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Falling Up Bruce Lyon

Falling Up

Bruce Lyon

Each individual has a keynote that, if sounded, will destroy him.

Manly Palmer Hall

Bruce Lyon Shamballa School Highden Manor Private Bag 11 081 Palmerston North New Zealand blyon@ihug.co.nz

© Copyright/responsibility 2002 Bruce Lyon May only be distributed according to the dictates of the heart ISBN

Contents Haiku ........................................................... 1 That Which Endures ................................... 2 Laying DownThe Burden ............................ 3 What Hearts Are For ................................... 4 A Drunkard’s Memory ................................. 6 Even The Fish ............................................. 8 The Kingdom .............................................. 9 Enough Already .......................................... 10 One Tree Hill ............................................... 12 Tapestry ...................................................... 14 The Spirit of Fathering ................................ 16 Tribute To GMH ........................................... 18 Joan of Arc .................................................. 19 The Doctor is Coming ................................. 20 For Anna ..................................................... 22 To The Island .............................................. 24 The Master .................................................. 27 Suffer Us ..................................................... 28 Start Undressing ........................................ 30 Agni ............................................................. 31 Upon Return ............................................... 32 Midsummer ................................................. 36 Armistice Day .............................................. 38 A Valentine .................................................. 40 Falling Up .................................................... 42

Mountains keep secrets.

Climbing, our souls remember the spirit treasure

That Which Endures 1

There are times on the inner journey when the winds of samsara blow the veils of maya and curtain the horizon the path ahead shrinks down to three visible steps then one which must be taken nonetheless ...and the next until the soul’s foot will no longer lift to the command of spirit

It was when you said ‘there is no self’ that I noticed how blue the ocean was and how the sunlight was lying on the left side of your face

What remains is the will to stand a persistent drum, anchored in the central chamber of the heart a lion roaring in the blizzard, !"#!$%&"'!() that will not be put out a stubborn stone of waiting

Like a child with a sandcastle I suddenly remembered that I built it FOR the incoming tide.

Start Undressing

2

Like a man who has been carrying a load of bricks all day I had almost forgotten that the pain in my back could be relieved by simply laying them down

What Hearts are For 3

I went to visit that old wound in my heart today like a tongue reaching for a familiar cavity *%+&"#*",%-"#.!#"/#".!-".)!+)-"*0)1 2#",13#"#.!#"#**4"()"5&"36171/3) I had grown accustomed to that wound and besides some good poetry had bled from it over the years And it gave me instant membership in the ‘those who have been wounded club’ which I found far more interesting than the ‘those who have never been wounded and think they are invincible club’ and less bizarre than the ‘wounded but in denial club’

Then I was a little afraid

4

Who will I be without my wound? and suddenly I understood why some people seek the knife like an old friend Then laughter came to be with me deep and full without that fragile edge like the shushing of children in a house where someone is very ill And in that laughter I fell in love again with the lumpy mass of fresh pink etheric scar tissue my heart has become Of course, that is what it is for breaking and healing, bending and kneeling the rhythmic sound of a temple being slowly built for the unknown but expected guest

A Drunkard’s Memory 5

I want to write a poem about the spaces between poems Not those deserts where poetry seems like a frivolous escape from the illusion which has caught me but those times when life /3"/%"368."'**#.!#"#.)",3."/3"-1*$%)-"/%"#.)"*8)!% There is just poetry and no one left over to write it Tonight creation threw all its resources into the sunset one unrepeatable event and I, being part of creation could not resist becoming all of it There was a body standing on the cliff above the lake but no one left to look out of my eyes

I and thou fell to their knees

6

and surrendered to that most demanding of soul reapers ­ Beauty she will brook no rival folding the whole of Cosmos into her gown Now, fallen back into that shell of exile labelled ‘poet’ this is my song in memory of her a torn photo handed round the trenches a few half remembered bars hummed by a drunk a poem

Even The Fish 7

On the beach not quite the same emotion as a whale stranding but enough to get the locals animated exchanging theories with one another as they stoop and throw little silver bullets back into the waves ‘Must be the equinox’ or ‘Damn global warming’

There is that which yet lives in the hearts of men that longs to serve the kingdom

I keep silent fearing the worst as the school of yellow tail turn their wide searching mouths back towards the shallows ‘Stop trying to save us!

