We Are All Here for Just a Brief Moment in Time
We are all here for just a brief moment in time,
very brief.
Now you see it, now you don't,
a wisp of smoke, a flash of light, a guest appearance,
but while we are
let us live with as much love, kindness,
and gratitude, as we can,
and we can!
You, me,
and all of the other 7.9 billion people on the planet.
What an opportunity we have! What a joy!
Will there be hard times? Of course there will.
Moses wandered in the desert for 40 years,
Jesus was crucified,
Martin Luther King was assassinated,
no one ever said this was going to be easy,
but above and beyond all the difficulties,
there is an infinite supply of grace,
wisdom, healing, freedom, joy, laughter, poetry,
music, art, dancing, friendship, peace and love
waiting for each of us to say YES to.
Have you? Will you?
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October 01, 2021Radiant Being of Light
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July 26, 2021AFTER LISTENING TO YOU
After listening to you, I am moving much differently today, more like the wind than the one on his way, more like the river with nothing to say, more like the prayer than needing to pray.
How this transformation happens is a mystery to me. I do nothing, but have everything, I work and I play. I seek nothing, but find, sitting alone in the room of myself, a newly crowned king. My heart is a milkweed and you are the breeze, I stand taller now, down on my knees, inheritor of a fortune I didn't know was mine -- one that's been waiting for me since the beginning of time -- my need to count gone, the long journey done. You see, and you do, I have nothing to measure and nothing to measure it with, here in this place of pure being, breathing pure pleasure.
Can it really be this simple? Can it really be -- that after all these years of searching for the holy grail the holy grail is me? Maybe that's why babies smile and old monks laugh. Maybe that's why the two of us are one, you my better half. Some people get this on their death bed, some by almost dying, some know it from the beginning, some get lost in trying. Such a great mystery it is because it really isn't: Arrive by already being there! Find the voice of your heart. Be the shore to the wave, the canvas to life's art.
Today, newly born, a thousand psalms fill my cells and I, deaf, dumb, and blind, remember the silence just before the temple bell. How simple it all is! There is nothing to ring, nowhere to go, nothing to bring, and no seed to sow. The flag is not moving, nor is the wind here in this realm where a thousand, grateful angels find themselves dancing on the head of a pin.
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February 02, 2021The Breath Blown Through Me
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August 13, 2020I Have Written 1,000 Poems for You
I have written a thousand poems for you
that have never left my room,
they fill the pages of notebooks
stacked high on a shelf no one can reach,
orphans they are,
beggars afraid they are not
noble enough for the King,
would never make it past the guards,
I make a vain attempt
to dress them up,
disguise their ridiculous origins,
but still they smell bad,
even so, there are times, late at night,
when they think I'm asleep,
I can almost hear them talking to each other,
conjuring ways to make it to your court,
oh, the arguments they have,
the brawls,
the lunatic moments of staking their ground!
Some of them actually believe
all they need is a shower and a shave,
others, unsure of who they are or might have been,
insist on practicing, all night long,
their perfect way of greeting you.
Of course, there is much to be said
for these backroom bards,
these arm wrestling vagrants from another world,
indeed, if I was dead,
my slightly deaf biographer,
after paying his respects to my dear, sweet wife,
would borrow them just long enough to search for pearls,
find the perfect turn of phrase,
the sudden storm of brilliance
even my harshest critics
would have to praise,
he'd think of clever little titles for the tome,
describing, in his mournfully halting way,
the "man who left his muse too soon"
or some such thing
that might make you stop for a moment and wonder
why I never gave these poems to you --
the one for whom it all makes sense,
even when it doesn't.
Excerpted from Full Moon at Sunrise
Photo: Aaron Burden, Unsplash
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June 26, 2020PLUM TREE
Today, I imagined everything I owned had reduced itself down to a singular plum tree -- the kind an 85-year old Japanese poet, sipping sake, likes to tend at the end of the day. This plum tree, this solitary plum tree, has suddenly become the still, ripe center of my life -- the axis around which all my desires dissolve, stunned as I am, ALIVE, purple fruit everywhere.
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November 07, 2018Longing Wells Up from Within
TimelessToday
Heart of the Matter
Words of Peace Global
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August 21, 2018Off the Coast of Love
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February 03, 2018The Beautiful Sadness of Longing
THE BEAUTIFUL SADNESS OF LONGING
There is a beautiful kind of sadness, one most people think they shouldn't feel, that needs to be celebrated. Or, if not celebrated, then at least welcomed like the evening's last beggar at your door.
This sadness is divine, the experience of what most people consider to be an absence, but, in reality, is the presence of the divine longing for the Beloved.
It would be easy to conclude that this feeling is a disconnection from joy, an unfortunate amnesia that would make an easy target for well-meaning givers of advice to quote from their favorite scripture,
but I am not talking about this garden variety of sadness. I am talking about another kind -- a holy melancholy that sculpts, deepens, and refines from within.
Like the dusk that follows day, it is not devoid of light -- only another shade of light. Yes, it is darker, but so what? Isn't it the darkness that allows the stars to shine?
When a human being is in the presence of their Beloved, it is easy to feel joy. Like leaving home in the middle of a storm, it is easy to get wet there. But when the Beloved departs (ah, the paradox, the late night debates -- does the Beloved ever depart?), an uncomfortable feeling arises.
The moon is full, but you are empty -- thirsty for something to fill you again, but the only thing to drink is a bucket of tears and you cannot find the handle. Off in the distance you hear the sound of a cello. Is it sad or beautiful?
Drawn by the music, you follow, feeling your way, singing silent songs of praise and wondering if what you hear is the sound of your own voice or your name being called.
You know and have always known, that the Beloved has left the world behind as a gift. But you do not want the gift. You want the Giver.
Video production: Fernando Garcia
Music: Stuart Hoffman
Poetry: Mitch Ditkoff
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January 18, 2018When You Walk Into the Room
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September 25, 2017I Take a Few Deep Breaths
On a good day
I take a few deep breaths
and feel God's primal tide inside me.
A force of nature they are,
coming from who knows where.
They continue, these breaths,
one slow motion wave at a time,
and take everything I have
back into the ocean.
Nothing remains,
nothing at all,
just the blue sky overhead
and the shell of a body
at ease, at rest, at peace,
now thankful for a power
greater than me
hiding in my breath.
Some inspiration for you
My book of poetry
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April 29, 2017Beneath the Hot Sun
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April 22, 2017The Swing
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August 22, 2016When the Rain Begins
Exquisite new song and slide show by Stuart Hoffman and Jennifer Edwards. Vocals by Stephen Rivera.
Stuart's YouTube channel
Soaked
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April 07, 2016Welcome to UNSPOKEN WORD: THE POETRY OF LIFE!
Greetings! Mitch Ditkoff here, author of UNSPOKEN WORD: The Poetry of Life. My intention with this newly launched blog is to spark some inspiration, reflection, and gratitude -- a chance for you to take a breath, pause, and savor some of the sweetness of life. Knowing how busy you usually are, each post will take you less than a minute to imbibe. Today's launch is the exception, one that includes ten posts -- my attempt to give you a flavor of what's to come. Please enjoy. And if you do, please spread the word. Good muse travels fast...
TimelessToday
PremRawat.com
Heart of the Matter
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