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Mystic Memory

It was August, mile four,
one of my long walks.
Quiet, peaceful, simple,
thoughts fired into memories.

Feeling, from all those years ago,
the shade of grandparent trees,
porch time with Sallie and Henry.

The memories thick as fireflies
on such a Mississippi evening.

The red and white kitchen table,
the window behind the bench at that table.

The cupcakes,
oh my, the cupcakes!

I was safe, then,
so safe.

Still, there’s safety in the present,
but no one else must hold the pearl.

Yes, that was a tender time,
open and wide.

I was safe, because?
Because of love,
because of love, unconditional.

In such safety,
unconditionally,
every little thing
had meaning.

The source of meaning was from without,
graciously held by those showing me
the pearl of great price,
the Trueness within.

And from within,
now meaning flows.
Then, every little thing had meaning.
Now, up to me it is
to know meaning in
everything belongs.

–J. Brunson

The Moment, by Anna Sabino

The Moment, by Anna Sabino

Silent Freedom

Mystery
not the agent of fear,
of what we are afraid.

The absurdity of it all,
our angst, our anxiety,
fixed in a demand to control.

Whatever is missing
has been dismissed
in the waste of fear.

And mysterious still
how one might believe,
ever was there
any chance of control.

What then was dismissed
from fear, without thought?

Was it loss?
Was it love?

Providence not trusted,
in the flow of it all, it all
moves with us, or without us,
but so wants the divineness
of our presence.

In a loud world,
a distracting swirl,
silence is a mystery.

But silence we need,
for more than a bit, to hold,
and without judgment, release.

Letting go,
how can this be,
possibly be,
the way to steer,
a source to guide?

Simple it is,
to be led out there
one has to be guided
in here.

And the source,
the guide,
from your beginning,
is away from the fray.

In the silence,
in the depths
of The Presence,
is the middle
of your being.

Here, in the middle
of who you are,
since the start,
is inclusive freedom.

–J. Brunson

Silent Mystery - by Anna Sabino

Silent Mystery – by Anna Sabino

Trust the Mystery

The mystery of impact,
a paradox hard to hold,
being who I am
doing what I do,
to what end?

The answer held truly
by the one, herself
by the one, himself
read aloud in their own lives.

In the theater of my life,
I stand somewhere between
the second and final acts,
scenes replaying and lovingly teaching.

Youth now walks behind me,
but deserted me it has not.
Its diligence dutiful and due,
its design served adequately.

From the words of life & living,
a manuscript evolving,
my impact unfolding in the chapters,
written by others
finally by me being read.

And read I do
often and openly.
no longer hiding,
impact embracing,
the mystery holding,
the mystery holding me.

– J. Brunson

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Here’s the Thing

You know good things.
With such truth,
knowledge, and reality.

Time for you, a self true,
doing your best to see
energy with purpose to be.

Others see, so must you.
Not about ego this seeing,
the truth of where you are,
the truth of where you’ve been,
what you have done.

Why you do
what you do
is given to spirit.
This is trust.
This is faith.

Stand,
and face
the reality
of goodness.

You now move along the path
with life, living and being, doing.
Being who you are, gratefully.
Doing what you do, generously.

–J. Brunson

Accompanying Post: Shared Love

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“The Path” by Anna Sabino

Quiet and Clear

Distraught and struggling
an answer to find,
to a question not heard.

Too often, lonely lives
in the thick of action,
whirling activity draining
the energy of who you are.

A journey toward lonely,
not always alone,
such is met.

Your work demands,
in working, expectations
soar, with no control.
Letting go, foreign.

A question
beautifully asked
intent unobstructed
seats you in the moment.

Let go, into
the question
listen, from that
present seat.

Comfort it’s not about
to disturb, not meant,
but both will occur
as the question opens.

Trusting what stirs within,
voices blend
quietly, clearly.

–J. Brunson

Accompanying Post: Rhythm

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Oft revealed, a return
to where you began.

Through years unfolding
a trail hacked
hard work a blade.

Beneath each step
a path unfolding.

Tested, fired, purified
confirmed and worn.

Emerging into a clearing
intensity of flow you feel
from the course, schooled to hear
generously opened by what you see.

In this moment, now
you discover yourself.

On one side, steady
on the other, ruffled
and thus, equipped.

From instructor
through instruction
in the now you release
the poetry of presence.

From teaching you came
to learning you return.

–J.Brunson

Accompanying Post: Voice of the Other

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Peace Betwixt

One’s desire is this.
One’s intent is that.
And between the two
is Desire & Intent
two becoming one.

Masterfully you allow
the overlap of this and that.
So doing, you make peace.
To experience fully, natural.
To love deeply, intentional.

Peacefully, a teacher born.
Purposefully, a teacher lives.

Alive in the space of overlap
teaching us to feel
teaching us to hear
teaching us to see
our almond of peace
in the overlap
of our this, our that.

Lovingly, rhythmically, our hand you take
pulling us into the tension,
into the reality of paradox
feeling, hearing, seeing with us
the impact of peace between.

–J.Brunson

Accompanying Post: Voice of the Leader Within

Ohio Beauty – by Anna Sabino

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