The Bee

author's note:

"Buzz!  Buzz!"
        — Shakespeare, The Taming of the Shrew


THE BEE

Years ago
while searching for beliefs
that would give our life meaning
I said “yes” to this idea:

a plan exists for each human being.

Yes—the life stories I heard
often seemed to confirm that thought.
Many times the wise design was so clear.

However

when I looked back at my own tracks
I couldn’t even see a vague outline
in that gnarly mess.
No sense, just nonsense.

Finally in frustration
I stood up from the table
and walked in a straight mile
to the clover field—

I would lay myself down and allow
that laid-back expanse
to lull me into a sweet nap.

But the brilliance of the sun
kept my eyes open—
amid the green, I spotted a bee
zigging and zagging and zigging.
No apparent pattern in its avid track
and yet
it found one small white flower after another.
Restlessly relentless—
that bee was me.

I’m still trying to see
the grand design made for me.
However, now I don’t doubt
my life serves a purpose.
Consider this indisputable fact:
mad-active bees load this hive with honey.

mythsteps · The Bee

Searching for my best beliefs: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
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© 2024, Michael R. Patton

Truths I Tell Myself to Lighten the Load

author’s note:

I’ve learned to enjoy the daily grind.


TRUTHS I TELL MYSELF TO LIGHTEN THE LOAD

If indeed
the path we’re on is the path we need
then apparently, I need
a path that’s hard to see—
apparently, I need
to continually struggle
to find my way—

to search all around
with my back bent down
by a big burden bequeathed to me at birth.

Okay, but why do I need what I need?

Well, after some consideration
I do see these benefits for the soul:

Because I was given a gnarly maze
instead of a clear straight line
I have worked hard to find
the truth hidden deep within the center.

And because I was given
such a shoulder load
I have worked hard to find
the strength hidden deep within me.

Yeah, that stone grinds me down
but as I lose I uncover
the me beneath the surface—
I discover more of who I am.

Good to remind myself of these truths
because when I do the weight seems to ease a bit.
And if I then feel the need
for a little extra lift
I’ll dream this possibility:

someone lost could someday learn
from the lessons I’ll leave in my wake—
they’ll be able to see how
I eventually arrived
at the deep core of my being.

Maybe they’ll get a lift
when they read
how strong I felt then—so strong
my millstone
seemed light as a pebble.

mythsteps · Truths I Tell Myself to Lighten the Load

Glorious Tedious Transformation: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2024, Michael R. Patton

Meditating Upon a Centipede

author's note:

I dedicate this poem to those who wanted the Carlos Castaneda books to be true.

I dedicate this poem to myself.


MEDITATING UPON A CENTIPEDE

Influenced by that author
who told us how he’d seen the unseen
I decided to go into the forest alone
to try to pierce the veil of ordinary reality—

maybe if I believed strongly enough
and razored my intent
I’d see that spirit world for myself.

Call me a fool if you wish
but I desperately wanted
to experience wonder again—
to rescue myself
from a mire of dullness.

So I walked deep into the woods
then stopped and stood and stared
into the dense shadows
using extreme focus—
as described in the book.

I would remain in such intensity
until my power vision revealed
the truth of what exists all around us.

For many minutes
I squinted with determination.
I refused to quit—to fail.

But then my eyeballs began to ache
with frustration.

So finally I surrendered
and sat in a slump on a stump.

But then with my head hanging down
I noticed a stirring
in the dead leaves on the ground—
honing in, I saw
a centipede ambling
through a rich wasteland.
Its white hide almost luminous.

Such vigor
in its relentless investigation.
Such harmony
in that party of dancing legs.

Amazed
I held my focus without effort—
without strain

as that sensitive creature
stepped and stepped and stepped and stepped and stepped

and stepped

until it stepped into
a small dark doorway
at the base of the stump.

I then realized
I’d entered an elevated state—
maybe I could see the spirit world now.

But no—
the surge of desire
caused the bubble to pop—
in an instant I returned
to my usual state of mind.

But no, not quite—
I walked away alive to that forest world—
awake after witnessing
the spirit of an incredible creation.

Centipede—centipede—centipede
I say:
thank you—thank you—thank you.

mythsteps · Meditating Upon a Centipede

Listening to Silence: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
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© 2024, Michael R. Patton

How We Make Wine

author's note:

"Drink me."
       — from Alice in Wonderland


HOW WE MAKE WINE

Some use alchemy as a metaphor
when talking about personal transformation

but gold seems such a lofty goal.
I believe a better metaphor
would be winemaking.

Consider my reasoning:

like the grape cut from the vine
so many of us get stomped on—
repeatedly stomped—crushed.

But those stomps are just the first step:
we must process our experience—
we must process
in the quiet stillness of the cellar—
process and develop
down in dusty catacombs.

The process can’t be rushed.
But when the time finally comes
what’s made in the basement
must be brought up—
I say:
the resurrection isn’t complete
until we pull the cork and pour
so others can drink.

Maybe I’m not vintage
but even a middling wine can elevate—
all you’ve got to do
is lift this topfull glass.

mythsteps · How We Make Wine

Glorious Tedious Transformation: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2024, Michael R. Patton