No, really! We’re coming in’ Just as I suspected 90)%"#.)",3. have had enough of the Piscean age

All else is fear and exile the lion shrinks on the threshold leaving a domestic cat and the sad scratching of claws at the door of the temple.

The Kingdom

8

A lake, a sword a stone, a throne calling forth, through time the only home a free human soul can breathe in

Enough Already 9

Wounded you attack as if the fury of your advance could somehow staunch the internal bleeding

!"<!1+!%-"*;"'*$)13 on that ancient spot where a heart was once lifted still beating to the sun

As if, this time for once the outcome might change if you could just react faster turn right instead of left Run, Lola, Run :.!#"&*6"'))";1*(" has already caught you vines and grasses grow over that old temple $.)1)"&*61"3!81/,8) was made Those hard stone images have long since toppled into the cool green depths of a forest pool

What remains is to toss

10

Tribute to GMH 11

E Tu, E Tu And who will stand for us now, Old tree as you have stood above the noise and numbness of human acquisition and release?

has fallen into ten thousand hearts Another century and your descendants may yet see us learn to stand for ourselves

Who will draw our feet up, up to the mountain where our eyes can feast on the harbours and our souls leave them putting out to sea on the wild winds of exhilaration that shaped your branches like a lover’s arms reaching out to the east It was when you fell that a city felt the great space left behind in our chests as well as our skyline

The seed of your standing

12

Tapestry 13

Poetry Words, sitting next to each other in expected and sometimes surprising ways like two women waiting for a bus one with a bright purple scarf something in the way their bodies rest together not touching physically and yet in constant caress

in some spirit ear to bring me whispers of these whispers as if someone was softly singing my true name into a shell?

What is it that arrives with words? heart quivers 1)+)!3/%<",%)+&"81!;#)-"!11*$3 between what is said leaving traces of experience & the rich smell of freshly turned soul ‘I have walked into ancient stone circles And felt a whisper Of quietly simple voices’

What tiny bones vibrate

14

The Spirit of Fathering 15

Sometimes I miss my children so much that the ache rises up to my soul arms that cannot reach them become feelings that stream from the heart become thoughts, like ravens that go out, but do not return to the ark !%-"#.)%=",%!++& the dove is launched !%-"$./+)">"3+))7",#;6++& my spirit body crosses the city to sit on the end of their beds mixing with the gentle breeze that cools a fevered brow strengthening the inner light in a dark dreaming pouring some kind of rich sustenance into the delicate webs that enfold them

brooding over them

16

a conduit for one night of the peace which passeth understanding A father’s peace one small branch of which is carried back to me at sunrise Waking, I do not know what has eased the ache but looking out I notice there are fresh leaves on the tree and look #.)",13#"-!;;*-/+"/3"*7)%?

Joan Of Arc 17

Glory be to God for surprising things ships that lie rusting in desert lands far from the sea for sight that is blind all love that seems unkind and the strange compassion in the heart of an enemy for symphonies of silent sound radiant angels living underground all things subtle bold, sudden slow, '!(/%<"8*+She farthers­forth whose change has parsed beauty praise Him

One Tree Hill

18

:.)%">"3))"#.*3)"'!()3 around you !",)18)")@6+#!#/*%"1/3)3"67 not a cheer but something more radical upon which nothing less than everything depends An inarticulate celebration of all that is indestructible in the human spirit It is when I think of the last night you spent in prison having denied that spirit to save youthful 61<)%#"')3. that my heart rushes to your side let me take some weight that unbearable burden which crushes the human soul just before it discovers that its destiny lies in ,1) The Doctor is Coming 19

Ah muse I am an empty vessel again #.)"$!#)1"&*6",++)-"()"$/#.".!3 seeped out through the cracks in my self esteem and here I am pleading for more

offering dry crusts to others while the fresh warm bread of you rises uneaten inside me

a little moisture something to restore Self to self

A&"3)+,3.%)33"+/)3" like a stubborn stone upon the path and yet that same stone in your hands resembles a wonderful tool for shaping soul

To be aware of my longing for you begins the healing Pretending to be full has opened great wounds in my side I want so much to be a true human being not this posturing and prevaricating

:.)%">".*+-"(&",%<)13"*0)1"(&")&)3" like this to stop your light from reaching me I am like a doctor sitting in his own waiting room wondering when the doctor will arrive.

