This is why I write

 

Since I started publishing my writing I have been getting responses that, to be honest, I don’t really know how to respond to because I had no idea the effect that revealing my soul would have.

After receiving this message from one of my readers (who really should be doing her own writing) that so gracefully sums up everything I have been hearing I have decided that the best I can do is to let each of you know that you are not alone in the way you feel by sharing her words (with her permission, of course).

Every one of us, myself included, longs for the sort of love and passion I so often write about. It’s not just okay to feel that longing, I encourage it. I say embrace it. Let it become the light that shines the way on your path. Let those awakened desires and enflamed passions provoke you to release the person you’ve been keeping locked up out of fear or shame or guilt or doubt or whatever reason it is that you have chosen to lock up that beautiful goddess, the wild woman, child. Let that light bring you to a place where it can join with another or many others and shine the way for everyone you meet. Let it light your world.

My wish for you is that you love. Someone. Everyone. But mostly yourself. Love like there is no tomorrow because Now is all we have and right now you need Love.

You are perfect as you are. You are ready.

You are loved and in that Love we are One.

James

 


 

A longing for the deepest of all connections had taunted her for so long, she had given up…. almost. No longer looking, she resigned herself to a state of perpetual suadade.

What she had learned is this – she couldn’t exist in a relationship that functioned at only a surface level. Long ago she had tried. Talking only about mundane chitty-chat topics, gripes and irritations of the day, silly plans of the next acquisition, negativity, rigidity, disapproval and controlling behavior – she had listened accommodatingly all the while feeling her life force slowly withering. The stilted unease of being with a pessimistic, shallow person was artificial, stifling, claustrophobic. She could no longer breathe. She heard a faint whisper that grew louder and louder until her survivalist instinct was shouting at her, “There is more to life than this!” She finally listened. Love is not a tool used to limit and oppress. Love is a wonderment in its beauty, vast and enveloping with its sweet, gentle warmth, ever-changing, ever-expanding, infinite. She had a clear vision of the type of love she sought, but no idea as to how or where to find it.

Not that she didn’t try. But as she journeyed, each crest presented a glimmering landing that evaporated as she moved towards it. She bemoaned karma for its unwarranted unfairness, repaying her kindness and compassion toward others with but false promise and no substance each and every time. “That kind of love is a mirage,” she defiantly declared. But inner voice be damned, its persistent denial wouldn’t allow her to believe her own lie. Her soul still ached for that rare, ancient connection – two beings recognizing in each other their own self. So unfathomable in its rarity, so unspeakable in its mystery and yet for those who have found it, so complete in its simplicity.

Certain of its existence, she rationalized that perhaps she wasn’t ready. And so tucking it away deep inside, she went on with life. The longing lay dormant yet omnipresent. Alone, but not really lonely, she spent those years observing and reflecting. Where had she been? Where was she going? What was her destiny? Surely it was one of her own making. That she knew. Had she known at the time that each disappointment taught her secrets she needed to move incrementally closer to him, she would have realized that karma is just and never capricious. Only when you are ready will you find that which is your destiny.

And then, she read his words. He spoke to everyone, and yet he spoke only to her reaching deep into the innermost part of her soul. Joyful tears welled as she read and understood completely each and every thought. His introspection, honesty and courage ignited her. The life force flickered and danced within her. I’m not the only being who needs this to feel alive! Without even knowing her, he had offered proof positive that this depth of emotion exists and is a necessity for those who feel it. Resolute, she decided to resume her quest. But first she had to thank him…

Thank you, James, from the bottom of my heart!

***


 

You are so very welcome.

All is well

Frustration has gotten the best of me
I rest my head
On this little couch
In my little home
Close my eyes
Blurred with tears
Weary from failures
Too many times seen

I am exhausted
Sleep crawls over me
Emotions
Like a hard rain
Fall on me
Where dreams of you
Drift out from the cracks in my soul
Left open
For you to seep in
Like a healing mist

You fill the voids
The empty places
Fill me with hope
Desire
Passion
Love

I wake hard
Touching myself
With apprehension
Fear that I have been alone too long
Fear I will fail
Overreact
Fear of the known
The unknown
Fear of my Self
Fear of fear

Then a calm
Like a blanket
Falls on me
As I feel you here with me
I let go
Let you in
I release fear
Embrace love
Breathe you in

My mind fills with thoughts of you
In my arms
My bed
My home
My life
My heart
My soul

I see what is
What can be
If we let it
It is good
And all is well

 

 

 

 

Image: “The Sourse of Inspiration” by Artem Chebokha

Meet me there

Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field. I’ll meet you there.

When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about.

Ideas, language, even the phrase each other
doesn’t make any sense.

-Rumi

 

Meet me there, Love,
and We,
filled with a touch,
a kiss,
a word,
will be made One
in heart and soul
and carry that fullness
into the world
and it will be made better
by simply being
Us.

 

 

Image by J.M.Greff

One person at a time

 

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As published in Elephant Journal 8/5/17

 

I see a young woman punished by a mind that differs from my own pushing a shopping cart through the dregs of society.

The aisles of humanity staggered randomly like blockades of sheeple that spite or ignore or pretend she does not even exist.

She winds carefully through the labyrinth. A test of the gods. A test of her worthiness that she believes she failed long ago.

