The Master’s Grace

About a week before the February seminar with Sri Gary, this poem came to me.  It’s one of those poems that after it has poured itself onto the pages of my journal, I get the sense it is not just for me. It is to be shared with others, with those who will understand it, and will see their own journeys reflected in it.  I give it to you, dear friends.

The Master’s Grace

Abide in Me, My dear
for I abide in you in every moment.

Come to Me
and I’ll give you all you’ve sought outside of yourself:
Love, companionship, joy,
peace, contentment,
and more than you can even imagine.

I know the part of you
that yearns for these gifts
and is tired of the struggles and disappointments.

I will still give you challenges,
which mind and emotions will want to interpret
as failures and tragedies.

Do not let them sway you from hearing My song–
which is your song, too.

All that has brought you pain in this life
is a precious gift from Me.
There is no other way
to find the true peace and joy you long for
than to know suffering
and surrender it all to Me.

Nothing else will truly comfort you.
Everything you use
to try to soothe the pain
will eventually leave you.

Only I
am always here
for the healing embrace you seek.

The glories I’ve promised
will be yours
as you mature in the constancy of this awareness.

I love you more than you can even fathom.
Come, drink your fill from this cup I offer.
Then drink some more.

I will never forsake you.

You are Mine, My dear,
and I have grand plans for you.

In His Bhakti,

The Gift

It is very healing for me to be able to share these poems with those of you who find your way here.  My son’s translation was the most pivotal event of my first couple years as a MasterPath student.  I posted two other poems this month honoring the profound journey of a mother’s loss:  The Birth of Faith, and Communion.

This poem came to me about two weeks after his death.  It came from a profound connection with the part of me that could see the bigger picture, and knew I needed to begin letting him go.

The Gift

His soul left me behind
that I might be cracked open,
exposing all the secret hiding places inside.

He knew he didn’t have to try
to fill the emptiness for me
any longer.

I don’t need him for that any more.
I have You, Beloved.

How can a mother feel this gratitude
for a son’s death?

Only because I recognize the gift
of turning me to You
for all the comfort, love, and connection
I thought I could have with him.

Come, Sweet Master.
I know you will seize this opportunity,
and fill all the places I have not let you into before.

There is no place within
that I am not ready to receive You.

I know of no greater gift
from one soul to another
than to crack the vessel of all illusion
so that the Saint can fill one to overflowing
with His bhakti.

in deepest gratitude I let you go,
trusting that your soul
and the Master’s love
will take you exactly where you need to go:

Perfection unfolding for soul’s liberation.

In deepest gratitude,

If I Could See What You See

If I could see what You see . . .

I often memorize a poem that has come to me in contemplation, and holds a sacred viewpoint I want to focus on.  The poem becomes a mantra, and sets a matrix for bringing the gifts bestowed in a spiritual experience into my daily life.  After a while, the entire poem may fade from memory, but a few lines remain deeply etched in my awareness.

This is the poem I’ve been most connected with lately.  It came to me on Christmas two years ago.  I’ve been reciting the beginning and ending lines frequently these days as the pre-seminar crucible heats up, challenging me to live from soul in the midst of lower world dramas.


If I could see what You see
wouldn’t my mind have to give it up?

There would be no need to ponder
the what if’s and wherefores,
to try to pick the best action
and right attitude
to keep me safe.

It would be so simple and so clear.

I could turn my attention to any circumstance
and immediately see beyond the veil
to the true cause
and the sacred purpose.

I would find that with a lot,
if not all,
of my dilemmas,
it does not matter what I choose,
but where I choose from.

Right, wrong
good, bad
like, hate
all become irrelevant.

Inner VisionI would make the decisions without a fuss
then get back to my true work
of harmonizing in greater and greater degree
with the glory of God within.

Meanwhile, my Lord,
I have You.

Help me to know, without a doubt,
Your will in any moment,

see clearly how to live it,
and let go of any attachment
other than You.



