Well, it would be the same hubris
to say I heard the call
but failed to answer
as to say
that only I was called
as if the calling
were a voice I could refuse,
as if, on hearing it,
there could still be anything else
I might prefer to do
as if there were a me
with any purpose or existence
beside the magnitude
of what I’d understand myself to be,
what I’d embody
in answering the call.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 17, 2020
Try this out, just for a moment –
being satisfied with what you are –
not in contrast to any others,
not in reference to a former self
Inhabit this – and not as an exception –
Have reference only to your present self –
What you are is just what feeds this moment
with the delight that glints through all its folds
This is enough! In fact, it’s overflowing –
Let its lightness billow through your form,
let it lift you up and take you flying –
you can come back down
any time you want.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 15, 2020
In the space between
what I think I believe
and what I really,
there is room for falling
and also room for reckoning,
the evidence being clear
in my face and in my actions
and how I move through the day
What I am believing
casts its shadow
across who I think I am
and what is happening to me,
and if I don’t like the shadow
I can change it,
but only as I change what casts it
Let me look up,
Let me draw no conclusions
from tricks of the light.
Let me look up
to realign myself
with what is true.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 14, 2020
Where do I live?
What ribbons of contiguity
define my thought? How are they affixed?
What winds do they blow in? These stories
of sequenced events, cause and effect –
how much of them do I write myself,
and what inspires me?
What do I copy, what do I notice,
how much attention do I pay
to what I’ve written down?
These are important questions.
I won’t try to answer
before I’ve asked them fully,
I’ll let their unfurling consequences
make it clear,
and I will turn for confirmation
ever back to my creator,
I’ll turn for affirmation
to my source.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 13, 2020
Evening can look like rainfall
these shorter days,
falling and falling in front of my eyes,
rain I can see but not feel –
what looks like a socked in sky
may really be sundown
sneaking in behind the clouds
It feels silent
but I can still hear ravens
and the rattle of the ladder
and the hum of distant traffic,
the quiet being, actually,
the day’s anticipation of the night,
their brief meeting
soft as the clasp of hands.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 12, 2020
More dangerous to me than hardship
is the vapid satisfaction
that accepts a lie about my being
because it’s not that bad,
that accepts a happy that is disempowered,
that lets a picture of a good life
obscure the depth and brilliance
of a life truly lived,
a life whose purpose is
to show the presence of
the good encompassing
the whole of being,
healing and including all the world.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 10, 2020
I have seen the kingdom
and it is within – it is the impulse
of my consciousness, the realm
of my desire, my hope, my love,
and that which governs them
I have seen the kingdom
and it is within – it’s what insists
on justice, what won’t settle
for lies, for privilege,
for ignorant oppression,
for childish blindness
to the things that need to change
I’ve seen the kingdom
in the hearts of others,
and I recognized the clarity,
the sudden opening –
vast canyons and the breathtaking
settledness, commanding calm,
the wave of certainty that washes doubt away –
kingdom within, in me, in us, as one.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 9, 2020
The cold sun has weathered me today,
leaving me attracted to fire,
to radiant warmth,
though it washes me
in sandstone red, muting
my thoughts and feelings,
wearing down my words
Sleep will be easy
as the outside cold
sucks the heat out of the cabin
once the fire is gone.
We will stay warm wrapped in blankets
and dream on through the darkness
to the cold dawn.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 8, 2020
The light catches us
in moments we didn’t pose for,
renders us radiant
in the midst of daily efforts
we thought we were just
trying to get through
But actually it’s showing us
what we are –
made of brilliance,
of spontaneous
glory and grace,
just like everything
we share this earth with,
finding home within the power of place.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 7, 2020
I shook myself awake
from where I was wandering
through memories of young adulthood,
ways I thought, and things I said and did
The mood had gotten tedious,
a haze of self-dissatisfaction
slouching in, making it hard to breathe
I didn’t ask for this,
didn’t give permission for my mind
to fill with toxins, for the mood
to be this semi-dismal color
So I shook myself awake –
I didn’t need to dwell there
and my past did not require me
to be paraded back, head hung down
For one could also say
that I was young, and that my ignorance
was not my fault (or not entirely)
And one could say
if I have truly woken up
then all of that was just a story –
none of it can cling to who I am,
and none of it can sully who I was.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 6, 2020