Poetry starting February 12, 2005
SANNA TORPET, SWEDEN
Regarding the eras of my life:
1. Childhood
2. Darkness
3. Religion
4. Art
5. Nakedness
6. Creative Faith and Despair
7. Freedom and Compassion
AÉ
All existence is streaming
out of God
BÉ
BEAUTIFUL WITH LOVE
BEING TRUE
BREATHING GODÕS NAME
DÉ
DEEP PEACE
DRUNK WITH LIGHT
FÉ
FROM A NOTE TO SANDRA IN INDIA
GÉ
GOD LOVES TO LOVE YOU
IÉ
I felt the divine child in me
this morning
IN THE SEA OF LOVE
INTO THE MIRROR
It is utterly good
I WANT TO STOP THIS MADNESS
LÉ
LIGHT ARISES AS A SWEET PLEASURE
LITTLE TEACHER
LOVE POURS
MÉ
NÉ
NOW IS THE TIME FOR SCRIBING YOUR STORY
SÉ
SAVE ME FROM ILLUSIONS
SLIM INNOCENCE
TÉ
The almond branch trembles
and blooms
THE NIPPLE
THE OPENING
THE PURE DROP
THERE IS A TREMBLING OF THE HEART
THE SIXTH ERA
THE SPIRIT AND THE WORD
WÉ
WHAT MYSTERY?
WITH LOVESÕ INTENT
YÉ
YOU BECOMING
32 POEMS
last poem:
THERE IS A TREMBLING OF THE HEART
The poetryÉ
THE SIXTH ERA
A new chapter begins
marked by GodÕs finger
across the innocent page,
written with lifeÕs language
from the day and the dark
of religion and the holy.
As ripples on a still pool
expand in silver light
so Love expands to embrace all:
for Love is the water
and the stone in the water
and the expanding circle of waves.
Little teacher of innocent joy,
naturally shining
with eyes luminous as two pearls
and a smile as easy as wind,
your thoughts are as simple as milk,
as clear as limpid water in a glass.
You drink from the secret pink fountain:
your every action reveals
effortless love.Ó
IN THE SEA OF LOVE
We exist in the sea of Love.
Thoughts arise and fall as waves
in an ocean of innocence.
I see the white sun
Grandpa Oats
Here I am in a garden.
I have no idea what makes it grow
or my fingers move.
I only know that sunshine in my brain and bones
is like God loving me.
The wind glides as a naked hand over my body
while the sea goes on calling her sweet songs
to wandering birds:
SheÕs like a wild fisherwoman with foam-white hair
saying, come catch my wares,
or a quizzical old dancer in a blue dress
wooing me to be a silent witness with her of the
stars.
Meanwhile, I work like a child works,
aware of little but the play
of my hands with earth.
Seeds fall from my fingers
to do their little duties.
I spill my tin watering cup
and magic happens.
Sometimes a thought comes
that holds the secret of what it is made.
Then my blood roars loud in my veins.
This also passes, settling like a wave
back into this sea of peace
somehow, I am.
THE PURE DROP
The pure drop:
that famous mystery,
so simple it confounds the seeking mind.
Jesus called it many names:
the hidden treasure, the lost coin,
the precious pearl.
That secret place where there is no need,
no suffering, no trouble:
the dove spot of white peace;
the perfect, playful happiness of a little Buddha.
We all carry it within
as it carries us in Holy Presence:
embracing our suffering,
our human dreams of separation,
our slow, painful parting from those we love,
while holding, as a white stone,
the unwavering vision of our return home.
How can there be anxious care
in perfect trust:
this quality beyond words,
this Yes beyond yes?
What is there to ask for
except to drink the cup
as freely as it is poured,
and to taste on the tip of our tongues
the sweet release,
the trembling end of trembling,
the pure, round, liquid
drop of Light
that Light drinks?
