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Time to choose? Time to change?

When I feel Love 
It feels like I am falling into a deep blue lake
Of a baby’s eyes.

When I hate,
Darkness consumes me like smoke,
Smothering light and extinguishing all hope.
Knots in my gut and a sack on my shoulders
Head bowed by heavy boulders.
Irritated by the sun
And almost everyone,
I feel tense and numb,
Paralysed and dumb.
My mouth, a frozen sneer 
And the only sound I hear
Is my rattling breath, choked by fear
And the groan of a rusty wall,
Closing, menacing, dark and tall
In the city of my mind.
And I am agitated, worn-out, vigilant yet blind
And time sluggishly passes on and on
Like the tick tick tick of an unavoidable bomb.

When I love
I gaze in wonder
At a dewdrop on a leaf.
And raise my face
To the cleansing rain
And open my arms in appreciation
To the caressing breeze.
My hands are warm
But my spine shivers with delight
As our eyes slowly meet.
And we fall into a natural rhythm
As we walk side by side in the green forest.
I am a friend to myself,
Basking in the luxury of BEING with You.
I am again surprised that I’m touched
By little things…
Like: the laughter of strangers
Passing by.
A child giggling, a baby crying,
A dog barking
And even the silly song on the radio
In the open door
And the plane passing overhead
Is all music to my ears.

Mmmm… this “Love” stuff, sounds so wonderful, 
Carefree, simple and uncomplicated,
But turning away, turning in, turning off, tuning in, turning up
Time and time again,
Whatever the weather,
Is a spiritual practice.
And: is not easy (oh how I know) 
And: requires grit and resilience.
Especially 
In times of inconvenient and uncomfortable change
And uncertainty.

And:

When I’m a slave to the voices in my head
It’s like I’m being led (or misled)
Backwards and forwards again and again,
A ghostly, battle-scarred yet noisy train, 
Fixed on the railway tracks of my obsolete trauma,
A well known, but now boring and repetitive drama.
Never can rest and always too much to do,
Habitually pushing but never finding a way through,
Until it get’s to a point that I just don’t know what to do.

And I stop. 
Or break.

And fall helplessly into the darkness.
But what I sincerely believed was a bottomless pit
Is actually a rich soil full of seeds.
And all they were waiting for
Was my childlike curiosity (undivided), attention
And the light of my awareness.
And as I become again sensitive
And listen to the whispering spring 
That was always there.
I sense my Heart calling 
And guiding me 
Back home
To a place
And parts of me
That I recognise 
And intrinsically know. 

© Sangeet Portals October 2021
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