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Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781490776361 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Trafford Publishing |
| Publication date: | 08/22/2016 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 108 |
| File size: | 608 KB |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
Fierce Protectors and Kindly Guides
By John Knox McIlwain
Trafford Publishing
Copyright © 2016 John Knox McIlwainAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4907-7635-4
CHAPTER 1
THE SACRED MOUNTAIN
Across the wide valley,
Past the snaking river,
Broad shouldered,
Sits the sacred mountain.
In the evening it filled me.
In the morning it brought tears.
"Serve the Great Spirit," it said,
"And I will fill you,
Hold you.
Take the message of love.
Share the one consciousness.
Serve all the brothers and sisters.
Be among them
While I sit silent,
Waiting for the people to come home,
To be held
As I hold you."
I bow and say yes.
THE WORK OF THE DAY
Being emerges
Like the sun rising over the morning hills,
Silencing words that,
Like soaring gulls,
Fill the air.
Mists of night disperse
Displaying in its fullness
The crystal clarity of early day.
For a moment
The sun hangs suspended,
Balanced between the shadows and the light,
All possibilities revealed,
Waters shimmering with love,
Hearts open in wonder.
Then the day progresses
On its appointed tasks.
We forget.
Yet the heart remembers
The fullness
That no words can touch.
But what is our true task
As we seek our broken way
But to find again that Being
That rose like break of day,
And live each moment
In the breathing of our hearts,
To see the rising of the sun
And hear the silence of the center.
The job of life?
Remember to remember.
SPIRITS OF THE NORTH
The Spirits of the North
Bring us the cold winds,
The winds that challenge,
The winds that wound,
The winds of our discomfort.
Honor them,
The wild ones.
They bring us wisdom,
Teach skillful ways,
Demand attention,
Sweeping clean the barns of our sad lethargy,
Bending the tall trees of our arrogance,
Stirring seas that trouble hearts,
Seeking the deeper truths,
The shadows,
The demons that lie below,
Restless, perturbed,
Aggrieved.
Let us bow to the North,
Shout "Ho!"
Open arms and hearts
That dark demons may arise,
Bringing new life,
Breaking old rules.
Bow to the North,
And honor the Spirits of Darkness!
THE WHITE SNAKE
In the dream the White Snake came,
Coiling and uncoiling
About my feet,
Powerful and silent,
Until at last she rose
As tall as me with gaping mouth,
Tongue, teeth and fangs,
Turning to devour me.
I awoke in terror,
Whimpering in fear.
What did she seek?
Who did she seek?
Since that night years ago
Nothing has been the same.
A carapace is peeling back,
Slow shedding of dead skin,
Exposing a soft and opening heart,
Revealing wounds that one by one
Are slowly healed.
Life opening to the three worlds
And spirits of the six directions,
To ancestors, plants, and animals,
The ones that wait for us,
Call out for us to listen and to heed
Ancient wisdoms we've forgotten.
They prod and taunt us,
Fierce protectors and kindly guides,
Steering us from safety and the shore
Into dark of night, the unexplored,
That we might be that which we are,
Beings shimmering in the void,
Knowing ourselves at last,
Swallowed whole by the Snake of our devotion,
The Serpent of our creation.
SUNDAY ZEN
Tribeca loft
Sunday afternoon
Zazen
Cobblestone rumble of cars
Occasional horn
Sun slants
Through drawn shades
Legs crossed
Numb
Back straight
Aching
Breathing in
Breathing out
For hours
Mind wandering
Silence
The master attentive
Breathing in
Breathing out
No reason
No goal
No why
No peace
THE ANCIENT APPLE TREE
The old apple tree calls silently,
Whispering in my heart,
As it watches summer unfold
Up on the coast of Maine.
I almost said "our apple tree,"
For though it sits on land that we,
By common agreement and human law,
Are said to own,
It's only in our arrogance that
We claim this land as ours.
The tree was there long before,
Planted by another generation
For its grace, its beauty, and its fruit,
A promise to the future.
It stands today, a hundred summers hence,
Gnarled arms out stretched, caught mid-dance,
Arched over the small house,
Conversing with the spirits of the land,
Offering us kindness and protection.
How is it that we have been received?
For when we stand upon that ground
We're held by all around
With gentle grace and soft murmurings
Of love and kinship.
Perhaps it was this aged tree
Who brought us to its home,
Reached out for us to join
The spirits of the land
To live in peace among them?
Why else would the spirit of this tree
call us from afar to feed our souls
Even as we look at other trees
That over reach a small Brooklyn deck?
THE F TRAIN
The F train is a subway line from Brooklyn to Manhattan
Each in our own private worlds,
Held inside,
As the car runs the tunnels through the city,
Weaving the spider's web in darkness.
Books, papers, earphones,
Our own private fears,
Praying silently for safety.
