Spirit Move Me

Please Be There

noreply@blogger.com (Joanne Cucinello) — Thu, 11 Sep 2008 12:15:00 +0000

Please Be There

I want to sit
with those who weep tonight
but I am far removed.
The terror of that day
will live forever
in the streets of New York City
for there
among the ashes
spirits hover and cry out
to God Almighty.

We humans do not understand
the course of transformation
deigned to bring us life one day.

Is it suffering
that hones the heart
and cries for answers?
Is it love
that takes us through the valley
of the dead
and brings us back to new life?

Please, please . . . God of love
Cosmic Christ
be there with arms outstretched
when we deliver
our souls to you
on that day of our ascent.

Joanne Cucinello 9/11/2008

Humanity Wonders . . .

noreply@blogger.com (Joanne Cucinello) — Sun, 06 Jul 2008 14:49:00 +0000

When we read about the torture of other human beings, their deprivation and humiliation, and still . . . their continued will to survive, despite the horrors endured, we can only wonder at how immense the human spirit must be. Conversely, it is hard to conceive of what exists in the minds of torturers, what levels of consciousness they dwell in, when one tries to believe they are human beings who walk among us on this earth.

There is a vast expanse of human experience, a wide spectrum of evidence that suggests to me . . . humanity is as mysterious as its Creator. We continue to uncover such darkness and suffering, unbelieveable inhuman cruelties that leave us to wonder how and when mankind will ever evolve past these deadly sins. It is only the witness of those beings who, in their simple acts of loving kindness and compassion, raise humanity above its own gravity and allow us glimpses of what we can become.

Love Is the Answer

noreply@blogger.com (Joanne Cucinello) — Thu, 26 Jun 2008 14:43:00 +0000

When the apple is ripe, it will fall from the tree. A truth so simple yet profound. We try to shove God down the throats of those who are not yet hungry and wonder why they close the door. We forget about the call, the invitation. It was sent to us once . . . perhaps twice . . . perhaps a hundred times! When the heart is closed, so are the eyes and ears and only love can open them.

God sends an invitation to each and every soul in ways we ourselves could never imagine, and just when the moment is right and the apple is ready. Most of the time, I believe we live our lives unaware that our simple acts of love and kindness are speaking truer than all the lofty words our mouths proclaim. We try in vain to convert others to believe as we do, but that will not assure salvation. Salvation comes when one believes he/she is truly loved.

Angels Descending

noreply@blogger.com (Joanne Cucinello) — Fri, 13 Jun 2008 14:14:00 +0000

It was so quiet and beautiful, such peace before sunrise today.
For some reason, my thoughts turned to those who were dying at that moment, afraid perhaps, in their beds . . . waiting. Some with loved ones standing watch, some alone, some in hospitals ~ some newborns, some children with cancer waiting for their parents to let them go, all of them waiting . . . for the angels.

And as I looked out at the trees while dawn approached, I imagined those beautiful angels, all descending to the earth ~ each of them going to the dying, as they do throughout every night and every day, bringing them home ~ bringing each soul lovingly . . . home.

Reflections On the Heroic Journey

noreply@blogger.com (Joanne Cucinello) — Thu, 12 Jun 2008 19:34:00 +0000

I've always found myself drifting back to the teachings of Joseph Campbell, since his work in Mythology is unsurpassed. This is an interesting exercise we shared as a group at our Labyrinth Circle one time . . . based on the Myth of the Hero investigating our "peak experiences". You might find it, as we did . . . very enlightening.

Peak Experiences

World renowned mythologist Joseph Campbell often noted that “peak experiences” in the Heroic Journey make possible the transformation of consciousness or “illumination”. The hero or heroine leaves the safety of the clan (home, family or community) and goes out, embarks on the quest, fights the dragon (tests), etc. . . . and returns transformed. He/she brings back this new understanding to the clan, and with it, the clan’s collective consciousness grows.

