There are days
when the world streams past
like a horde of satiated ghosts
rushing out the back door
of the auditorium–
the show here is over–!
headed to their various ports of entry
before they close.
There’s the empty light socket
in the train station in Dover
that crackles and hisses
between 2 and 4 AM,
and the crook of an oak tree
that’s open for the crescent moon.
It never even knew, of course,
the event was in progress.
They’re strange, these days.
Nothing is bolted down.
A cow flies past.
The sky rings out with sound.
Welders congregate on the docks.
Speeches are offered up on the third floor,
because the first and second are abandoned.
There is a great deal of mulling about,
each in the relative safety
of his or her own mind.
A quagmire evaporates,
then fills back up with questions
no one should ever have to answer.
Then a cow flies past–
yes, the very same.
In the morning,
before the wind picks up,
you can see how every star is an opening
in the blanket covering the world.
If we were closer to the fabric,
the openings would seem proportionately larger,
and we could slip through the netting,
like business travelers.
Always going, but not for good reason.
Just because.
Because events conspire to happen.
Because we live.
And Life asks this of us.
What use is a compass
in a territory that is always
washing away,
turning inside out,
shifting time signatures,
and changing shape?
Our hearts are not for navigating,
but for holding still.
What’s happening mostly eludes us.
Stillness is the residue
of an ancient magnetism
the ghosts whisk through,
causing the safety of our minds
to blur into sheets of dreams.
That cow just flew past again.
I’ve stopped wondering what it means.
Waving hello is so much more genuine.
Embracing Forever 
My dear friend,
This is beautiful in more ways than I can express. It felt like I was melting through the words. It was like a deep warm hug from the universe – and I needed it very much.
So much gratitude for your light and talent, Michael.
Sat Nam,
Allison
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Thank you, Allison!
I’m glad you found a restorative tonic here, in these words that sneaked into place when– for a moment– I was holding still… Gratitude for the light and love you share as well, Allison.
Peace
Michael
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Hey Michael ( aka modern day Rumi)
Stillness is the residue
of an ancient magnetism
the ghosts whisk through,
causing the safety of our minds
to blur into sheets of dreams.
YEAH! 😀 😀 😀
that’s all she wrote.
peace, Linda
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Thank you, Linda.
Those were some of my favorite moments in this one, too. Life has been that way of late– like someone picked up the snow globe world in which we live and gave it a good, swirly shake. Many things are flying past. It’s like the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade out there!
Much Love
Michael
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I Think I know that very cow!! 😉 It seems you are in the middle of it…but I also sense that you are taking care of you…and that’s a good thing!! Hang in there…oh…and the next time the cow swings by…give em a nod for me! ♡♡
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Yes, Lorrie, I’m along for the ride but enjoying the view… 🙂
I’ll say hello to the passers-by and have them bring a message or two your way. One of the good things about a passing storm is that it wipes away the old ruts and tracks, and often leaves in its wake powerful new possibilities. I think sometimes passing through an oculus too narrow for our inflated thought-structures to follow is a good thing– leaving us open and free…
Peace
Michael
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Received, my friend!!! ❤ ❤
Thank you…the storm has cleared and I am left with right thinking…and with a faith so strong I feel only love billowing out from my soul!!! Have a splendid Sunday, Michael. I hope you will have some time for you and your loved ones to marvel at life!!! Blessitude ❤
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What use is a compass… So true Michael… The stillness is to be found right within us…the problem is we don’t realise that is the destination. Beautiful writing as always.
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Thank you, Rajani. Yes, even though we know it we are easily distracted by something glimmering “out there.” It takes a few trips There and Back Again to realize the sublime beauty of our own hearts. I look forward to getting caught up on your page again soon…
Blessings
Michael
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Whimsical. Magical. Whole heartedly true!
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Thank you, Shailie! From a purveyor of such fine magic, this is much appreciated…
(Hope your journey to bring Dani to life in the hearts of young imaginations is going well!)