Ten days before my son died (7/16/2006), I wrote “Communion,” a poem that emerged from my morning spiritual contemplation.  I didn’t realize it at the time, of course, but later understood that this was a gift from the Master as He prepared me for the shock that would come so soon.  I offer it to you as another piece of the story I began when I shared “The Birth of Faith” earlier this month, and to honor the blessed journey of two souls moving through the karma they agreed to face together in this lifetime.

Up until this point, the poems that had come to me were filled with longing to experience the glories The Master promised were waiting for me.  I would get mere glimpses of what was being offered to me, enough to keep me striving for more, but not enough to fill me as deeply as I desired.  This poem, dated about a month after my Second Inititation, expresses a depth of spiritual connection I had not yet felt before.


I come to You,
open and eager,
embracing Your Presence,
surrendering my self to the vast stillness
in connection with all that is Divine.

You draw me to You.
I come as moth to a flame,
willing to die to anything I hold onto
that is in the way of this peace,
this love,
this answer to soul’s longings.

I receive You in Holy Communion,
tears welling up as Your love provides soothing balm
for the pain of separation.

Sweet one, You tell me,
We are never apart.
Your every desire is at its core
mere longing for the rapture
you experience in this moment of one-ness.

No separation.

Now imagine bringing this awareness
into everything you do.

Oh, Beloved.
To imagine such a life thrills me beyond compare.
I have never felt desire like this,
nor tasted the true fulfillment
that comes on the waves of Your love.

In gratitude I receive You.

Soul rejoices,
and sings of its eagerness
to be free.

In deepest gratitude,




For Sunny

Flower Children

Sunshine Benjamin Berger and me, 1973

This month is the 6th anniversary of my 35 year old son’s translation (death of the physical body) from a heroin overdose.    Even though I had come to the understanding years before that I could lose him to addiction, that didn’t temper the heartbreak when it occurred.  Only the Master could do that, and He carried me so lovingly through the experience that it is the one event that bonded me to the Path more than any other.  It is no coincidence, of course, that this occurred 6 weeks after my second Initiation.

Sunny working security at the homeless shelter

I feel very blessed that Sunny and I had five months together rebuilding and celebrating our relationship after his 2½ years in prison.  He lived at a homeless shelter that had a drug and alcohol program, and would come to spend Sunday afternoons to play cards and share a meal with me.  He eventually got kicked out of the shelter, came to stay with me, and I put him to work around the house for about a month. Our last words to each other were, “I love you,” and that has always brought me great comfort.

As always, he had big dreams of getting his life together, going to school, putting his past and the drugs behind him.  I know he truly wanted to change, and tried over and over to figure out how, but the power of addiction was more than he could overcome on his own.  He had no Higher Power he could turn to, and no way to heal from the wounds of his past.


I’m deeply grateful for the Master’s presence during my son’s time in prison, and those precious five months before he went off the deep end again.  I trust that He held Sunny in His hands, and made sure that his soul was delivered to the place where it would benefit the most.  He certainly held me in a way that I had never known before.

Here’s the poem that came this spring as I looked back on the experience, and prepared  for the anniversaries to come.

The Birth of Faith

You asked me to give You everything.
I gave You my son.

You asked me to rely on You unquestionably
as You delivered the loss.

You made sure I was
as ready as anyone could possibly be,
and then allowed Sunny to finish his story
in absolute perfection.

You taught me to trust
that You were guiding his crossing,
and helping to orchestrate his next story.

You held me
as the emotional body
moved through its shock and anguish.

You revealed to me,
and eventually I perceived,
that emotions are not who I AM.

You gave me a vision so vast
that I could comprehend
only one small fragment at a time.

When I am one with the whole of it,
I will know I am Home.

The vision healed me deeply.
It was the doorway to the next ascent,
and opened my third eye to a degree
that I still strive to live up to.

What lessons did I gain
in this tumultuous journey?

I learned that I had to choose
to rely on You,
to trust that You knew
exactly what I needed
and where I must travel.

I learned that the emotions
that had ruled my life for decades
were not a kind master.