Let my wound be an open mouth that lets your voice into the world

but I fall silent so quickly

20

For Anna 21

Last night was a hard rain that woke me three times three journeys not to her cold body curled in the tent surrounded by the white forest guardians but spirit journeys a vigil in the astral world watching her fail !%-",<.# and free herself ,13#"!"8!0) and brokenness a retreat into darkness The light would have gone out there but I knew as she did not that the dragon would come !%-"#.!#"3.)"$*6+-",<.# as she was born to do

second, at the height of the battle

22

I was called again to watch that moment when she saw herself in those dark pupils and knew beyond doubt that it was her mouth from which #.)"'!()3"7*61)-";*1#."

At the third call she was sitting alone on a mountain and in the snow at her feet *%)"5+6)"'*$)1" was beginning to open This morning the rain was a soft silver grace stealing into the forest the leaves a pungent brown clinging to my gumboots as I carried a plate of muesli and one orange to leave !#"#.)"#)%#"'!7 There was movement inside one eye as I turned away and yes a hint of blue To The Island 23

B*1"#$)%#&C,0)"&)!13 (including the three in exile) you have been safe anchorage for this adventure seeking soul Many times I have limped in after storms sails ripped in emotional squalls fat fragments of failure clinging like squads of barnacles to my ego’s bum ‘to harbour, to harbour!’

Today, I am as surprised as ever by my response to the sight of you heart rushing to the rail reaching out towards an old friend and some deep tension in my body reveals itself in release !3"/;",1(="<)%#+)",%<)13".!found the exact spot ‘yes, there, there oh right there!’

The deva on the old pine

24

at the corner of the beach greets me with a beam She remembers that week ten years ago when I lugged rocks to build a sea wall to keep her roots from the waves The pohutukawa I planted at her base needs a couple more years before it is ready to hold the ground together when the old girl topples ,%!++&"/%#*"#.)"3)!

Once I let a part of me fall down here to rest and heal waiting year after year calling to me in dreams like a lover pleading the dolphins to bring her sailor on the tide

Exile taught me never to bury 25

soul treasure in any one place So now, when I leave, I leave whole as if for the last time and when I return, I discover all over again the deep love that lives in me for this Is­land

The Mast­er

26

Christ, you are the mast that holds this soul taut, thrumming in the great Shamballic wind that sweeps us all toward synthesis I will lash myself to you through the astral storms hearing the creak of solar timbers beneath the siren song feeling your great spar at my back

At night the deep roll of centuries lifts us !%-"#.)"5+6)"$./#)",1)" of Sirius calls.

Sailing the indigo seas *;"#.)",)1&"$*1+-3 you hold me still you hold me still....

Suffer Us 27

This planet does not like the word ‘No’ The great Kumara stands $/#."!"'!(/%<"3$*10/+/,)-";*1"./3"3!81/,8) while the emotional body of humanity cries for a kinder God who does not require us to learn by example one who will understand that we are, after all (and before nothing) ‘only human’ and therefore cannot be expected to mount the cross ourselves surely there is an easier way ‘Oh father send us another son to nail up

Let him be our salvation

28

and absolve us from effort forever and ever amen’ I say ‘Send us the strength to send our own sins /%#*"#.)",1)?

Withhold oh gracious Lord your deep compassion.

Suffer to let us suffer a little longer that we may learn and earn our own release to understand yes, underSTAND #.)"3!81/,8) that supports your sapphire throne.’

Agni 29

This poetry is not about the words they are just the clothes I tear off in the rush towards my lover

D*61"#!$%&",1) lifts me from half heartedness /%#*"#.)"3*6+"3)!1/%<"'!()3 of a fearless simplicity

Don’t pick up these old rags and try to wear them.

Take them as a sign that He is coming and start undressing too

E/##/%<"/%"&*61",)18)"8*1) I have only to wait for the dross of my forgetfulness to pour forth like molten gold ...a spirit treasure waiting to be spent on beauty

Laying Down The Burden

30

Upon Return 31

My journal from Tibet is gone Left on an airplane and once again the message that Darjeeling tried to teach me comes back: Take nothing, Try to capture nothing, Be present in this moment That will be your journal That will be what you write on the ethers with your life.