Peace
Michael
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We’ve no idea what is happening: events in the world just keeps getting odder and odder:
‘They’re strange, these days.
Nothing is bolted down.
A cow flies past.
. . . .
That cow just flew past again.
I’ve stopped wondering what it means.’
And yet still there is meaning and honesty to be found:
‘Waving hello is so much more genuine.’
Thanks as always Michael for your clear-eyed understanding of what is essential.
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Thank you, Don. You’re words here about the events of the world, written a few days ago, seem prescient now. Some very strange cows flying past indeed… Hard to wave hello even. More than ever it seems events compel us to find the anchor within that can tether us from drifting too far along the currents of meaninglessness, uncertainty, and doubt… There is meaning only in making the connection– waving hello from heart to heart…
Much Love
Michael
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And life has it’s way with us whether we get it or not 🙂
Nothing’s bolted down – so true.
Just this. Just be here now. It’s all we can do. Oh, and wave at the cow as it flies by.
love, Alison
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Life has the last word… it would certainly seem so, for as long as we are convinced we are separate from the flow of movement and energy we call “Life”, no? For me this waving is the moment of dismantling this distance, and recognizing the unity of it all, so that what is happening is precisely the thing that is desired, needed, given and received. With that type of commitment, being here now becomes so rich…
Blessings and Love
Michael
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Listening to a little Isaac Shapiro and waving at the cow 🙂
A. xox
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Nice…! I will have to look up Isaac Shapiro when I am back into a more “normal” routine… 🙂
Peace
Michael
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somedays
the cow,
somedays
the moon.
for now,
waving
at whoever
appears in
the mirror 🙂
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❤
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There is always a gentle wisdom in your words, David. You’re right– I think we must wave at whoever appears, and welcome him or her home… remembering all of it is in some way a mirror…
Peace
Michael
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I couldn’t help but imagine the cow in the scene from “The Wizard of Oz”. Beautifully written! Say hey, to the cow, for me 🙂
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Hello Dorinda,
I was thinking of the very same scene while working on this one… It is funny the memories and images that surface while writing. Thank you for the kind words, and I very much enjoyed reading your interview over at booknvolume.
Peace
Michael
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Funny how cows always remind me of Dorothy 🙂 Thank you stopping by to read the interview. Have a blessed Sunday
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Thank you Michael, I’m so glad about the satiated ghosts leaving, for me there’s a feeling of old iron steel and a grey-green metallic grey about this one, ropes and hessian and polished wood, could be old sailing ships moored in harbour – if it weren’t for the cow and the sky that rings out with sound. Ordinary reality invaded by something too strange to believe; magic realism, fabulism, amazing to behold…
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Thank you, Tirmait. I much enjoyed the images you gave in your response here. We share an amazement in the way ordinary reality is invaded by a strange dynamic we can’t quite parse, giving rise to old ships in harbour, and skies ringing with sound, and moments when only one branch is waving in the breeze, while the others nearby remain still… This loving madness is leaking into the world from points all around us…
Blessings
Michael
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I imagine a Salvador Dali movement to the shifting of life, yet the cow keeps spinning by, perhaps an accidental tourist dropping by, wave and say hi for me. Always, K
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Hi Kim,
The cows, the trucks, the smiles, the questions… they all keep spinning by… Thanks for dropping by. Always greatly appreciated! I am waving hello to you– you who have emerged from the ever-swirling dreamscape of the present to say hello to me… 🙂
Blessings
Michael
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I am the black and white striped one…they make half and half you know….hello friend, missing you in my days but still delving into my studies so to speak….miracles waiting, as you are one in my life, sent to remind me of truth and the process of now unlearning and finding the joy of all.
