Stairway to Presence

The Mysterious Medicine of Poetry

Listen Here to the Postcast

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I see poetry as spiritual medicine

Mahmoud Darwish

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Photo by J.Millard

Stairway to Presence

Riding the waves of creativity
like a wild soul disappearing
deep into a warm flood
Surrendering to the rhapsody
of the angel of presence
Calling out for the sweet thunder
of possibility
to overflow inside
Feeling into the surge
as the world explodes
as ink
Into
the waiting page

Poetry is spiritual medicine. Poetry is a yogic meditation sacred to the mysterious awareness of soul.

I wake on the scent of dawn.
Floating.
My paddle breaks the surface of a new day
as I still gently cling to the driftwood of a dream.
I taste the sweet cedar ripple of expansion as I sense the promise of a coming storm.
The waves are rising above a whisper.
The words would soon be calling.
Don’t go back to sleep!
I feel a poem before I see one.
The Darwish call of delicious bitter coffee sings to my addiction.
I rise slowly but firmly to this moist rush of recognition that opens up absolute essence to the gentle stoked fire of inspiration.
Pen in hand.
Patiently facing the quivering leaves of opening possibilities
I intimately enter into the sacred vestibule of creativity.
Sometimes the words are there quickly and overwhelm me as I am swallowed by the loud wail of an ecstatic frenzy.
Some days
I inhabit a slow tantric trance that quietly breaks me open into a long steady dance.
I close my eyes and softly surrender to receive the gift of presence.
I feel a poem before I write one.
I let go
and let the magic of the experience flow
through me.
I am not the outcome nor the passive recipient of a kiss
I lead and I follow
in a raising dervish dance on the tides of being.
Born of soul not mind.
Bleeding from beating hearts
colliding as love.
Catching the words on the inhalation of a chorus of sound pausing only to breathe out into the syntax of the storm.
In the whirling and shaking oneness in the house of souls
I melt into the candlelit darkness as serendipity and epiphany scream out my name!
I speak in tongues as my own life ceases to exist at the frontier of this threshold.
I climb a stairway
to disappear into the wet dripping milk and honey of words.
My spirit guides me
to a naked page
where I pray
at the altar
of a poem.

© Jamie Millard

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If you ask me what my poetry is I must tell you I don’t know;
but if you ask my poetry, it will tell you who I am.

Pablo Neruda

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Poetry is the alchemy of presence. It is the miracle form of art that we practice every day of our lives whether we are truly aware of it or not. Poetry is created in words yet goes between and beyond the words themselves. Poetry is a contemplative practice that connects us to the self and to the no self of the present moment. Poetry is an act of resilience that opens up the spaces where transformation is possible.

I believe that poetry is meant to be read out loud. The recording of this post with reflection is included above at the beginning of this article. Reading, writing and listening to a poem is a meditative act and the words will create an intimate encounter with the heartfulness of presence. We enter into a poem. To fully enter a poem, we must first stop and step away from the more immediate demands of our life and engage with the poetry. We shift out of our consciousness of the busy mind wrapped in its self-centred egoic stories and projections. Poetry is a portal to presence.

Poetry invites us into a space of awareness of Being and is a wonderful addition to a spiritual practice. Poetry is a soulful catalyst to harvest more presence in a creative writing practice.

Poetry embraces mystery. It blends metaphor with myth and mirror to confluence with the magic, message and minstrel of soul. Poetry is spiritual medicine that takes us on a stairway to presence.

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There are many ways to claim a meaningful life.
Poetry is one of them.

Margo Fuchs Knill

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Please reach out for a deeper conversion if you need a guide to head out onto the path of poetry as its own endeavour or as a companion to your practice of presence.

Thank you so much for reading.

Lots of Love,

Jamie