Choose a peak experience in your life:
1) Was it chosen or were you thrown into it?
2) Describe the landscape where you found yourself.
3) What was the quest?
4) Describe the temptations along the way.
5) Identify the dragons, the stumbling blocks and obstacles that locked you in or tried to hold you back.
6) Who were the mythological figures in your adventure? i.e.; the old man, woman, crone, teacher, king or queen, warrior, sorcerer, white knight, princess, the magician, the messenger, the witch, the holy one, etc.
7) When did you come to the edge of the abyss, the point of no return?
8) Who were the people who had been in the same place you were embarking on, your “guides”.
9) Can you identify the mythological theme you experienced?
10)Identify your Bliss, Illumination, Transformation . .
the gift you brought back to the clan.
11)Can you find your Center, the place where you can hear
your heartbeat and know it’s you?

What If?

noreply@blogger.com (Joanne Cucinello) — Sat, 07 Jun 2008 14:57:00 +0000

There was a song once,
“What If God Was One Of Us?”
and that “us”, is usually "Man" understood.
But what if God was a woman?
What if he was a She?
What if he was a HE/SHE?
What if Jesus was Chinese,
or Budda was Italian . . .
or Mohammed was really Shiva
and Hari Krishna . . . St. Paul?

What if none of this mattered?
What if all the "gods" were belly-laughing
on that holy dome above the stars
drinking celestial wine,
toasting every new creation
and wondering when
we’ll get the message . . .

Our tiny minds can never fathom,
no square box of rites and customs
can ever describe
the height and breadth and depth
of what 'no eye has seen, nor ear has heard'
. . . the Wonder, the Vastness, the Love . . .
of the ONE we call by many names
the ONE WHO IS.

Joanne Cucinello 2007

Apparition

noreply@blogger.com (Joanne Cucinello) — Tue, 03 Jun 2008 15:58:00 +0000

Enter Now

A Renaissance is brewing.
There are Weavers . . . great Artists
in the wings
playing harps of discontent
waiting . . .
waiting . . .
for the fine strings to unravel.
Crystal clarity envelops them
but the path they seek to ride
is cluttered with confusion and debris.

Old thought must die now
all that can survive
must come from spirit minds
cloned with highest
visions for mankind.
The noise that rises from the earth
is deafening to gentle stars
adrift in velvet darkness.
They are praying . . .
praying for us
to remember
who we are. . .
to remember the great and
valiant call . . .
the echoes of the great chiefs
and saints and humble spirits
whose sobs reverberate
stirring the dark black hole
that leads to our redemption.

How will we continue?
This quest is not political
no partisans are welcome here
when our humanity is at stake.

Look! . . . They approach now!
There! In the sky . . . a great omen.

There . . . see! They come . . .glorious
Three stallions . . . riding on the clouds with wild
and furious manes unfurled
they charge with giant hooves of sapphire.

The first is midnight black
the smoke of all lost tribes
surging through his raging nostrils.
“Why?” he asks, in voice of thunder.
“Why . . . have you not listened?”

And now another sound
of great wind howling through the skies
advancing wild and raptured
an ancient Appaloosa upon whose back
the horseman rides.
“When . . . When?” he cries with loud
uproarious voice.
“We are waiting!!”

And then a sudden stillness parts the skies
No sound escapes the silence . . . silence
and in the distance
a red-hued sun begins to rise,
the firmament
encased with brilliance.
And then . . .
Oh Glory!
Oh Majesty!
He comes,
He comes!
The great White Spirit Horse
with eyes of fire and legs of alabaster
his silver mane aloft, alive
with lightening flashing through
the heavens
and on his back . . . the Holy One
the Ageless One . . . but see
He wears no plate of armor
no sword is reeled
yet He is shining . . . shining
brighter than the sun . . .
the God-Child comes
and in his hands
red glowing embers
of his flaming heart.
“Who will carry this?”
“Who will take my burden?”

