The Flow Constant

Love in the work,
work in the love,
and love works on me.

A quiet morning
and warm Spring rain
reminding of the obligation
to encourage true self,
allowing peace and quiet
at the center;
calmly pushing away
each unnecessary judgment.

This is love.
Quiet. Solid.
Steady and grounded in this Trueness,
it is a sure stand and steady walk;
it is this grace
given by love
of which we are part.

To place into words,
to define my Trueness,
what words might suffice?
Likely done already, this task
of defining self true,
work done in the very work
that called me out.

Yes, but maybe this work
only opens the door of consciousness.
So then, what does it look like
walking through, now enjoying
the deeper quiet, peace,
and love?

Maybe this walk is faith,
and maybe hope, leading
to the flow constant
of love.

–J. Brunson

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From the Beginning

Love is where I came from,
and love is where I’ll return.
In-between, intended it was,
love meant to guide and lead.
In reality love always did,
sadly, I didn’t always listen.
But now, blessed opportunity
and gift of awareness, I
can hear the voice of love
in everything I see–
but aware I must remain,
Wading
Walking
Wondering.
It’s my time to live,
live according
to the Trueness
given me
from the beginning.

–J. Brunson

Yes, It Matters

Good and right.
Right and good.
What does it matter?

It matters only
as it matters to you.

And matter it does
that you do what
is good and right,
and right and good,
in moments
where you find yourself
standing
in the middle
of presence,
with presence,
letting go.

About being right
it is not.
About doing good
it is not.

Being the truth
of who you are
guides the truth
of what you do.

Being,
and consistently holding
carefully and confidently
our humanness, together,
assures loving resonance.

Doing,
then placing such energy
in the flow,
unencumbered original self,
flows into generous freedom.

Good and right.
Right and good.
Does it really matter?

It matters really,
as it matters to you;
so it matters to us.

–J. Brunson

The Word

Saying it, the word
often we may not
but unfolding, the essence
often we must.

Something to be feigned, it is not
fingers placed quickly to lips
demanding never again to lie.

For another can patiently be
observing, as time together goes
trusting, the essence to manifest
accepting the word when spoken.

The word itself
used precisely, or not
just the same, felt
by giver
by receiver
when from truth it flows.

To make one’s mark
to leave an impression
to know you’ve made
an impact
this is the stuff
of treasure, true gold
found in the self
the self you are
founded on the reality
of who you are.

The word
yes, the essence
originates in, with
and from, this reality.

–J. Brunson

"Essence" by Anna Sabino

“Essence” by Anna Sabino

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

The Privilege

The privilege
of being true,
a meaning likely
best fitting
to the yearning
for freedom.

A day offered … each day
actually offered in much the same way;
a chance for presence,
the privilege of being true.

On this day,
in a context of presence,
privilege, upon writing the word,
suddenly, consciously,
includes me.

All of the journey,
all of my steps,
finds me thankful,
continually,
for the spirits I know,
the experience of each
securing the privilege.

The privilege
to know the I
that I am,
made this way,
for these steps,
for this path,
thankful I am
in Trueness.

–J. Brunson

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There are Birds There Too

If we stay
one place
too long,
debilitatingly comfortable
we become.

If we move
too quickly,
too soon,
coldly insensitive
we become.

Longer than anywhere
here I’ve been
where birds sing,
dawn to dark.
But longer still
I’ve journeyed
birdsong always present
of dove, lark.

A choice of control it is not
this next step of transformation,
but more a return
a natural necessity
to live without control.

Expectations hoarded
filters blinding,
never a path found.
Yet self freed
seeing and unfolding,
inner music will abound.

So on I go
to label no need
and on I trust,
privileged
in what I’ll see.

–J.Brunson

Photo by Teri Vickers Metts

Photo by Teri Vickers Metts