About Death

January 11, 2016

Did you come home from Afghanistan?

A F G H A N I S T A N

The last I saw
Was all the dreams and all the hopes
In those pretty blue eyes
Confidently going to change the world
It was a rotten deal
Beware of all the mines
The sun was shining as you waved goodbye on the bus

Putting on my poker face
Everyday dealing the hand of
Keeping up facades

Days slowly going by
Eating up months
While I wait for the
Men in black
Knocking on my door
Handing me the folded flag

Will I ever see
Into this deep blue ocean
Of dreams and hopes?

Sing to me, little Darling
Sing my worries away in the night
Sing my fears away in the day
Sing when I wait for the
Men in black
Keep singing to me
While you’re away

They never came
To my door
Knocked on someone else’s

You came back
Everybody knows
You came home
All fine
Legs and arms intact
But it’s a scheme
To keep up the illusion

‘Cause you never came home
And everybody knows
How it goes
The deal was rotten
We met each other
In relief
Finally, the storm had passed

But the boat was leaking
The song was fading and
Men in black approaching

Our lips once again kissing
Finding each other in utter relief
Like the mother finding her lost child
Our bodies once again hugging
Longing for the familiar softness
Yearning for the once upon a time love

We tried
We really did
We know we did

All we find is a black hole
The terror in the eyes of castaways
The ache we feel
Is written here in blood
As real and actual
Like a stillborn baby
Dreams and hopes shattered
With the snap-of-a-finger

Just like that
We find ourselves in the place
Where death needs a shoulder to cry

With the gun of war
We kill us
Like little feet
That come and go
Sometimes you come back
Sometimes you don’t
The deal was rotten

A F G H A N I S T A N

December 24, 2015

Once upon a time…

Let me tell you

What it feels like

To be left out

 

Once upon a time

There was a little girl

Her green eyes the passway to the star of Sirius

Her little hands painting the magic of the Universe

Through her All was One and One was All

 

Let me tell you

What it feels like

To be left out

 

Once upon a time

There was a little girl

Inside a voice softly caressed her whispering

Who are you to think you are magical?

Who are you to think you are All?

 

Let me tell you

What it feels like

To be left out

 

Was it the innocent words of ignorant boys

Spoken to a girl uncomfortable in the shape of her growing body

Too fast

Too tall

Too weird?

 

Or was it the voice inside her head

Going from soft and caressing to insisting and persuading

Penetrating her Open Heart

With its sophisticated and exquisite

Play of Chess?

 

Let me tell you

What it feels like

To be left out

 

Checkmate!

 

Once upon a time

There was a little girl

Who got caught up in the maze of her own mind

Lured into the Gingerbread house of Hansel and Gretel

Caught in a cage with Nāga

 

Let me tell you

What it feels like

To be left out

 

One day

She got up and out of the corner of the cage

Breathed into her belly

The passway to the star of Sirius

The magic of the Universe

Once upon a time

There was a little girl

Who fiercely looked the cobra in his eyes

And in the space between his hiss

And her realization of the illusion

 

In that space where all is

Without time

She caught her hidden wisdom

The death of who she had become

The death of whom she thought she was

 

Let me tell you

What it feels like

To be left out

 

Once upon a time

There was a woman

Transformed with the speed of light

Into something new that was in fact really old

Directed her to whom she already was

 

Who she had always been

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

December 22, 2015

EGO=Enlightenment Gone Obsessive

If everyone was blind
Who would I try to impress?

See me
Hear me
Believe me
Recognize me
Acknowledge me
Accept me
Admire me
Love me

Me
Me
Me…

EGO=Enlightenment Gone Obsessive

So I am enlightened
Or so I wish to believe

And let everyone know
Who sees me

Recognize me
For who I have become

Admire me
For what I have to say

Accept me
For the peaceful loving and blissed soul I am

Me
Me
Me…

If everyone was blind
Who would I try to impress?

EGO=Everyone Grasping for Oneness

So what if I was enlightened
So what?

So what if I went to Nirvana
So what?