I wonder: What test? What god would be so cruel to allow this woman, who carries the spark of the divine itself within her breast, to live like this? Why threaten to extinguish the gift of that spark?

I step in front of this woman, only occasionally glancing behind, and part the cascade of ignorance like Moses in a sea of flesh so she can make her way to the hovel that is her home.

I see a man on a corner with a worn sign that says “will work for food” and I know, without a doubt, that he has neither worked nor eaten in far too long. I watch the constant flow of people pass by like a river of wealth that is just beyond his reach while he slowly dies from dehydration.

I wonder: Why should he work for what the planet gives freely? Why should he be reduced to begging for that which comes naturally?

I step into the closest convenience store, a place convenient only to those with means, and spend what little is left on my debit card to ensure that he will not go another day without that which is his right, and I bring it to him with one request—that if he knows another who has not eaten, he share it. He looks at me and offers a portion, and I gently refuse because I have a job.

I see an old man struggling to carry his meager supplies to his humble home. He staggers under the weight of the few small bags that are his sole source of sustenance for the next month. His “retirement” is barely enough to pay for the two rooms in an ancient building that could, at any time, be condemned and leave him homeless.

I cross the street, add my own bags to his, and carry them all to the crumbling facade which represents the dreams of his youth. Without a word, I leave all the bags, including my own, at his door and walk away in silence as he speaks the only word we shared in those six blocks, “Why?”

I wonder: Where did he work so hard that I can see the memories of his past etched deeply into his face? Why did the system he paid into for so long leave him with not so much as cab fare to transfer a true month’s worth of food? Why would my actions, which seem so natural to me, leave him questioning my motives?

When I return home, I see myself in the mirror: this man that proclaims love, who shares it freely with the hungry, who widens the aisle with his imposing figure and intimidates the sheeple with a glance so the meek can pass, who carries the bags for those who are too weak to carry them, and leaves them with more than they started with—where would he be if not for the love and care of the one person who first offered the very same compassion that he feels for others: his Self.

I see their faces in my reflection. I feel their pain, know their suffering, and, in fact, share it.

Where would I be? Exactly where I am now—with them.

I quietly acknowledge my gratitude to a universe that gave me the gift of this vision and know that I am home.

If you want to change the world, begin with yourself, and then carry that change into the world one person at a time.

~

~

~

Author: J.M. Greff
Image: Pixabay/quinntheislander
Editor: Travis May

I am amazed

dream.state.artur.weber

 

I am amazed
Breathless
Speechless
My heart softens
and opens
at the thought of you
My soul reaches out
and finds you there
waiting
You are so much more
than I ever imagined
More than I thought
I deserve
You are the dream
I never dared dream
The light
I have always seen
Leading me ever
forward to you
You are the hand
that touches
those places inside
those places
kept hidden from others
The heart
I desire
The soul
I require
You are everything
You are My Love

 

 

Image: “Dream State” by Artur Weber

This morning

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I lay in bed this morning
and tried to imagine you there.
Would you be facing me?
Would I feel your breath on me?
Do you lay on your back?
Your belly?
Or would your back be to me?
What sounds would you be making?
Soft mewls like a kitten?
Loud and long?
Silent shallow breath?
If I whispered to you
would you respond?
Would you speak the words
I long to hear?
Would my name be on your lips?
Could I kiss those lips
to coax those words?
Could I kiss your neck
your back
your breasts
your belly
without waking you?
How many kisses would it take before you did?
If I reached out to touch you
how far could I explore?
How deep?
Would you respond to my touch?
If I pressed my growing hardness against you
would you press back?
Would you spread your legs just a little
as you slept?
Would you wake with a smile?
Invite me in?
Or would you pull away?

I will have those answers soon.
I will wake in the morning
hard with dreams of you.
Your name on my lips.
Your warmth
and your scent
mixed with mine.
The taste of you in my mouth.
Instead of this meager imagination
that drives my hand
to reach out to emptiness
as if you were there
and touches
only myself
I will feel you next to me
under me
driving my passion
deep inside
and we will know.

 

 

 

Hope

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I am taken by a calm of soul this morning. A peace which has eluded me for some time. So rare that I barely recognize it.

It penetrates my inner being through all layers of Self though it was born in an acceptance of that most base Self, the Shadow. That part that is child, artist, the voice of passion and impatience and arrogance and outrage and fear and shame and doubt.

I confronted it last night. Drew it from the depths. Acknowledged its fears. Gave it voice. Listened. Offered it compassion. Love. Then put it to rest because I am not my Shadow. He is just a part of me.

The calm I feel now is a jewel, a treasure of unimaginable value, it is Hope.

Not just Hope for myself but for you as well.

I know what it is you seek. You seek the life you never thought possible. The passion you’ve only read about. The commitment of heart and soul that you know exists but have never experienced. I know this because I seek it too and that is what gives me Hope. It means I am not alone. Neither are you.

Be willing to confront and embrace your Shadow, that inner voice that tries so hard to convince you that you are not worthy, that you will never receive the love you so desire, that your time will never come. It does this because it, too, wants and deserves your love, your affection, your attention, and, truly, your gratitude.

Listen to it. Treat it with the love you want in your life, and reassure it that it will never be alone because it is you. In loving and bringing compassion to that part of Self you love yourself and in loving yourself you keep Hope alive.

Have a blessed journey.