K
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Hi Kim,
I’m missing our exchanges also. Your words here warm me greatly and it is hard to express the meaning that passes between us in words… There is so much joy to be found in recovering authenticity, through our various pathways of unlearning, but none are more joyous than re-discovering one another…
Michael
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I am doing something for me which is unheard of. I am actually underlining passages in my manual. So un me but they are pages and if I had to dog ear the pages that struck me as must ponder and absorb like a universal little sponge, my fingers would fall off trying to bend them down. It wouldn’t be such a beautiful manual anymore so I instead picked up a pen and very gently, underlined the passages. I hope all is well in your work which carried you from your splendid passages and I know you will gather thoughts in your memory basket and create new loveliness out of each one, giving it your particular enchanting meaning that we know below the surface, we all see and feel the same. Peace and blessings my friend, K
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Fantastic! I mean really fantastic as in the fantasy that we could ever know and understand everything. Who’s to say the cows haven’t been flying by all this time and we’re just starting to notice? And, is that a bad thing?
I’ve noticed that when I’m in the middle of some big learning or expansion, many things seem surreal. Faces come out of the rain. Soon enough, the pieces come together in a way that I and then others notice.
Enjoy the ride!
Vincent
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Hi Vincent,
Thanks for the wise view of things here… I resonate with your description of the way things are torn down and rebuilt, and how it feels to be along for the ride. I am enjoying the process of being neither here nor there, and discovering the cows have long been flying past… 🙂
We live surrounded by beauty and possibility, and too often our awareness of this pales into a series of strange confrontations between the routine and the unexpected…
Peace!
Michael
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. . . and they didn’t even wave. 🙄
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I know it… A little too shocked by the obvious, weren’t they? It is a really interesting dramatized version of what I see happening all the time… Day after day we expect what was anticipated to materialize in conformance to our prognostication, and when it doesn’t we are stunned. A great thing about my present assignment is seeing the swiftness with which problems (delays in the sequence) materialize and then are resolved. The resolution is often very straightforward, once the many voices wondering how this could have happened eventually soften… Without worry of who to blame, or who pays for it, or what the implications are of events that have already passed, there would be time for a bit of joyous waving at the flying cow events!
I’m a little worried for the cow, though… 🙂
Peace
Michael
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“. . . we expect what was anticipated to materialize. . .”
Too true. I just went to do some shopping and a poor old boy just dropped dead at the bakery counter; not that I had anticipated it of course, but simply that the fellow will just have thought he was off to get a loaf and a few things, before returning to watch the game, or whatever.
Apologies for just posting a video comment previously my friend; I was a little lost for words at the time, which sometimes can happen to me in response to poetry. My subjective response is nearly always one of feeling rather than idea; although I usually manage to conjure some words to your own offerings.
I hope your assignment is going well and not throwing too many cows into the air for you; I daresay you shall be milking them for future poetic offerings here in any case. If you are pushed for time, which I imagine you to be, please feel no compulsion to respond – nothing is moo(t) here.
Take care my friend,
Hariod.
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Sounds like reality is turning instable when you write about cows flying by. Wonderful. I can relate to that. I think the universe conspires to have our belief systems shaken.
Waving Hello,
Karin
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I think so too, Karin. Wonderful, heady times are upon us when routine is taken from us, and we are left to confront the unexpected on a daily basis!
I am waving right back!
Much Love
Michael
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Love it, love it, love it! The last two lines are my favorite. Beautiful work again, Michael!
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Thank you very much, Sarah! Always a joy to know you have dropped by to wave hello. Hope all is well on your end.
Blessings
Michael
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Ah, the stillness of seeing the crescent moon through the crook in the oak tree, and noticing that each star is an opening.
Another incredibly great poem, Michael. You continue to astound me…in a really good way.
Love to you, dear man.
Mary
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Thank you very much, Mary. You pick up on particular images in ways that suggest they carry a similar feeling for you. Perhaps when we get right down to it, these images are part of our human connection– each-to-each. When we rest in nature, and we observe, we see how particular relationships wax and wane, how they carry one another and lead to both flowering and dissolution. It is a great joy to share this hidden language, Mary.