Be a pen, write with the juice of the soul as ink onto the hearts and minds of those around you And on the consciousness of trees And the white heads of mountains.

Give without the staccato grasping of censoring of writer or reader.

Let go Bruce – let go of Bruce.

Be a blank page too

32

Let the sky write on you with its unrepeatable blue life Let the hope in the eyes of those children etch itself on yours, Allow the prayers of those monks like warm needles to tattoo the sound of impermanence on your heart.

Stop telling stories and let the one great story write with your life.

Drop the tattered clothes, the old worn out concepts and feelings that you fold so tight to keep out the death wind.

F)#"#.)",1)"8+*#.)"&*6" and the living word make of your life something good for the world to eat.

The trip kept feeding me the same message: ‘Go slow; go deep.

Stop the proliferation, 33

the acquisition.

Just get one thing One simple thing Like taking this next sip of water This sip is the most important sip of your life But it is not special Once you have taken it you must let it go The next sip is now the most important thing you have to do.

Don’t run Everything you need is right here Including the great fear of annihilation that the soul feels in its own way as deeply as the body.

that great fear in one chamber of the heart Such bravery in each moment To embrace death and uncertainty And still breathe 2%-"3#/++",%-"+*0)"(*0/%<"#.1*6<." and still noticing the beauty of the morning and still letting the waves *;"5+)33/%<"5)"!%-"'*$" without reason without meaning.

Uncreatable, inextinguishable Nothing more or less than the one deep Life breathing and Self remembering.’

That mountain, Kailas is not lost.

It teaches us to hold

34

Midsummer 35

This night began in winter on a mountain in Tibet and I know I will never understand because understanding requires two things one to stand under the other and there were no things there and then only a sudden leap into the furnace where all things are generated

in praise of the One It is midsummer night at Highden and my dream is of Kailas and the deep memory that rises in wood when it is brought at last #*"#.)",1)

And now what is left of that leaping has come to dwell here among the lingering prayers of monks and the silent, sensual shout of roses today, a strong wind scattered petals through the garden...

What is this great breath #.!#"3#1/73"#.)"'*$)1"*;"#.)"3*6+" to white spirit bones?

eight shafts of jewel­song

36

Armistice Day 37

Spirit of Peace help us to learn that you are a destiny and not a destination Jerusalem is not a city but the emanation and resting place of a planet yet to recognise you /%"#.)",)1&"8*1) of all things

guide the bullets and the bombs and the packages of aid each death every act of bravery and despair into the vortex of that greater victory

breathe upon the bright ember of divinity that lies yes, even at the core of war

might accompany every departing soul whether cause or casualty

and another ignite #.)",%!+"'!()3 of courage and assent in the hearts of those left to hold the taut emptiness for us all a spiritual silence that only your voice 8!%",++

Your power lies in this: we do not reach or contain you with our concepts or *61"8*%'/8#3 thankfully it is beyond us to create Peace only those conditions that allow us to confess you have been there all along

that a spark of you

38

39

A Valentine I have only ever had one lover and it was you For a while I thought you lived in a pair of blue eyes until you showed up in some brown ones too $/#."')843"*;"<*+and then I knew for certain that you had set up permanent residence in the curves and lines the very breath of my sleeping children Africa taught me that like Santa you bring your presence to all children naughty, nice and more to the roar of hungry lions the sudden drop of the falcon !%-"#.)",13#"+/()"<1))%"861+

of the ponga frond

40

I have tasted you in a mango 3))%"&*6"/%"#.)",%)".!/13 on the forearm of a lover heard your voice in 163.".*61"#1!;,8 and the silence of that mountain Veil by veil revealing the source and destiny of all that loves reminding us of #.)"*%)",-)+/#& that may never fail to be true to you in each part is to be true to your love in all.

41

Falling Up I am like a stone falling up /%#*"!"7**+"*;",1) I cannot resist the gravity of your call Nor would I ,<.# that furnace of annihilation had I strength enough to separate my will from Thine, Shamballa

42

White Stone Publishing Aotearoa - New Zealand