A New Challenge (18)

Poem For A Grieving Process

Reading time: 5 minutes

Image: author

Since the beginning of this year, life has been one giant roller coaster in which so many buttons were pushed, that recently I began to doubt if anything has been learned since I arrived in this world 51 years ago today. However, the upside of that fact is that it provides a lot of material for stories, because, let’s be honest, a life without troubles is boring – at best!

What became clear though in the last weeks, is that I have never grieved for things that I really wanted (consciously and unconsciously), but which never materialized. Therefore I created a mourning ritual in order to consciously take time to mourn all those delusional beliefs, convictions, and fantasies, that never materialized. For as illusory as they were, they proved to be the footholds to keep one thing alive in difficult and desperate times: hope.

Image: author

Yet, as with any demons that aren’t given the time and attention they need (and deserve) to be processed, they will keep haunting us until the end of our days. Therefore, I thought today to be the perfect day to begin this mourning process with a ritual; to spend conscious time and attention with all those footholds, and thank them for the hope they provided when that was dire needed.

In a next article of this series I will go deeper into the buttons that were pushed, the effects it had on me, and how that was handled. Now, I will share with you a poem that emerged while preparing for the ritual.

While writing the poem, it quickly became clear that I wasn’t writing the words, but they were writing themselves through me. As a result it went into directions I could never have foreseen.

May it shine a light and brighten your day.

Image: author

Gratitude For What Was Wished, But Never Manifested

For having believed,
The roles that I play,
The need to be,
A defined being.

For having bought into,
The permanence of Erik,
Of Erik’s duty to do good,
And to refrain from doing evil,

Of Erik’s obligation,
To be one thing,
As opposed to being,
Another.

All that has contributed,
To a sense of separateness,
Culminating into,
A wish to be seen,

Nurtured and cared for,
By a mother/lover,
Acknowledged and praised,
As an entertainer/drummer.

The conviction that peace,
Can be found only outside,
Is precisely the veil,
That hides the Truth.

The Truth of Ultimate Reality,
Where everything is God,
And God is everything,

Where a girl drinking milk,
Is nothing but God,
Being poured into God.

God doing the writing,
God being these words that are written,
God doing the slaughtering,
And God being the slaughtered,
God doing the loving,
And God being the loved.

God being the sounds,
Entering into God’s ears,
God being the sights,
Entering into God’s eyes,
God being the tangibles, tastes, and smells,
Entering into God’s skin, tongue, and nose,
And God being the thoughts,
Entering into God’s mind.

Only when the mind is calm,
Can the words of God be heard,
When consciousness is open,
My direction will be clear.

I cannot think it,
I cannot imagine it,
Yet, it is thought,
And it is imagined.

I is the figment of imagination,
That role, at least so I assumed,
Was the one and only truth,
And ought to be
Permanent.

The big lie is I,
As a defined being,
Which should not change,
Despite its inevitability.

Like the flame of a candle,
Am I a funnel through which
Energy flows.
Ever changing, never the same,
From one moment to the next,
How can I be permanent?

To be a phenomenon through which
Transformation happens,
Is to show others,
That they are too.

By opening up
About my struggles,
By sharing my weaknesses,
Fear is overcome,
Of other’s reactions.

Fear of other’s reactions,
Means the sense of separateness,
Is still anchored in my organism.

This is especially true
For my sensual desires,
Which are still regarded as mine,
And not God’s.

A bridge can only function,
When it has a solid foundation,
On both sides of the water.

I is on the one side,
The other side
Is the outside of I,
It is God knowing to be God.

For to allow God to speak,
I must be willing to listen.
To be able to listen,
I must be willing to be silent.

In order to be silent,
The six sense-doors should be
Covered by a filter;
It does not prevent sense-objects
From entering,
But it reveals
Their illusory nature.

For all of my attachments,
That I knowingly or unknowingly
Was pursuing,
But which never materialized,
I now grieve.

I grieve for all the dreams,
That didn’t come true.
I grieve for holding on to the belief,
That they had to.

Grief, like any emotion,
When it arises
Needs to run its course.
Do not wish to speed it up,
Or wallow in it, or push it away,

By allowing it to be,
And take the time it needs,
I place trust in me,
And outside of me.

Outside is my nature,
My nature is Nature,
And Nature is Earth,
And Earth is Heaven,
And Heaven is Space,
And Space is Void,
And Void is Tao,
And Tao is Brahman,
And Brahman is Allah,
And Allah is the Ground of Being,
And the Ground of Being is Change,
And Change is God,
And God is I,
And I am you,
And you are I.

Therefore, as above – so below,
To allow life to happen, in all its manifestations,
I wish to let myself go.

Even though that’s also a trap,
It’s yet another I-method,
With which I can never be
Transcended.
Yet it can be used,
In the process
Toward it.

Therefore, if grief happens,
Allow it to happen,
For it is God grieving, not I.
If anger happens,
Allow it to happen,
Accept it without reacting to it,
For it is God being angry, not I.
If ecstasy happens,
Enjoy it without clinging to it,
For it is God being ecstatic, not I.
And if anxiety happens,
Let it run its course,
Without trying to stop or repress it,
For it is God being anxious, not I.

Become the witness,
Of all these moving energies,
Incessantly alternating,
Through my body and mind.

And realize,
What I am,
What we are,
What the whole universe
Is.

Warm & jolly greetings,
Erik