Tip of the Iceberg

Tip of  the Iceberg

Look beyond the large chunk of ice you see
 floating on the surface
of your mind's idea of life.
As  you stare at it from your bobbing perch
with binoculars fastened so tightly 
over  the eyes on your face 
...still the only tool of vision
you are familiar with...
be in awe of what your senses reveal.  
Watch in amazement as diamonds
of sparkling light are reflected off its crevices;
breathe in its fresh crisp presence 
carried on the salty breeze to you;
notice as its tiny icy fingers
reach out over the watery distance
to caress your skin making
your entire being tingle with chill.

Appreciate  its beauty and its grandness,
its spectacular magnificence,
but
do not assume this
surface phenomenon is the whole.
Question the possibility that there is more
beneath the murky waves
below what you can see,
touch or know with this  mind
that creates a shimmering, moving filter
between you
and the deeper beingness
of every thing.

If you could see below
into the depth of this infinite ocean
maybe...just maybe...
you would realize that what the eye sees 
is only 10 percent
of all that is.
Below this tiny peak is the mountain,
much greater, much grander than
that which the conditioned mind
allows us to perceive.

Wonder over that possibility
as you hold your breath in awe
upon  observing this amazing tip.
Then close your eyes,
breathe in deeply  
and observe the entire iceberg
that is you.

Dale-Lyn April 2020

Man I am definitely on a poetry kick and I don't know why. I do not consider myself a poet like I consider Wordsworth, Dickinson, Coleridge to be poets ( yeah...I like the romantics). I do not, by any means, compare myself to Tagore or Rumi or Gibran in the way they were able to translate their spiritual quests into poetic verse. I am not a Milton and have not received divine word by word guidance during my sleep to write epic poetry like Paradise Lost. I am not confident or comfortable as a poet...far from it.  I feel the poems I write leave me more vulnerable and exposed than anything else I do. My shamer ego always comes in at some point to critique and chastise my poems, more than it does anything else I write. That is why for decades I have shown my poetry to very, very few people and I never submitted for publication until very recently  Yet here I am popping up poem after poem  on this blog site. Why?

It is beyond me...as kooky as that may make me sound.  It is beyond me.  I am not writing these as much as they are coming through me and if they come through me here, I publish the post...no matter what Shamer has to say. I know without doubt that I am being taught something with every poem I write.  This higher Self, this muse, this One consciousness, Divine intervention...whatever you want to call It...answers my questions through poetry. It is an amazing and beautiful process that I do not understand too clearly and maybe I do not have to.  I just have to stay open...heart and mind wise.

I meditated today, and I asked like I always ask...what can I do to serve best at this time, any time.  What usually come sup automatically when I do that is "write!"  I never know for sure if that is just my ego throwing in a few ideas or spirit but it is such an answer that I know it comes from a higher place too.  Well the last few times I asked that question. "Write"... came up followed by "poetry".  And I was like..."Ahhh...not poetry!!! " Of course...I only resisted for a slight moment and then I happily accepted the offer.

So here I am...writing poetry.  :)

I was listening to Anita Moorjani this morning and she was talking about this ice berg analogy and I knew that a poem was going to come out of it.  Hmmm! I cannot seem to find the video I listened to at this point to cite it...I will get it and post it when I can.

All is well!