FROM A NOTE TO SANDRA IN INDIA
I think of Sandra in her silence,
in the profound space that birds keep,
in the place where flowers quiver
in ecstasy at the slightest stir of a breeze.
Light rests easy in open spaces
that only silence can reach.
WHAT MYSTERY?
The child is stalked amidst bamboo
shadowsÑ
Zen in Zebra-light.
What hand parts towering tendrils,
bars and blades,
to reveal the quiet tiger' s
radiant eyes?
There is a pure nipple
in the center of your heart
flowing with the milk of Life.
Open up your heart
and take that tender nipple into your lips,
into your open mouth of innocent awareness.
Suck and drink; it is pure being.
From the clouds of its cream
comes stars and distant galaxiesÑ
mountains, seas, birds and trees.
From that nipple flows
white rivers of Love
into the mystery of your luminous pool
gazed at by innocent eyes.
BEING TRUE
I want to live in such a way
that my words and actions
resonate in the wombs
of women
who hold deep earth
in the dark of their eyes:
women with hearts
that shimmer open with grace
of that wild patience
that penetrates earth
with harmonies of Light
and sounds of heaven.
INTO THE MIRROR
Into the mirror the bright river streamsÑ
everything is utterly just as it seems.
Cast off your blankets,
and lay in the sun,
stop all this madnessÑ
where will you run?
The river is flowing with bird song and wind
as the
warm earth tips
into winterÕs bright end.
Just a puff of a breeze and the shadows depart,
from the brightness and beauty
of an innocent heart.
Those drunk with light are called
mad by the blind.
Those giddy with Love are called
crazy by cynics.
Some child thinks the world was
made by Love.
Everyone in the circus laughs,
except the clown.
Whoever makes the glory his own
becomes the glory.
Whoever sings the glory in their
bodily cells opens hearts.
WITH LOVESÕ INTENT
When imagination flows
with LoveÕs intent
something eternal shines
within the lantern of your ribs:
Oil flows from your fingers;
ritual becomes reality.
You put your hands gently
on someoneÕs head,
their heart opens
and God laughs.
BREATHING GODÕS NAME
The deep, deep,
tender pink sweetness of God,
in the center of your chest,
in the essence of your heart.
In and out, in and out, the breath flows
breathing the name of God:
AlÉ in,
laÉout,
haÉin,
AlÉout,
laÉin,
haÉoutÉ
on and on,
sighing the name,
relaxing into the name,
sinking deeper into the sweetness,
opening your most vulnerable heart,
drinking in the Love.
I WANT TO STOP THIS MADNESS
I want to stop this madness
of striving to understand
what can only be known
by being unknown
and celebrated
NOW IS THE TIME FOR SCRIBING YOUR STORY
You listen to stories of how it happened to others.
What is the story of how God opened you?
Now is the time for writing your story:
with the first chapter body, and the second the
Spirit,
and the third one your soul with the old and the new.
Then comes the song of Love in the leaves,
and water-songs, healing, and Life coming true.
Then comes the finish, with the pilgrim departing
Ñ but who really knows when your story is through?
The child sits before
the frowning powers
with a crown on her head,
in white, in simplicity of being,
and observes it all
with unwavering peace.
None can defile her,
her wisdom is innocent,
her innocence is wise.
It is utterly good
It is utterly good:
fresh spring waters gurgling through;
clear wave after clear wave over white sands;
the song of a lark cascading down through a spring
sky;
the blue sky showering through your opened eyes.
I felt the divine child in me
this morning
I felt the divine child in me this morning,
throwing away the illusion of ego.
There are no words to describe
such bubbling, pure, fresh, free being.
May 14, 2005 Sanna Torpet
Watch the flowers in sunlight to learn surrender.
Listen to the songs of birds to learn joy.
Watch them fly amongst the branches of a tree
to learn freedom.
Oct 1st 2005
Sifnos
This was the Greece that I once knew
a long, long time ago,
when people lived about the pace
that a glacier melts in snow.
