In the vastness of time I stand in this brief moment between a dream and a dream with no name, no face, no past and no future; alone and naked, giving the light of not-being to the false dreams of prophecy and the path; breathing hope to the hopeless hearts; narrating the stories of the void; burning my light over and over until nothing remains of me. — “Stories For Ugly Children” by Koyote the Blind
Today is the Transgender Day of Remembrance. It is a day to remember those who were murdered for having the courage to be who they are.
Here is a token to all transgender people, my people, a haiku in memoriam of your beautiful lives where you have had the bravery to find yourselves and to seek to reflect the inner in the outer.
You join a long list of people killed for being themselves. Every cultural, political, gender, religious, sexual, racial, condition, and national label that has caused you to be discriminated, assaulted, or killed is one of the deepest shames of humanity.
To have the courage to continue to pave the way for a humanity that is just and enlightened is now our burden.
I am that I AM.
Beyond all labels and names,
I see me in you.
Koyote the Blind
The Heart is a Light
For Koyote the Blind
A light shines in darkness
A heart blazes
A flame in the wilderness
Under the blue canopy of sky
A bush the burns in the desert
The truth has a friend
Who makes introductions
In the sacred tongues
To the cool moon and warm sun
A friend who stalks
hidden pathways amid the wavering stars
flashing out of the purple deep
winking with the rhythmic breath of the gods
who each in their turn
whisper a name of the Beloved into his ear
A friend whose eyes never shy
From the tears of the One
Who is our beginning
Ever flowing waters
That pour from his mouth
Into our hearts
Now alight with pure intent
–gnosticman (Gerald Porter, requiescat in pace, will be deeply missed)
Every thought comes and goes.
Every second of time comes and goes.
Every aspiration comes and goes.
Every lifetime I’ve had, it comes and goes.
Every second of time, it comes and goes.
Every flicker of time, it comes and goes.
The watcher watches; and when I move,
the watcher watches.
When I dance, the watcher watches.
When I love, the watcher watches.
When I kill and consume the flesh of my enemy,
the watcher watches.
When I sin of hatred, the watcher watches.
When I sin for love, the watcher watches.
When I pray to God, the watcher watches.
When I blaspheme against God, the watcher watches.
The watcher watches all the time;
and it does not change;
it does not move.
The watcher watches;
and the watcher inside me is what the five watchers
perched on the Tree of Life,
and through the darkness within them,
watch the watcher within.
(The Watchers, from Koyote’s Angelic Host series)
What I can observe is that in the distant depth of the night, there in the profundity of the nocturnal sky where the night and the silence are perennial and identical, the stars shiver silent and distant, allowing me to perceive through the immense void the vibrations of silence.
She comes to me naked, in the purity of her presence, without the garments of light, sounds, life and thought.
I’ve known her longer than myself. I’ve known her before I, before time, before the memory of her.
I have seemed to forget her, and in the dark dungeons of forgetfulness, in that mindless chaos of existence, I looked for her.
She was there, always, hidden in every desire and every which pain.
Behind every corner of thought, peeking or waiting at the periphery of the horizon of time and experience, she shines eternally in relentless and unwavering wait.
She weaves and undoes the endless tapestry of existence phenomenal, waiting for the beloved to come to her as vagabond, worthless suitor, with his only claim in the secret chamber of his heart–an arrow certain and true.
She comes to me naked, silent, and I am blinded and deafened by her all consuming touch.
Clear waters shinning
sun, stars, and moon from within;
for my eyes to drink.
In the past few months, my dear friend, Jenny Gotts, came to visit me a couple of times. We would discuss her birth chart, her path of destiny, and in those talks she came to see how her life had unfolded in such a beautiful expression of her pure will.
She came to see in her present life a true fulfillment of her destiny, where the deeper and unknown parts of herself were manifesting effortlessly, and helping so many guests who would come to her home, where she and Harry would graciously host inspiring events, and where so many souls found healing, inspiration, guidance, and joy.
“I don’t know how it happens,” she’d say to me, “I don’t really do anything, but everything seems to confabulate to make a difference for people that come to my house.”
Whether it was the labyrinth, a weekend at the cabin, a vision quest, a sweat lodge, or her beloved Tuesday Group, countless journeys were made easier and more joyful because Jenny was there for them.
In one of these talks, just a few weeks before her crossing over, I wrote this haiku for her. I can’t help but look at it over and over as I contemplate her happy smile and loving presence in her last weeks, as she was saying her good byes. I’m showing her haiku here against the background of her beautiful stained glass pieces, with the sweet rose of her loving heart.
Slowly glides the star
across a rushing heaven,
going whence I came.
Whose child is that soul,
staring back at me at night
behind mirror’s eyes?
always swaying with the wind.
Open to the sky.