Bodhisattva Meditation Poem by Alla Bozarth

Are you tired, Friend?
So tired you have forgotten
nearly every automatic habit
that tells you who you are
and how to move from one moment
to the next? Forgotten
how you write your name
or hold your comb or spoon?
Forgotten how to use a pen
or play your musical instrument?
How did this happen!

You let your life pour out of you
without taking time to refuel.
We forget how the body changes
and has new needs each day.
In a moment of exhaustion
you became even more overly responsible
and failed at the simplest thing.
In weakness we forget mercy.
Gently, now – make merciful revisions
of everything — your shopping list,
your daily chores, even the pleasures
which have sadly become a burden to you.
Make more room.

Take more time.
Don’t vacate your own home or your garden —
vacate the world from your schedule!
Give it back to itself and take back your life
with interest from this tremendous investment.
Be satisfied with your work and move on.
Learn new rhythms. Take your own time.

Take all you want. Take decades. Take a day.
Pace yourself lovingly.
Practice the efficacy of effortlessness.
Draw to you only what you love
and truly need, like a diamond magnet.

Feel how holy the Mother Earthbody is
through your slowed-down soles.
See the countless soulflames flare out
from every being you now meet.
Do you see how these strangers now
coming to you quietly are soulkin?
Breathe again!

Are you broken?
Very well, then.
Become once more
the light you are,
generous, a gift to all
in living color —

Shine forth
in rainbow blessing
through love’s shattering
prism, love’s listening
tears. In love, you never know
the difference between compassionate
sorrow and bliss. Intimate
with each other, pain leads
through love to growth
and new reverence for the mystery.

Then, whether through
service or bliss, let love
restore you.

There is the service of receiving
as well as the bliss of giving,
and the service of giving
as well as the bliss of receiving.
Finally, it does not matter
which comes when, only that you
have known it all.
So love gathers itself together
into a single radiance again,
and the maddening joy of being human
becomes part of the white fire of God.

This poem is in the book, The Book of Bliss
by Alla Renée Bozarth, iUniverse 2011. All rights reserved.