i a


Gently you come by day or night

to fill the best of dreams;

lovely as rain on the river,

warm as a Summer day:

good, pure, perfect,

you lift my soul to heaven,

you make me want to live, to love,

to understand and share.


Your feet touching the earth

bring forth new life as you step;

small and light, you dance

like a week-old fawn

over swaying marsh grass.

You laugh like a mountain stream;

your passage is the will o' the wisp

over the sands and the waters:

like the killdeer, the loon

in the mystery of a moonlit night

you sing and call me to follow.


Awake or asleep, in or out of dreams,

I follow: a moth, a butterfly,

running, dancing, laughing with you;

I learn of life in paradise

of love, of joy, of fullness untold.

When I lie breathless at your feet

and you smile at me: I learn to die

and in my death, perfected in you

I find new life, again!


O, Love, so long hidden,

mother, daughter, lover,

child of the living womb?-

prisoner of rusty superstition,

the very memory of your tender love

chained in dank dungeons

of religious ignorance and fear.


O, Lady of sweetness and joy,

Giver of life, of truth,

how long must you remain

enslaved to these dark, dying times,

your own world denied your love?

How long must man oppress you

and kill your children,

their innocent, sacrificial blood

dripping from your bruised feet?


From you, Lady, I learned of life

its intricacies and mysteries;

from you I learned to love

to gently touch, healing and giving,

never to take, for all I need

you provide with a smile

a soft, beckoning gesture

from outstretched, open hands

full of springing love, full

of ageless mystery and eternal hope!

Time And Consequences

  

No matter which rule I try to bend

you are Time and no one's friend

and does that make you my enemy?

For if it does, and you go my way

step by step on this endless journey

woe is me, most certainly

for I must love you, that I must

but how in you can I put my trust?

 

Long ago, 'tis said, the Master taught

if you would live meaningfully,

then learn to love your enemy.

I see you smiling at my confusion

I quite understand your derision

for omnipresent you believe you are

and even were I to find my star

and there think from you to hide

'twould not be so, you would abide

 

Correct me on this, if I'm wrong

if for a greater freedom I long

that time becomes for me the 'All'

that whatever I find, small or tall

I accept the joy, I accept the sorrow

though it be in happiness or in woe

I drop the very last of pretenses

taking life with her consequences.


What is truth?


Are “facts” truth?

Are “laws” based on truth?

Can truth be measured?

Can it be counted?


Truth

is stranger than fact.

It lives beyond laws

never to be found

in sweeping promises

or grandiose pronouncements.


Truth

is a light in dark places;

a mantle of experience;

a compendium of understanding;

the radiance of compassion.


Truth

is the lie that saves

the innocent life

yet remains untarnished

in the exchange.


Truth

is never found

among the hypocrites

but can walk as comfortably

with kings as with paupers.


Truth:

how few know

thy beautiful face!





There's Talk of Flooding (again!)

 

Every so often

Old timers and young whiners

start up the talk of flood

'cause there's no political scandal,

no summer Olympics

or other brain-dead cause to rally 'round.

 

Out here in the valley

we live below the great mountains

and some years bring less snow

(and the talk's about the drought)

and some years bring more snow

and the talk's all about the flood.

(Ain't never seen one or the other

but that's the way of it down here.)

 

There's those that watch

that there snow pilin' up higher and higher

and so sure they are there's gonna be

the mother of all great floods.

 

It's always exciting for humans

to have some certain disaster

to talk about and worry about

But what better than

a certain flood deep and wide

and bodies floating in the wreckage?

 

But I'll let you in on a secret:

those mountains, they're the cake

and that snow, that's the icing.

 

And all that water that flows down

when the morning comes clear and bright?

tis but the tears of the newly weds

awakening to the terrible mistake

they talked themselves into

realizing in the morning

they don't even love each other --

Yeah, maybe it was great sex, but...

The party's over, family and friends

have hit the open road and gone;

the gifts have all been opened;

the white dress is in the drawer

and it's time to go back

working for the man.

What’s In A Name?


Ah! But are we not the ancient ones--

shape shifters, form shapers, alchemists, dreamers?

Do we not create only to un-create and re-create,

trapping energy in form only to set it free once more?


“I” was born in a human form, trapped--

like a slave with no will and no choice

a name of sorts infused into my child’s mind.


As time would have it, I broke free of some bondage

to human expectations, traditions and common ego,

but for the name I carry weighing me down

with other people’s chains anchored in their past:


Does a name given at birth really define my beingness?

Does it not rather spell a group’s hopes and dreams?

Having re-discovered my ancient powers,

my own true roots anchored deep within the flowing magma;

within the bloodstream of my own sister Earth,

tell me: Do I not have a perfect, appropriate ‘right’

to choose that word, or words, called a name,

which I, only I, can recognize as being ‘me’?


Do I not have the complete right

to present my own identity to the world?

Or, for that matter, my many identities?

In the drama of life, am I not permitted

to play more than one part, from birth to death?


If you think not--whatever your reasons,

then tell me who “I AM”!

Dare to define what I have become

not in this life alone, but including all,

absolutely all!

my experiences as the cosmic “me.”

Alternate Reality


A man walks through a thick wood

at the end of a long day.

Lost in sudden darkness

he sees a door between two tree trunks

a string of light escaping under the closed door.


He opens the door and steps inside:

he sees an empty room filled with light

and he thinks he's alone in it, and wonders

but then he realizes his eyes have tricked him

for they could not perceive what he could not see.

For he's in an alternate reality, an unfamiliar place,

his senses confused by the unshape of things in it.


He sees a being sitting on a bench by the far wall,

similar in form to himself but with long white hair

and wearing a white robe with the hood thrown back.

The being beckons him forth.

Moving forward, he finds it more than strange

he no longer needs his legs, or needs to walk

for he covers the distance in the room

at the simple prompting of his thoughts.


Coming to the other side of the room

he becomes aware of great wall there.

The being points to the wall -

a door appears in it and he says,

Do not think you've come to the end

for life's quest is never over -

"I have yet to cross that threshold

to encounter my new reality."


Now think about infinity: what could that be like?

Like nothing one's ever imagined.

For if one fears, no strange room will be entered,

no unexpected door will manifest in a far wall

and existence will repeat itself, more or less,

rightly or wrongly, with ease or difficulty.

There will be a sense of familiarity to it, and of despair.


But if one learns courage, and one is daring,

alternate realities will make themselves available;

alternate paths will manifest in alternate measures.

How easy it is to think that life must go on

as the rulers and teachers have directed and taught;

how difficult it is to dare be your own teacher,

even more, sacrilegiously, your own creator.

To The End Of The Universe


There is a bus

going to the end of the Universe,

I hear they're holding a conference there

on some small planet.


The agenda is about violence,

how to stop the killings, the wars

and the corruption in high places

that ignites and condones

violence in all its forms.


I hear they are seeking representatives

from all the worlds

still mired in violence;

first hand input

from perpetrator and victim -

of course, Earth is invited.


They wish to make it known

that the best tools against violence

are (as is so often forgotten)

compassion and cooperation.


I'm heading for the bus stop

this morning;

I figure I could be a delegate.

Will I be waiting alone?







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