No surprises, no adventures today.
Looking warily about
We rattle on,
Resigned, impatient,
Holding tightly
Against the gnawing beast
Inside.
Or maybe they are happy travelers
At peace with life and with themselves
While I, lost in my own projections,
Let them carry for me my fears,
The demons that lurk within.
Shall I ask them?
THE SECRET
The trees insist,
Waving their tops to the sky,
Blown in windswept dance,
Leaves open, yearning, reaching,
Watch us!
Dance to life with us!
Though the sky may be grey
With scudding clouds,
Watch as we pull life from the earth
And toss it to the sun
There behind the clouds
Awaiting us.
Awaiting you as well,
Brother man, sister woman.
We are but your heart
Springing up for you
Even while you forget,
Imagine yourself alone,
Pretend yourself small.
Your secret's safe with us,
Your glory and your ecstasy.
Remember, it's our secret too,
Which we throw wildly away
For all to share.
OUR FIRST MORNING IN MAINE
We arrived last night,
Road weary and happy,
To a small house on the coast
That greets us with a smile as we pull in,
Car laden with all we think we need.
So many seasons now and it's always new.
The same house welcomes us,
Takes us in with warmth,
And yet
We've never before been here.
Around us the early signs of spring,
Fresh leaves again,
Some bold, some insecure;
So many shades of green,
And bright yellows to shock the eye.
The robin builds her nest again
Right by the kitchen door.
Why won't she ever learn?
Meanwhile, the life around us
Whispers softly on the breeze,
"It's spring again and though we're back,
We've never seen this day.
"You, who've come and gone for years,
Do you know at last you're new?
You, who come from city life,
How open are your ears?
"We, who do not wait,
wait for you to hear our songs
And the music of the dance.
"You've been out of step, you see,
Stepped on others toes,
Not heard the music playing
More darkly now than ever.
It's been your turn for many years
To step in to the circle,
To whirl and spin, your robes splayed out.
"And while you dance you'll find
That all you'll need is in the air.
For when you stand on Mother Earth,
All you need is in your heart.
"We welcome you to this small house
The same as every year.
Once more it's new again,
Yet it's always been the same.
May you as well be new once more
With open heart and ears,
The sum of all your many selves,
Of all that's past and gone.
Know as well there is no past,
It's but a passing thought.
The future, too, is but a myth.
All you are today and will forever be,
Is all that you'll become."
LIFE'S ILLUSIONS
Slowly the fog lifts
As silence settles in.
A gull laughs,
A lone bird sings.
The harbor's still, the water flat.
There's no one else about.
It's all our own for just awhile
As the tide eases out.
Sitting on the wharf,
Sun warmed,
Feeling the flow of energy.
Land and water
Hold their breath.
Life resting now,
Potent,
Effulgent,
Complete.
To think,
Some god created this universe,
Billions of galaxies all filled
With stars and planets all about,
So on a certain Sunday morning
We could sit in silence
Amidst a beauty beyond words,
Sharing it with trees and birds,
All of life in balance.
What a lot to do so
We could have this blessing.
While galaxies abound in space
With each breath we take
We sit awash in grace.
If, as some have said,
All life's illusion,
Well, then, I say that,
As illusions go,
This one's mighty fine.
STEPPING AWAY
Step by step
The tethers of a mundane world
Release.
A lifetime's career
Ends piece by piece;
Leaves falling from a tree
That's sheltered and held me safe.
When at last the guests
Have left the party,
The room now quiet,
It's time to clean the house
And reminisce.
A sadness of leaving,
Yet the silence welcome.
It's a new time,
A time to rest,
To be restless;
A time to explore new pathways,
Look at life anew.
Nothing to do
But trust;
New life emerging,
New spring leaves,
Another round of guests
To welcome and embrace.
There's tenderness and loss
Like losing the familiar store,
The one across the street,
Where once they knew your name.
But it comes,
The end of the career,
(Hard to even write).
So much life gone,
All memories now,
Good ones and hard as well.
Settling in to a new land,
One without paths.
Like cresting a hill to find
Only fog,
No view ahead.
So step slowly,
Softly,
Listen.
There will be guides
All in time.
Allow the healing.
Honor the pain.
Welcome the loss,
The gift of endings.
For more will come
In their own good time.
Practice letting the wheel turn free,
Look around
For life teems everywhere.
Be grateful for this breath.
Be kind and honor the guides.
THE VISA
You ask, perhaps, where might Nirvana be
And how it would feel to live there?
Well, every now and then
Gratitude for life
Overtakes me,
Overcomes me,
Overwhelms me.
Awash in gratitude,
Submerged in bliss,
I'm granted a visa to Nirvana
To rest a moment in its grace.
50 YEARS IS A GOOD START!
For friends on their fiftieth wedding anniversary.
How many years does it take
To come to know
Myself?