They had led me over and over again
into mistaken conclusions
that would never bring me the happiness
I yearned for so deeply.

I learned that You
orchestrate my life in the perfection of intention
that I cannot yet do for myself.

My willingness to rely on You
became unshakable.

I learned that no matter how great the pain–
or the joy–
that every experience is imbued
with the sole purpose
of bringing me closer to You
and my true identity.

I learned
at a remarkably profound level
that I am not my emotions,
and that refusing to live that lie any longer
is the only path
to the liberation I long for.

Sunny’s translation was a moment of truth,
a crossroads
that required me to surrender
the assumptions that had shaped my life.

My gratitude
is a deep river within
that I enter often
to honor the birth of faith.

I look back on the dark times,
and see the breathtaking power
of Your love and guidance.

If I can get through the loss of my son
by relying on You,
I know without a doubt
You will walk me through
whatever it takes
to get me Home.

The emotional body cries in relief
that the pain of its struggle
to find my way
is over.

♥ ♥ ♥

For Mothers Day

This poem is in honor of Mothers, both inner and outer, and the love and devotion which urges us to grow into all of who we are.



A bud swells and opens,
unfurling in a rush
of sweet and tender beauty.

It expands to its fullest potential,
glorious in displaying its true nature,
opening to receive the life-giving caress of the sun,
drinking deeply of the earth’s sustenance.

In that moment of peak ripeness
the rose proclaims,
is what I am!”

Soon after, it begins to fade,
its life-force spent
as petals return to the soil.
All its energy is now intent
on ripening seeds
to insure there will be
another season of blooming.

The rose growing within me
also swells and unfurls.

It opens to the nurturing touch
of the Divine Current,
and drinks deeply
of the Blessed One’s devotion.

It pushes its way through
the junkyard of its physical abode,
reaching for the light that feeds it,
listening to the echo of its own true song.

This inner rose grows ever more glorious,
powerful in its certainty,
even while buffeted by the winds of karma,
and fettered by the limitations
of the physical body.

Here is the difference between these two flowerings:
The rose of soul
does not stop opening.

When carefully tended, protected, and encouraged,
it peaks in glorious ripeness.
Instead of fading,
it remains at that state of flowering,
a plateau of receptivity
and expression of its true self.

Before long,
the caress of the Divine Current
urges another, deeper opening,
and the rose unfurls more
to reveal petals
heretofore unseen
and unimagined:

One orgasmic flowering after another
with no decline,
no death in sight.

It is Your hand, Master
that tends this rose
and urges it into its own perfection,

reflecting the heart of bhakti
as it strives to merge
with All That Is.


Bhakit:  Spriritual Love
and Devotion

Happy Mothers Day.  In deepest gratitude,


This is Holy Week for so many people the world over that it came into my contemplations this morning.  I was feeling grateful for how blessed we are as chelas that every week is Holy Week, and that we can take Communion everyday in the temple within. It seems a fitting time to share this poem.


There is something that wells up within me
in the glory of a spring morning.

Bright colors emerge
from winter monochrome.

Hope sends out tender shoots
as promises of destiny
are read in sunlit petals.

I emerge from the quiet of winter’s haven
and know that my yearning to live truly
matches the unrelenting drive
contained within root and seed.

The Master has tended this garden all winter,
promoting growth
even in its dormancy,
and death even in its growth.

He sits back to watch the unfolding
as sun, water, and long warm days
urge potential into the manifest.

Is there any doubt as to the presence
of the Divine Hand
as I witness all of creation
reflected in the face of a jonquil?

How will I express
my own flowering this season?
What new aspect of soul’s truth
will outshine yesterday’s now-dead growth?

I eagerly watch
to see how You will shape this ripening,
as I train vine to trellis
and commit seed to fertile ground.

In the glory of a spring morning
You show me that I will live from soul
as inevitably as bloom emerges from bulb.

And that
is really
all I need to know.

May the Master’s voice announce the resurrection of soul to all who yearn for His Miracles.

