Prayers and Love…

This is for New Zealand … and for Christchurch

 

burning candles, like a heart

 

New Zealand, you are loved. Stay safe, stay strong, stay calm.

 

At this time of great challenge and utterly senseless violence, our prayers and love are with you. Each and every one of you. No one in our world should have to experience what you are going through today. Such violence and hatred have no place in a loving world.

And it is a loving world that we commit ourselves to even more today.

New Zealand is one of the most beautiful caring places I have had the privilege of spending time in. Its people are funny and generous and kind. Some are friends who I hold dear. It is one of those special places on our planet that still carries within the very fabric of its earth and air, a sense of wonder and possibility. Its stories are both ancient and young.

That such violence has happened in Aotearoa, The Land of the Long White Cloud, saddens me greatly.

 

May angels of love and light guide your way and help you heal … each and every one of you.

 

Kia Ora – Kia Kaha

You are loved, New Zealand. You are loved.

 

 

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The Man and The Angel

*This wee story looks long but it really isn’t, so hang in there. And thanks for that!

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The Man and The Angel                                        By: Aliana Alani ©2016

The man and the angel were sitting on the fence drinking tea. The kind that helps you see more clearly. The man thought it was your everyday ordinary black tea. The angel knew otherwise.  They were sitting on a lovely stone fence, the kind with rocks and moss and tiny pretty flowers peeking out. It was a grand day. A day of sunlight upon green grasses. One could almost say that it was magical. Not a dark cloud in the sky.

The angel hovered in thought, picking his moment. The man waited. He could feel something coming. After all, they’d had these chats before.

“It’s a grand day.” The angel said, stating the obvious.

“Aye, it is.”

“You’re fond of grand days, are you not?”

“I am.”

“It would be a shame for that to change.” The angel threw that out gently.

The man fussed a little within. He didn’t take much to round-about conversations. “And why, for the love of God, would that change? Other than your occasional storm, that is.”

The angel let out a sigh. “The words of the world are spinning into a great tempest, my friend. Soon all the ranting and raging will erupt like an angry volcano. What will happen then will depend largely on what happens now.”

“You’re talking in riddles again.”

“Then I’ll be direct.” The angel smiled. The man nodded, though he inwardly knew it was highly probable that he was not going to like what was to be said at all at all. “You didn’t come here for this – all this fighting and fuming, this destroying of things.”

“I thought you said we came here to learn.”

“You did. But you came here to remember who you are more. Besides, do you not think you’ve learned about destruction enough?  It would seem to us that you acquired a PhD in it lifetimes ago. All you’re doing now is circling the wagons of remembering. What’s to learn in that?”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“Am I? Even if I was,” the angel sighed again, “the point is this – you’re running out of time. You must come home to your true being now. You came to this exquisite planet to participate in all of its beauty, not destroy it, so that you could open to the garden of life that exists within yourself and all creation, and in so doing, dare to dive into the deepest caverns of your own heart so that you would know, beyond question or doubt, that you, YOU, my friend, are indeed divine love incarnate.”

Your man blushed. “Aye, well I wouldn’t go that far. I’m a fair enough lover, I’ll grant you that, but…”

“You know what I’m saying.

The man nodded. “And if we dive into that deep heart? What then?”

The angel smiled. “Then you’re home – wherever you are.”

The man swirled that one around in his mind. “Will it really make a difference?”

“It will to you.”

He grinned. “And what happens to one happens to all.”

The angel looked him straight in the eye. “You could say that.”

The man thought about it for a moment, feeling the impact of the angel’s gaze, then he took a colossally deep breath and popped down off the fence, straightening his jacket as he landed, as if he was about to meet God Himself. “Right then, I’ll give it a go.” He paused, turned to the angel. “But you’d best hang around for awhile – to make sure I get it right.”

“As you wish.”

With that, they sauntered together, the man and the angel, with a glint and a laugh, into the light of the green grasses and the soft air of tomorrow today.

For everyone from Fort McMurray

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Wherever you are at the moment, stay safe – and know that our prayers are with you. May angels guide you during this difficult time.

SEPARATE NOT…

by Aliana Alani ©2015

Do not think that because I appear to have little,
I am without power.

Gods walk amongst you every day and do not speak
of who they are.

Neither make assumptions that the homeless one before you
is not an angel in disguise.

For angels come when called but sometimes in the most
unexpected garb.

And those who journey cradled in the arms of war-weary parents –
young, just beginning?

They too are your brothers and sisters, though you know not
yet their names.

So separate not, nor limit, within the cloisters of your mind
and heart.

For the God in each does work in mysterious, oft times
variable ways.

The Buddha walks with you.
The Christos is within.
God is everywhere.

You are home, if you know that.
You are everywhere and you are Love,
if you know that.

If you live that.

