Evolve

‘Playing with Dad’ by Vickie Wade

Sacraments change prayer
‘Help your wife do dishes,’ or
‘Go play with the kids.’ Read More

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Fluorescence

“Redlight” by Katrin Fridriks

In the Tibetan mountains I retired to my little cot every night, happy to soon commune with my Lord. But these sallow eyes and wan complexion in this hive of ten-thousand street lamps, only want to escape, sacrificing prayer for distant and pale dreams. And the screen projects blasphemies, spitting them Read More

One Year

Painting by Julia Watkins

Here we go ‘round the prickly pear, full circle needing prayer

Ashes to molasses, dust to suckling star dust

Sing your celebration, don’t compensate for your salvation

Only to look upon Creation and see what you must: Read More

August Rainbows

Creede Rainbow

Photo by Amaya Engleking

Just out of the shower, baby in bed, husband putting toddler to sleep; I look down the hall to see the front room awash in that lemon-zest glow that is common of the dawn, but a prized gift for bedtime.  Still seeing a light rain to the west where the sun is ready to slip behind the mountains, without hesitating I grab the camera and bolt out the kitchen door, sure there will be a heaven-sent rainbow in this reminding light. Read More

Currency

Prayer Piedra

Praying in Tayrona, Colombia

To sacrifice smarts for wisdom

Simplicity the gift, the dream of the ages

All these lines evolve into something greater than themselves

Greatness intrinsic to the word-seeds

If you could love a perfect prophet then you know love Read More

Source/El Origen

Word to the people of the world
It’s in the water, as a loving Father
Or a bodhisattva comes to us
From the skies, formed of his designs,
By gravity of grace, here to remind
Unblind, and hydrate all that has dried
Into a reality we face:

That if I speak liberate,
I could find my fate, taken and raped,
Locked up in a pool of lead acetate.

To hell wit dat, I don’t drink polluted words
Or spit what I heard, nah, I drink from the earth
Man it’s about the Mani, not the money
The OM, not the O-M-G and see,
Not tryin to be funny but this water’s so free
And flowin that I’m down here knowin it’s been Daddy-O spinnin
This Manikhorlo from the beginning and—Er Ree EE-e—
Scratch that, Big D(J), this Whee-ee-eel has
None nor end but I’s just wond-er-in’ the nature of the
Period, cuz every song has one and
The peak of this mountain, is covered in truth,
That melts~

So I go along with him, to follow his rhythm
Of the air, of the prayer, of this wild hair,

Of this word.

©Amaya Engleking, 2011

 

La palabra para la gente del mundo

Está en el agua

Como amoroso Papa

O una bodhisattva

Viene a nosotros

Desde los cielos

Hecha de sus diseños

Con la gravedad de la gracia

Para recordar, develar, hidratar

Todo lo que se ha secado

Hasta ser la realidad que enfrentamos:

Si yo hablo de “liberar”

Podria encontrar mi vida

Robada, violada, y encerrada

Con las llaves ya en el fondo del abismo.

Al diablo con eso

Yo no tomo palabras polucionadas

Ni escupo lo que yo he oido

No, yo las tomo del manantial

Sabe a Dios, no a dineros

A “OM” no “O-M-G ¡que escalandosos!”

Y no estoy tratando jugar

Sino que el agua es libre y corriente

Y estoy en la tierra yendo humildemente

Porque Mi Viejo ha girado

Esta gran rueda rezada

La manikorla y la mandala

Desde la primera palabra

La rueda sin principio y sin fin

Pero todavía me maravillo

De la naturaleza del punto

Porque cada canto tiene solo uno

Y la punta cima de esta montaña

Está cubierta de la verdad

Que se derrite

Porque todos la tomemos

Asi que yo fluyo

Sigiendo su ritmo

Derramondo alabanzas, lágrimas

Y palabras

 

© 2012, Amaya Engleking