Love to you, too–
Michael
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Such a feast of words, Michael. The world is full of peculiar portent these days. Waving hello is the only thing we can do when translation is impossible. Stars as gateways…I’ve felt this way, too.
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Hi Julie,
The world is indeed full of peculiar portent. I’m certainly reduced to wordless states on a regular basis. Poetry feels to me like the twilight of language and wordlessness… 🙂
Good to share a moment peeking through the blanket, into the hearts of stars…
Peace
Michael
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Michael,
Your writing always feels like I’ve never left, and that I can’t leave, and neither can anyone else, because… because poetry is ❤ Hello! 🙂
Ka
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Hello Ka!
Thanks for the wave. So good to see you sail past! The sense of not leaving warms my heart, as I think that is how it is when we’ve made heartfelt connections… We simply pick up where we left off, whenever we meet… Such a joy!
Until our next orbital encounter!
Peace
Michael
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It’s like coming here to rest in the quietness, being aware of my own presence in the world when life happens by and it’s getting louder… A cow… Of all things… I must take a conscious breathe and relax and enjoy… The cow… Magnificent space, thankyou Michael, barbara X
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Ha! Thank you, Barbara!
Taking a conscious breath within the flurry of activity is such a stabilizing device, isn’t it? It’s like an in-rush of spirit– an infusion of balance and possibility. Thank you for sharing this space with me, Barbara!
Peace
Michael
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Namaste…
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Tossing a nerf football your way, always handy for strange days and ways out, peace, Harlon
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Love those old Nerf footballs, Harlon! They conjure memories of simpler times– dashing through the autumn air to catch a pass– when all awareness coalesced into motion, desire and daring… A Nerf ball is indeed a welcome addition to swiftly spinning days…
Thanks for the gift of simplicity shared…
Peace
Michael
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I wonder about the Welders, are they sore all over from their craft?, as most blue collar workers are, do they resent the dudes with white collars and pay checks that they scoff off with that are the equivalent of 10 years pay for the Welders, that the speakers make in 1 day?
I’m deeply aware of the ultimate reality and conventional reality, therefore, I don’t wave at cows flying by unless no one is watching (doing that puts on in danger of the men in white coats, who never heard of Hafiz and Rumi, and if they did, it was an intellectual distraction to be seen as shiek and hip, but they never got the essence or they would know about conventional reality and ultimate reality, thus, heal people instead of drug them into submission to societie’s rat in a cage — shop till you drop, and post selfies without a second thought).
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Hi Genie,
Well, I am happy to report that in this case the welders are a gregarious band of persons who are conscientious about their craft, hard-working, and respectful. My life has been enriched from spending a bit of time with them, though, to your point about picking your time and place, I have yet to bust into recitations of ecstatic poetry… 🙂
Peace
Michael
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” They’re strange these days ” ….Michael , I feel wrapped in that ” blanket covering the world ” and feel the light of those stars while experiencing the sublime message of your poetry ….I love your work so much that sometimes I fear reading it when you first post it ….fear meaning great beauty that makes my heart ache ….love , megxxx
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Hi Meg,
You description of heart-aching beauty is very apropos to how I feel about your own writing. Thanks for sharing such a full-hearted reply… I think we are together somehow the mirror image of those stars, and it is only in seeing the constellations and how our creative yearnings fill the sky together that true meaning emerges…
Much Love and Happy Thanksgiving!
Michael
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It seems as if the world is full of flying cattle at the moment Michael, so I often take my heart to task and hold it still, in the silence.. for sometimes there are not the words to speak..
A thought provoking piece my friend..
Blessings Sue
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Hi Sue,
There are rarely the words to speak…! You are right there… Lots of cows flying by here, too. I’m glad you enjoyed this piece, and thank you for making a visit here. I look forward to catching up at your place as time permits… Need to wait for the cows to touch down! Ha!
Peace
Michael
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