This I know…

THIS I KNOW…  

©Aliana Alani 2015

As we search for wings we once had,
Trudging along dust-filled roads,
Hoping for rose petals in unlikely places,

As we scan pristine skies for long-needed rain,
Picking the bones of ancestors,
Sweeping the streets clean of the tears of hunger and war,

As we dare to dream or desire,
To rise up or to care,

It comes to this –

There is only room for love now.
We only have room for love.

ARE YOU NOT TIRED?

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            ©Aliana Alani 2015     

Unlike many of my writings here, this is more Dylan Thomas than Rumi – but there are things that must be said, words that must be spoken.  

  

I

Are you not tired of battle? I am.

This constant feeding on the life force of others
Till even young bones dry and crumble into dust
And winds lament their passing like banshee cries across the lands.
To what end? For what purpose?

Think you immortality lies within the reach of those
Who trample o’er the souls of others? If so, think again.
Or has this thirst turned so insatiable that friend and foe alike
Become but mere morsels for the next feed?

When is enough, enough?

It matters not what name you give this.
What righteous path you cast its fate along.
Light or dark, it is all the same.
Devoid of love, we are all nothing!

Can you not understand?

II

You plant your flag within the halls of Mount Olympus
Expecting adulation in return. To you, it is but one of many.
But you forget. You lack remembrance.
Therein, perhaps, lies your folly.

So let me help. Let me be blunt.

There are gods and angels who walk amongst the living
Cloaked in skins of a mortal kind. Some appear tattered,
Even wounded, for the journey has been long, nay even arduous.
Still they are present, perhaps, yes even especially, in those very halls
And they are not happy.
They wait, but not for long.

What will you do next, they wonder?
What foolish blunder? What further desecration –
Before you awake and realize?

III

Occasionally one will dust off those weary wings, flutter and fly.
Winds will change, and for a brief moment,
Love will enter the now toxic air.

A sigh of hope is heard within the hearts of many.
But it does not last.
It cannot be sustained.
Not yet.

Ask me why. Oh. Please. Do.

IV

There is a fabric that holds this universe together.
An ancient warp and woof of life.
No cotton this. Not even silk or satin.
No, this is the stuff that hearts are made of,
That travels pathways of geometric harmonics
Lighting galaxies as it spews forth in all its splendour.

It is unstoppable, of course
Unavoidable, actually
Undeniable –
But still you try.

To usurp it is impossible,
A flight of fantasy on your part.
It belongs to all, permeates all, is all.
It is not yours to hoard or blunder –
But still, amazingly, you try.

Are you not tired yet?!

So here’s the irony, the paradox, the problem.
Put simply for you to understand –
What you do blocks the very field of energetic awareness
That sustains your, yes your, very own existence.

You have created a game that is a self-fulfilling prophecy
In which you are doomed to be no more.
You do not know this yet, so you continue,
Like unfed vultures, to merrily feast
Upon the dreams and hopes of others.

If it were just about you,
You would be left to your own devices.
But sadly, it is not so.

You think you can act with impunity
But, once again, you do not remember.
You lack vision, foresight. You do not see the larger picture.
You harm one. You harm all.

And so, ultimately, it cannot be allowed.

V

Understand this –

Unborn dreams are fragile things.
Like hopes, they reside in the realm of etheric mist.
Some say they are the prodding of angels
Whispered gently into an open heart.

What matters is this – to come into being,
They must be nourished, nurtured, loved.

Each spins a slender thread of woven gold
Linking it to the core of all. Invisible to the naked eye,
Unknown to many, they crisscross galaxies.
There are zillions of them.

To the enlightened among you
They are the geometries of existence.
To us, they are the song lines of the eternal heart.

So here’s the rub –

When you repeatedly force a people to its knees
Pushing spirits into the bog of existence
Until they can barely remember their own names
You poke holes in the chrysalis of their dreaming.
You weaken those very threads.
You damage the song lines.

Song lines are the royalty of life from which worlds are born.

If any should break, connected to your doing, you will be held responsible.
That, lest you forgot, is the hidden addendum to the codex of the contract
You eagerly signed when you initiated the Game you were so thirsty to play
(A game, I hasten to remind you, that was meant to enhance not devastate).
You, of all, should appreciate the irony of this.

So I ask again – Are you not tired of it yet?
WE ARE.

VI

There is, of course, a key to redemption – there is always a key.
But you will have to use it well and you will have to use it quickly
For you are running out of time (does this sound familiar?).
Let me offer a clue –

All things are born from the heart
And to the heart all things return

The key, like all keys before and after, has a name.
This key’s name happens to be Compassion.
Not your every day garden variety kind.
NO, only pure unadulterated unconditional open-hearted
Compassion will do now – for all and everything.

You have travelled far from the core of your heart’s awareness.
Will you get back to it in time? We do not know.
But we are obligated to remind you of the key’s existence
And hence give you an opportunity to try.