And from his heart
Red glowing tears . . . embers
shooting stars
Falling . . . falling
to the earth like manna
come to rest on those with
outstretched hands
and the burden of the God-Child
was received,
the burden of the earth and all
its creatures
and mankind wept
tears of gold . . .
as the ancient ones departed and
the winds ceased to roar
the sheath of heaven closed
to find a renaissance beginning

and see . . . the earth is turning green again.

Joanne Cucinello 2007

Friends . . . they surround me with inspiration and affirm my life.

noreply@blogger.com (Joanne Cucinello) — Thu, 29 May 2008 20:16:00 +0000

Friends are our chosen gifts in life. Some have been with us since childhood or school days. Some came into our lives during times of spiritual growth or life changing events. We find ourselves attracted to certain people as our lives unfold and we seem to choose friends who support who we are and how we see ourselves. We choose them also, because we feel love and connection in their presence. There are those who even replace our scattered families and perhaps there will be one at our deathbed holding our hand. Friendships are a vital part of being human. Without them, life could never be the same.

I met my friend Patricia during a spiritual renewal years ago, a time of life that invigorated both us and our spouses as well as the new community we formed. Her essence has never changed, yet she continues to grow in age and grace. No stranger to strife nor suffering, she has transformed her wounds into healing hands and shamanic gifts for the benefit of so many.

Perhaps you'll feel her spirit here in my poem for her:

Patricia Fair of Heart

I have seen you enter
that space reserved for few,
silent, protected by the Light.

On your palms, the stars rest
a token mark that claims you
for the good of all.

You have journeyed with the cross
mountains high and rivers deep
furrowed places in your heart.

Echoes of the goddess song
are resonating deep within waiting
to unravel your spirit ribbons.

Can you see now?
The time is near, the season has arrived
for blessings of the Holy One.

Long enough this walk on stone
long enough the yearning to be free
and light as the heron . . .

Muse bird of the gods
the long legged one who slices water
unannounced with mystic dance.

So for you, the gift of healing
for you, the gift of light
for you, this song on heron's wings.

Joanne Cucinello © 2007

Moving On

noreply@blogger.com (Joanne Cucinello) — Thu, 29 May 2008 11:51:00 +0000

This road
is the one
you should take ~
he said.

And I looked
far down
to its bend
around the trees
not knowing
what
my eyes would find.

The silent oaks stood
tall and strong
their branches
dropping graceful
leaves along the path
beckoning ~

my soft foot
to take a chance
and follow
the unknowing curve
that mirrored
my life.

Joanne Cucinello

Every time I find a winding road, I think of how different my life would be if I chose not to walk the path I did. The unknowing is really a blessing if you trust the spirit within . . . if you learn to recognize the voice of God and how that voice speaks to you. It's different for everyone . . . but it's always there.

The Breath of God

noreply@blogger.com (Joanne Cucinello) — Thu, 29 May 2008 11:35:00 +0000

I've often wondered what my life would be, had I never followed the wind that blew through my soul. Somehow I learned very early that something else existed within me, something undeniably real yet intangeable. I believe it to be my spirit, my spirit . . . which is one of many, a seed of God.

My life took many turns and roads appeared, forked always, along the way. Decisions, that would change me forever, the yes's and no's that opened and closed the doors before me . . . were prompted by this spirit and so made my life. The breath of God keeps me alive to do what I was born for, and that is . . . to share my words, my light and my love. I am just one, one of many lights, many loves and many words . . . but I am Me.

And so Spirit, move me . . .

Stand there
at the mirror
try it at dawn
try it fresh rolled out
of covers' warmth.
Get past the outer shell
that like the sun
rises with a new light daily.
Get past the drool
that's stuck to your morning lip.
Get past it all!
Go to the eyes,
deep into them.
You'll find what never changes . . .
those eyes, reflecting your soul.

Joanne Cucinello 2008