In important moments
we realize
we have gone forward
without counting the cost —
something has overridden
all our cautious tallying
In these moments we find
a profound momentum
as the continuing imperative
takes over
everything we normally judge by
Afterwards we may consider
it never makes sense to count the cost
for there is no price
that can be put on living.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 5, 2017
This is the physics of innocence,
the way no harm can attach
to one whose only impulse
is the call of life
Life calls to life
and life answers
in that quickened attention
that runs circles around the moments
even as the gaze holds steady,
connection a constant discovery,
oneness a revelation
The physics of innocence
is how we all fit
into the same song —
we find the harmony
and are glad.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 4, 2017
You could see how
the Spirit might take
any one of them,
how they would be filled out,
would take shape
from the rushing power
that formed them from within
You might notice
how they really never
were anything else, how they are
maybe not so much Spirit-filled
as Spirit comprised,
maybe the most joyful
the less they hold onto
the thought of being the envelope,
the more they embrace Spirit
as their very essence.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 3, 2017
There’s no pressure on you,
just the skin-light touch of Life
as it invites you to dance,
the lean and press and pull and spin,
the upward push of air under your wings
No pressure
just the clasp of Love’s embrace,
supernally content with who you are right now
There is no need for pressure —
you leap forward
on the lift of your imperative,
on the joy of opportunity,
on the sweet soaring ride
of being you.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 2, 2017
Sometimes in dream
you think you stumble into it,
sometimes you glimpse it
along the vectors
of possibility
And so you yearn for,
and strive to find,
a way you belong,
a thing you know you belong to
Not as a royal heir would have it
handed down with pomp and ceremony,
not as a thing hard earned
through study and examination
But as one who knows this place
deep in the heart,
who recognizes all its crevices
and remembers
all the life that has found shelter here,
one who can predict
the breath, the sigh,
the flutter of every feather,
one who can snuggle into this place
and be home.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 1, 2017
In the quiet of twilight
birds fly, and people walk or drive
to one perch or another
All of these
are like seeds,
every one of them full
of the glorious hopefulness of life
that chortles and bubbles
as if to burst its envelope
but which, instead, carries them along,
puts bounce into their being,
sings the song of them
even as they live it
Every one of them waiting
for the sure sign of their belovedness
so they can spring forth, holding back nothing,
so they can relax, borne up
on overflowing joy
Every one of them precious
in the eyes of anyone
who chooses to see them,
every one of them able
(on being seen)
to deliver the whole world.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 30, 2017
There is no fall,
we are not shards,
there is no fractured mirror.
We are not separate from light
nor are we light’s receptors
The light is not a fragile thing we hold inside
that could be smothered, snuffed out,
or extinguished.
It doesn’t dwell more brightly
in some than others,
it can’t be hoarded
or lorded over
It has been said that we are light.
Consider what that means —
for light can’t be divided,
can’t work against itself,
can’t know its own absence,
so full of presence and radiance
that light is all it sees.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 29, 2017
No sadness, large or small,
no let down, present or imagined,
has any right to cast a pall
on your exuberant existence
There may be things you need to learn—
this doesn’t make you bad.
The fires of transformation, as they burn,
will bring you, clear and brightened,
far beyond
anything you may have thought you had
Each of us gets to go there,
each of us has to —
each of us, emerging from the flames,
will be new-formed, holy,
and yet the very essence
of what we’ve always known we are.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 28, 2017
What do I owe the world today,
if not a set of clocked-in hours of labor?
Maybe I owe it
the sight of these pink clouds
over the power lines
and the planes streaking through
loud and aglow
and the sound of children up late
now that school is out —
maybe I owe the world
my now.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 27, 2017
Climb on your wheels,
salute the early sun,
attack the hill then glide on down,
this time is yours,
these breaths your own to take,
this is your course, this is your way
You will be free
in every challenge
and you will feel
your heart’s balance —
you’ll know it’s real
by how the wind embraces you
all down the trail, all down the day
You may not understand
how you are mixed in this,
what planes are you,
which are illusions,
but you will move
along the lines of what is true —
that’s how you’ll know,
how you’ll know you.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 25, 2017