The Threshold

This journey often feels to me like a series of hard-won breakthroughs. Each ascension comes as a result of facing the ways I keep myself small, and asking the Master to help me lay down the old patterns and attachments that feed my limited viewpoint.

At other times, I am amazed at how gently and easily the expansion occurs.  Of course that perspective comes only when I give up mind’s insistence that it can keep me safe, and turn to Him instead.

Two years ago The Master gifted me with this poem, to help me understand the rhythm and pacing of the journey.

The Threshold

In the depths of my yearning,
I come to You, My lord.

I stop listening to the mind,
feel Your Presence,
and sense the vast universe inside.

I stand at its edge
aware of the grandeur that stretches out forever.
What keeps me from jumping in
and riding the currents
moving through this universe?

Mind cannot stand the thought
of losing control,
and brings me back over and over again.

Actually, mind is quite fascinated
by the glories even it can admit await us,
but will not abide the stillness required
to venture further into the sacred realms.

It gets anxious
and begins to thrash around,
looking for the safety and comfort
of its known arena.

Only brief forays will it allow.

But the call from within
is strong and enticing.
Promises of the ultimate safety
and the eternal homecoming
are enough to keep me striving
to suspend mind’s distractions.

I want to ride these currents, Beloved,
to dance, to soar,
and immerse awareness in the holy universe,

to let go of mind’s hold
on all it thinks is real and immediate,
and take the hand You graciously offer.

On my own,
I come to the threshold
from which I can only imagine
the wonders awaiting me.

I must let you lead the way.

You are my Sherpa,
my Sustainer and Redeemer.

You watch to see how I fare,
determine when I am ready for the next ascent,
and show me what I must leave behind.

It is by Your merciful grace
that I even sense
what I truly yearn for.

It is Your love
that ignites my devotion
and carries me Home.

Many Blessings,

‘Tis a Done Deal

'Tis a done dealA one-time mentor of mine told me about growing up among midwest farmers and watching them interact in the community.  He described how they would make a verbal agreement with each other with the words “‘Tis a done deal.”  Their word was golden, and if they said they would do something, it got done.

A friend and I were contemplating that phrase together last week, and this poem came to me the next morning.

‘Tis a Done Deal

Why fret about anything, Beloved,
if You hold the reins?

Every moment of worry
merely states
that I don’t trust You to know the course
and steer truly.

Questions and doubts
are mind’s attempts
to take back the reins,

to insist on knowing the destination
so it can strap on its gear
and tromp off down the path in certitude.

Until the next fear arises, that is.

Then off goes the mind,
fretting, questioning,
playing endless scenarios on its movie screen,
until it chooses one
and tromps off again.

The futility
and waste of precious attention
astound me.

You have shown me,
time after time,
the serenity
in letting the worries fall away
as I accept the ride You offer.

The course is laid out from here to eternity.
I can’t yet see it,
but You know it well.

I hand You the reins,
You look me in the eye, and say,

“‘Tis a done deal!”

"The course is laid out from here to eternity."

In His mercy and grace,

Yellow is the Color


Yellow is the color
of a bright spring day.

Daffodils sing to me
as soul joins in harmonies
of exuberance and delight.

Sky as blue as Bachelor Buttons
provides a stunning backdrop
as spring reveals her new wardrobe.

Green pushes through
the brown of last year’s foliage,
insistent in its intention
to express its beingness.

Red buds on stems
that only appear lifeless
whisper of glories yet to be realized.

Spring marches on
urging each plant to fulfill its destiny.

The power and certainty
of the evolution
cannot be denied,

Nor can the drive to be who I AM
be halted.

You are the bright spring sunshine
to my soul
as it pushes against dead dreams
and seeks your warmth.

Your bhakti is the water
with which I slake my thirst.

The visions you activate
are the sky-blue backdrop
for the tender new awareness
You coax from me.

I strive to bring forth all of who I AM
with the power and inevitability
I see reflected in the yellow
of this bright spring day.


May you use the energy of the season to bring you ever closer to the Master and your true self.  In His precious love,