VII

One last thought –

This world is a precious place, sculpted with endless opportunities for love –
Beautiful, abundant, vast, and deliciously exquisite in its myriad of forms.
It has always been humanity’s mandate to flourish and prosper –
To excel in coming home to its true essence and to cherish all who
Reside in this unfolding garden of love. This mandate will not be denied.

So I will ask you one last time – Are you not tired of this Game?

For truly, I AM.

white rose

BECAUSE WE ALL MATTER

                                                                                                             © Aliana Alani 2015

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WE LIVE IN A FRAGILE WORLD where what we know or hold dear can change in a second, and there are so many things we could be doing to soften its edges and warm its moments – for ourselves and for each other. Things that often take little and yet gift so much.

GENEROSITY – the dictionary defines it as ‘the quality of being kind, understanding and not selfish…’

GENEROSITY OF SPIRIT – is defined as ‘including the individual’s pure intentions of looking out for society’s common good and giving from the heart’.

IN A FRAGILE WORLD where most of us feel unbelievably vulnerable most of the time, the idea of being generous can often feel threatening; as though it might take something from us when we are feeling we have so little.

EARLIER THIS YEAR, I had one of those ‘change in a second’ moments where life suddenly turns and you are left wondering. The ice cometh, the fall happens, and everything flips (including you) into a different reality. The swirl of ambulances, doctors and surgery abound and you find yourself a little like Alice tumbling down that rabbit hole. Fascinating in a strange way but…

WHEN THE DRUG HAZE EVAPORATES and you are home again, more immobile than not, you find yourself gifted with that oft illusive thing we call – Time. Contemplation becomes the order of the day. Thoughts, the important and the not, spin like a slow-moving carousel. You filter, and you remember.

STRANGELY, PERHAPS, it is those moments of kindness which rise up and prove all important- the little things someone did to make your day easier – the smiles, the laughter – the goodwill of doctors and nurses – the angels that hovered nearby (and still do). That, and the escalating awareness that there really really really is only Now.

I HAVE SHARED THAT AWARENESS so many times in the years of my helping others but never was it brought home so clearly as during this journey. Are we doing what we love? Are we?  Are we giving what we can? Are we sharing our hearts with others? Are we loving – ourselves let alone anyone else? Are we doing it today? Because honestly it all can change in a second.

WHEN ACCIDENTS HAPPEN, it is so easy to take a stance and to blame– the city, the store where it happened, the sidewalk – whether you are the ‘slippee’ or the ‘slippor’ (make sense out of that one!). Plates of caring are offered up (even the sidewalk if you listen carefully says, ‘I’m sorry’). But when the world of legalese enters the door of dialogue that at the beginning seemed so positive, that generosity of spirit seems to evaporate.  The corporate fear of being taken reigns supreme and what was once an opportunity for caring between human beings is gone, like dust in the wind. I find that incredibly sad.

AS I RODE THAT WAVE OF SADNESS, which often seemed to marry the sadness of the world, I kept coming back to this – every moment matters. This world and all that is in it. Every particle, every cell, every atom is beautiful in its own unique way and carries within it a vibration of love, no matter what its story looks like. And yes, on one level we are beyond all the stories, but at the moment we are in this one, and so we are also here to remember, and to live that remembering.

TO OPEN THE HEART can be a scary thing, I know. But if we don’t – what then?  To be generous of heart may just be the greatest opportunity we will each ever have. The point is this – if I let myself love each moment of my day as if it were the only moment I will ever have,  I just might wake up some day, whether here or in the heavens, and find myself able to say – ‘I danced the dance of love, it loved me back, and we were better for it.’

SO BE DARING. BE GENEROUS. When that tiny gorgeous flower smiles at you, smile back. When that wee bird chirps merrily your way, grin like there’s no tomorrow. When the river of life throws you a curve, catch that ball and toss it back with a hint of a laugh. And when the love in your life suddenly looks like a tender delicate leaf about to crumble, hold their hand and remind them how much you love them, because you do. It takes nothing of you and gives so much in return.

AND REMEMBER – there is only Now and you truly are Love.

BE WELL AND PROSPER!

Souls are flying …

©Aliana Alani 2015

Souls are flying –??????????????

Soaring like newborn angels

High into the heavens.

Who are we to say

How or when they fly?

Better to honour their passing,

To kiss their leave-taking with prayer flags fluttering

And candles flickering like soft winds

From the heart.

Better to wish them well

In this their transition from one place

Of being to another.

Better to usher them on

Along a wave of love.wave-energy_nice-wave

For Boulder – For Colorado

Be strong, Boulder.

Stay strong, Colorado.

Our love and prayers are with you.

May angels grace your path and ease your way.

Bald Eagle Soaring

                      …Rocky Mountain high, I once knew you well

                                   as always, you are in my heart.