So what if I met God on Buddingevej
So what?

Me
Me
Me…

If everyone was blind
Who would I try to impress?

EGO=Everything Gone Over the top

Could I let go of me
And expect nothing in return?

Could I be in service so small (to the ego)
That no one would even recognize the service?

Could I try to impress no one
Even if everyone was blind?

November 4, 2015

About Death IV (and about fears)

It started with a french fry. 20 years ago. But she still feels it. As if it were today.

The feeling of the french fry getting stuck in her throath.

The first conscious experience of mortality.

It wasn’t. The french fry. Getting stuck.

It happend in her mind.

And this was just the beginning.

But she had no idea.

20 years later and looking back. The fear of death was overwhelming her.

The fear of not being good enough.

Pretty enough.

Girly enough.

Beautiful enough.

Sexy enough.

Smart enough.

Clever enough.

Intelligent enough.

Important enough.

Worth enough.

She had no idea. That all of these ‘qualities’. All of these labels.

They do not matter.

All of her insecurities. Built up. Exploded in one french fry. That got stuck in her mind.

And haunted her for many years to come.

She didn’t know that you can die your insecurities.

She had no idea.

October 25, 2015

About Death III (and about the heart)

Can you die from a broken heart?

Yes, you probably can.

But you can also die if you don’t let your heart love.

You can die if you don’t live with an open heart.

No matter what hits you.

Even if you risk getting hurt.

Even if you risk getting it broken.

Even if you risk a little of yourself. Everytime you open your heart.

And love.

Again and again.

And again.

Open your heart.

And love.

It Is Really The Only Thing You Can Do.

October 18, 2015

About Death II

“I want a divorce.” He stood leaning against the kitchen window ledge on the first day of fall. The sky is grey. The clouds raging by. It rains. Heavily.

I knew he ment it.

My brain works hard. Usually, in these situations I’d say something like: “Well, then we might as well get divorced.” Then we’d fight some more.

And argue. Loudly. Back and forth.

Something like: “Come on, we have to make this work.” Usually, it would be him saying that. Then I’d act a little aloof. Waiting for him to apologize. He only did that the first years of our marriage.

Then finally, we’d end up agreeing on something come on ish. Somewhat like when you’re totally behind in a sporting event and then during the time out everyone is yelling their head off: “Come ON. Come ooooooooooooooooooooooooooon…”

But unlike how it used to be, I wasn’t the one threatening to get a divorce. He was the one wanting one.

Do you see the difference?

Getting a divorce. And wanting a divorce.

So I tried to keep calm.

“Come on. You don’t mean that. You don’t want that.”

“Yes. We are getting a divorce. There is no way back.”

No way around. Or no way out. My brain locked. My heart stopped. My image of our picture perfect family went to pieces. In one split second. Just like lightning ripping through a summer night’s sky. without warning.

When did our marriage die?

October 12, 2015

About Death

I sit with him. For two and a half hours. His breathing is fast. And shallow. I don’t know him. I’ve never met him before. I only know his first name. He’s been lying in this bed for a week now. Unconscious. Waiting for his organs to shut down. The body to say goodbye. He’s not old.

I talk to him about the view. Which is amazing. It is a Sunday morning. The fall sky is blue. Clear and blue. The sun is shining. I sing. And talk. About this and that. I read a little. And draw. A mandala. I call it Blood Moon. I tell him. About the last Blood Moon in 1982. And the next one occuring in 2033. Time is a strange thing.

After a couple of hours another volunteer is coming to sit with him. I say farewell. And right then and there he opens his eyes. A tear runs down his cheek. We look into each other’s eyes.

Human to human.

Soul to soul.

We talk in silence. And I speak out loud. It’s okay. I am right here.

Together, we’re in a place beyond time and perception. Beyond the thoughts and comprehension of the intellect. Beyond language.

It’s just us. Him and me. His gaze meeting mine.

We are one and the same.

The heart stops beating. He has traveled on. But before he did, he made a mark in me.

I am humble and grateful.