Gone are the old ones who sat in the sun,
with kind and wrinkled faces,
their homes are renovated now
for sleepers from other places.
And the little churches that housed the monks
who held the souls of the people,
are empty now, but the bells still chime,
knocked by machines in the steeples.
Where are the shepherds, where the goats,
where the donkeys in the lanes?
The merchants have more money now
to buy pills to dull the pain
of living without a soul
in a land that once was holy.
DEEP PEACE
Deep peace,
stillnessÉ
eating the name of God.
AlÉ
LaÉ
HaÉ
Deeper into this nothingness
brimming with Light.
THE OPENING
The Great Love, flowing smoothly,
opens the heart.
Words from sweet lips
convey the nature of Heaven.
Gently the Spirit soaks through.
The veils soften and grow thin.
The opening comes
from the Holy side.
The almond branch trembles and
blooms
The temple of God is the body,
perfectly designed to express the Holy.
Every sense, purified to its essence
conveys its inmost nature:
clean Spirit being in clean flesh;
clean energy moving gently.
Every instinct is for opening
and the delight that brings happiness
and peace.
The ecstasy arises in both holy places
at once. God is in His temple.
Everything cries its sweet cries.
Clothes fall from the soul.
It awakens in nakedness.
The almond branch trembles
and blooms.
LIGHT ARISES AS A SWEET PLEASURE
Be open, be awake,
and naked and clean and free,
for the Spirit of the Pure One
is moving and the Light arises
as a sweet pleasure
through the central hole:
the tender, Holy nothing in the midst
of the heart.
THE SPIRIT AND THE WORD
The fountain of innocence,
the fresh wind that does not move,
the tender breath,
the nakedness of God.
Words that fall from silent combustions
ring within the secret soul of Life:
that matrix where dreams unite with fearless action
in spite of fear.
SAVE ME FROM ILLUSIONS
When God and the soul work together
something good is about to happen:
the soul spins around so that front is back
right here amongst the crickets
and the sidewalk cracks.
All existence is streaming
out of God
The branch quivers, the snowflake falls,
all existence is streaming out of God.
The deer gives birth and licks the fawn,
all existence is streaming out of God.
In China two lips quiver on a teacup,
all existence is streaming out of God.
In India a child with a dirty face stares,
all existence is streaming out of God.
Through the nose the spirit pours,
all existence is streaming out of God.
Through the heart the dream leaps out,
all existence is streaming out of God.
Who can say old patterns canÕt break?
All existence is streaming out of God.
Who knows what miracles a day can bring?
All existence is streaming out of God.
The wind wants to know what it is to live in a box.
DonÕt bother it. It is silent for its own reasons.
As trees embrace sunshine and storm
embrace all of your life.
This great Yes makes the wind of you happy.
But it will not allow you to hear its laugh.
It will not allow you
to spoil deathÕs surprise.
LOVE POURS
Love pours through this miraculous instant.
Wake up and drink a singing, clear beauty.
YOU BECOMING
Why not want what God wants:
to Love you into laughing,
to unmask your secret anger
and drink your pain of grief;
to pour His light like liquor
through your brain and body
until your whole body sings:
this is God our Lover,
and you are you becoming
both beloved and the loving.
GOD LOVES TO LOVE YOU
God loves to Love you
as a composer loves to compose,
as an artist loves to paint,
as a doctor loves to heal.
THERE IS A TREMBLING OF THE HEART
There is a trembling of the heart
that comes in the presence of birth,
or death, or a pure soul,
for then is sensed the ceaseless
origin of all things
and a kind of music of mystery
that has no words,
only an imperceptible
energetic movement.
There is an unbloomed blossom
always opening toward us;
there is milk for our lips
constantly dribbling from a soft spiritual breast Ñ
until we take off our bodies
to sink beyond silence
into the teeming throngs
of a wing-packed sky.