If I could spend a weekend with the me
who used to be, I wouldn’t waste a minute
dispensing admonitions bound to be
unheard instead of boldly living in it.
I’d load me, bag and baggage, in the car
blindfolded, like a hostage – scared, unwilling
to see the wonder in the way we are
and take a trip abundantly fulfilling.
Awaking to the pungent pull of pines
with senses bathed in joyous morning glitters,
I’d hold my hand to swing between the vines
and join the chorus of the woodland critters.
For only in immersion at the core,
dissolving all the filters of resistance,
can unreserved relinquishment restore
the nature of divinity’s existence.
Alert to every scent and sound, aware
of all within our mental jurisdiction,
no leaf is left unfluttered nor a hair
unsplit in separating fact from fiction.
So, guided by example, having flown
the strictures of illusion that have driven
my younger self within, I’d say, “You’re known
and loved for what you’ve always been: forgiven.”
Mary Boren, 2014
I had an energizing dream about a peaceful morning
when everyone alive awakes renewed.
The air is pure, the water clean, no hint of global warming,
and no one lacks for shelter, clothes, or food.
The planet is awash with gratitude.
What happened to the weary world and all its weight of sorrow?
What monumental, unforeseen event
could render feuds forgotten as an ominous tomorrow
became today? By mutual assent,
nobody even wonders where it went.
But as the dreamer, watching from a cloud at twelve-eleven,
I saw exactly how the shift occurred.
It’s not like everybody had to die to go to heaven.
The earth turned upside down, imbalance blurred,
and in that moment, inner vision stirred.
So now it’s spring in Perth and autumn in the Rocky Mountains.
Affluence is devalued, hope annealed.
As fear is toppled to the bottom, overflowing fountains
of love ascend to trump the sword and shield.
The veil has lifted; heaven is revealed.
Mary Boren, 2011
I have fulfilled my purpose
when I cease to wonder …
Why am I here?
Am I doing this right?
What does tomorrow hold?
… when I can sit in stillness
and lose all sense of self in …
the song of a wren,
the rustle of leaves,
and the colors of sunrise.
I have reached the fullest expression
of human experience
when I can …
and let go of everything.
I have not been suspended in a body
to learn, grow, excel, repent, or conquer.
My sole purpose in this incarnation is simply …
to wake up.
Mary Boren, 2011
Deep within the hidden country,
down a road nobody knows,
lined in shades of mystic colors,
violets and indigos,
stands the bridge that spans a distance
wider than the river flows.
Can you read the cryptic marker?
Do you wonder where it goes?
Only audible in stillness
comes the summons, “Take my hand;
we will cross together.” Choices
dance around illusion’s strand.
Quickening, yet not awakened,
shedding scents of La La Land,
on the cusp of Dreamed & Doing,
step into the ampersand.
Mary Boren, 2006