You?
That luminous being that is us?
50 years is a good start,
Time to finish up the preliminaries,
Explore the tender parts
Behind the walls we build
In childhood.
Time enough to raise the kids
And make enough mistakes
For guilt and shame to visit us.
Time enough to pay obeisance to the world,
Play the roles assigned.
Now, preliminaries over,
It's time for the greater mysteries.
Who am I truly?
Who are you truly?
Who is this numinous being
That is us truly?
The mysteries of heart,
Mine,
Yours,
Ours,
And that greater mystery,
The mystery of the Great Heart.
Yes, 50 years is a good start.
Preliminaries over,
Now it's time to begin!
STONE BUDDHA SAYS
On our Brooklyn deck a stone stature of the Buddhas its.
Stone Buddha says,
"Feel me inside,
I'm your anger,
I'm your peace,
I'm your wounds,
I'm your love
And your compassion.
"Wherever you are
Feel me inside
And know
I know
Who you are
Even though you don't."
WANDERING IN THE WILDERNESS
When the Buddha sat under the Bodhi tree
Mara came to challenge,
Bringing demons to frighten, virgins to tempt.
But it was a bad day for Mara.
The Buddha reached down,
Touched a gentle earth,
And fear and lust were powerless.
But what is that to us?
Our demons still torment,
Lust and greed still pull.
Where's our Bodhi tree,
And the Mother's healing touch?
What did we hope to find
When we ate the sacred fruit?
Who was the angry god
Who drove us out of Eden?
We've lost our way in a wilderness.
Our paths go round in circles.
We map the way with minds
That fear a simple truth,
The truth of a quiet heart.
That in all our years of wandering
The home we seek is here.
We are the sacred fruit,
We are the angry god.
We never left the home we seek.
The only thing the Buddha taught:
All are Bodhi trees;
The Earth is holding us
While she awaits our touch,
The wilderness is in our minds
While Eden's in our hearts.
DINNER WITH THE NEIGHBORS
"Do you think," she said last Sunday,
"That as we age and memory fades
We're making room for God,
For the mystery and unknowable?"
After dinner we left and walked
Down through the springtime woods,
As in the east a full moon rose
Still caught among the branches.
Night opened out to us,
Sweet smell of woods at night,
While from the pond
The raucous sound of frogs
Celebrating the return of spring
With a nighttime bacchanal.
At home we walked across the lawn,
Smelled the earth, the grass,
Heard small waves that licked the beach,
Gazed upon those stars that dared
Compete against a clear black sky
With the rising of the moon.
On the wharf we smelled
The waters of the gentle harbor,
Spiced with a salty tang
From off the nearby sea.
In the silence of the night
We heard a distant sound
Of breaking seas far off.
We walked that night
In Eden, God's mystery world,
Idling on our way,
Cherishing the gift of life.
We thought the trade most fair,
To empty out our memories,
So full with lives well lived,
For the magic and the mystery
Of each new moment now.
What better way to walk the path
Leading to that open door
But to open up more room inside
For the grace of woods and moon,
Of sea and stars and the gift of every moment,
This life on Mother Earth.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Fierce Protectors and Kindly Guides by John Knox McIlwain. Copyright © 2016 John Knox McIlwain. Excerpted by permission of Trafford Publishing.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Contents
THE SACRED MOUNTAIN, 1,THE WORK OF THE DAY, 3,
SPIRITS OF THE NORTH, 5,
THE WHITE SNAKE, 7,
SUNDAY ZEN, 9,
THE ANCIENT APPLE TREE, 11,
THE F TRAIN, 13,
THE SECRET, 15,
OUR FIRST MORNING IN MAINE, 17,
LIFE'S ILLUSIONS, 21,
STEPPING AWAY, 23,
THE VISA, 27,
50 YEARS IS A GOOD START!, 29,
STONE BUDDHA SAYS, 31,
WANDERING IN THE WILDERNESS, 33,
DINNER WITH THE NEIGHBORS, 35,
NIGHT OF THE FLOWER MOON, 37,
A SPRING BLESSING, 39,
A BROOKLYN APRIL, 41,
HAIKU, 43,
MONDAY MORNING, 45,
PRAYER FLAGS, 47,
GOING FOR A ROW, 49,
NIGHT OF THE ROSE MOON, 53,
LUNCH, 55,
AUGUST, 57,
THE DOORMAN, 59,
DANCING WITH THE TREES, 63,
MORNING, 65,
DANCING WITH THE FOG, 67,
TURNINGS, 71,
A COLD WEST WIND, 73,
ABOUT TIME, 75,
MY NEW MORNING WITH YOU, 77,
GIFTS, 79,
REST IN LIFE, 83,
HARBORS, 85,
TIME FOR A DRINK, 89,
WALKING BEHIND A POEM, 91,