Sunflower

Thirsty for the Light, you turn your head to the horizon.
In disbelief, as that passionate friend drops out of view.

You try to pull yourself from the roots and chase that vagabonding lover, but firmly grounded you remain.

Yet in that pulling strain, you call up the soil's moist offering.
That each night you transform to the morning's yellow joy.

Helen Klebesadel, Where Are the Bees? II
Original Watercolor

The Offering Maker

You devoted your life to those intricate festival offerings we carried to the altar.

Your hands still remember the old prayers crafted of wood and fiber.
Offering service to these bodies -- our earthly temples.

Wine Stains on Your Robe

Everyone feels the flame. So why not embrace that fire?

We hunger to taste the wine spilled in those taverns,
Whose mandala-like stains swirl at the hem of your priestly robe.

The Dervish Tilts Her Head

The dervish has been turning.
Infinite whorls of creation appear and dissolve.

Tilting her head, a new doorway opens.
Lifetimes tasted and savored.
All forms moving in the Dance.

A Tree Burns

The tree stands lonely guardian over the winter's field.
Squirrels find shelter deep in its trunk.

Listen carefully friend: this time the sap returns early.
Pushing past old scars, new leaves will dance in the Divine One's breath.

The fire consumes from the inside.
Only the bark will burn.

Hungry Travelers

You greet the travelers with colorful stones cupped in your extended hand.

Your smile draws us closer. "Take one," you offer.

Warmed by your heart, sitting in our pockets and purses, they sing of the Beloved.
Dancing now, our hunger gone, we bless your generosity, and spill the wine.

No Miniatures

Taken by the Beloved's had to the Center of Creation, the artist returns to decorate the temple.
Windows, walls, the floors themselves, encoded with intricate patterns of the great mystery.

Now that work is complete. The DNA is revealed. The door is thrown open and we step gently across the threshold.

Now another canvas awaits. New brushes stand ready for bold splashes of color.
No miniatures here! This path has been waiting for your bigness.

The Gardeners Called Away

The gardeners, getting older in body, tend the flower beds a little slower this season.
Each cluster of shoots holding the promise of a summer-revealed scent, colors yet to be revealed.

Called away, gloves removed, the spade wiped clean. Others will have your attention now.
Leaves unfurling under your loving gaze, it is time for celebration.
The garden waits in safety for your return.

Abundance

Filled with nectar, you sit in a circle of gopis. Expansive and radiant.
Behind you is the Beloved Friend and guardian.
Step into the vortex to this time and place.
From the place of abundance, come and remind us of our gifts: of the bigness of our souls.

I Need Your Opinion

Friends, I need your help in deciding whether to try again to launch my "anonymous blessing community" website. I will have to pay for hosting and for software upgrades, and can't decide if the idea is a good one or not. This site is different from the blessing poems I have written myself and posted here, as the idea is to allow anyone to ask for a blessing and anyone to create one in response -- with both the requester and the responder to be anonymous.

My vision is that thousands of people would start sharing heartfelt messages with each other on a one-to-one basis, but yet remain unknown to each other. This would prevent anyone from getting "hooked" on someone and keep the energy clean. Before a blessing was delivered to the indented recipient, it would have to be approved by at least 2 community members. Thus preventing spam, preaching or negative messages.

In order to work, the community would need at least 20 users willing to participate in creating blessings and screening what was sent. Hundreds could join solely to ask for a blessing or affirmation.

The question is -- does this meet any real need? There are many ways to ask for a blessing. Some people only want to deal face-to-face; others might go online, but find the anonymous quality a turn-off. Many folks might be happy creating a blessing poem (as I do on this site), but want to know who it is for. Or they are happy to post affirmations or general blessings to the world at large (e.g., via Twitter).

I am committed to creating my Sufi Blessings for anyone who asks. At some point I may request a small payment. The question is -- is the idea of a large web of blessings, not created by a preacher or teacher or master, but by individuals responding to another's request, a good idea? Please comment below.

The Canopy Comes

“The tent of the Beloved is torn!” The mureeds rush with rope and bolts of fabric.

In the breath we hear: “rest in the moment, a new canopy comes.”

Every forgiveness mends that tattered cloth.

Every prayer weaves a new foundation.

Helen Klebesadel, Hope (36x20)

Humming Bird

Earthbound, you long to soar. One look into the deep of your eyes tells us of the sweetness of your mission.

Not a hawk, but a hummingbird, caressing the pedals of our soul. Reminding us of the garden once again.




Bettina Madini, Angel of Serenity

This Poem and Art is available as a Friendship Card.

The Tree is Gone

A tree stood as guardian at the river's edge, a landmark on the less-traveled path, waiting for the pilgrims needing her protective shade.

Today, that tree is gone. Its roots are the stars, its leaves the meteors and comets of the bright summer-night sky.

The river continues to flow. The pilgrims safe under this new evening light.

Bettina Madini, River of Life

So Many Temples

So many astral temples you've built! They pulse, crowed with angelic song.

Each design holds your imprint, waiting for manifestation.

This time we are ready. The children have been painting those walls, preparing them for the crowds to come.

Mirage-like, they dip into this world as we spin in devotion.


Bettina Madini, Portal to the Temple of Light

This Poem and Art is available as a Friendship Card.

The Vagabond

Invite the one who holds the soul-fire to sit at your side.


Your blessing brings the vagabond to his true nature.


Holding the torn fabric as it is made whole by your deep listening.



Bettina Madini, Angel of Abundance

Dharma Walker

Today I read they activated the Haldron Collider. Sending protons racing to become elemental fireballs. Hoping to illuminate the "dark matter" -- the gravitas of physical being.

You, dear friend, tap another fireball. Your path, step after considered step, illuminates a different darkness.

Calling us to the true fire at the edge of each breath.

Bettina Madini, Key to Heaven

Fall Into Your Thirst

You thirst and burn, sitting at the well, watching others drink.

But it is not the water that others seek, it is the heat of your heart that is attracting them.

Fall into your own thirst until it become all: the well, the people, the Earth itself in your every breath: in as water, out as fire.



Bettina Madini, Purple Waters

This Poem and Art is available as a Friendship Card.

The Seed Knows

Pushing. The seed knows before it can articulate.

First the pod itself is torn, root tendrils seeking to the core. Then the hungry shoot spiraling to the Light.

So many futures embodied in this restless stirring. Nourish yourself, your vision will nourish so many others.





Helen Klebesadel, "Native Roots"

Gifts Fall from Your Pockets

Look dear friend! The flowers brighten as you walk by.

And the stars smile even behind the winter clouds.


Hide your gifts no longer. They fall from your pockets at every turn.



Bettina Madini, Summer's Promise

This Poem and Art is available as a Friendship Card.

Pieces Fall Away

Hands shaping the wet clay.
Pressing palms, searching fingers.
Rushed to the kiln before its time, so many pieces fall away, finding their place in the discard tray.

Dear friend, we trust your knowing.
Guide us to the jagged pieces,
That assembled, will form the Sema floor.





Helen Klebesadel, "Morels II"

Sweet Fruits

So many sweet fruits you’ve carried to the village press. Never taking one for your self.

Know that your sweetness precipitates from every bone and sinew. It recreates itself in every breath – overflowing all containment – a gift from the Source who patiently waits.








Helen Klebesadel, "Where Are the Bees-I"

The fledgling

The Sema floor squeaks of powder, and the white robes of human sweat. Like the fledgling whose gray feathers can’t quite lift its fuzzy cargo, the spin wobbles.

But that heart, broken, embraces it all. Seeing the Divine in this old practice studio. The turning becomes centered. The bird, so colorful, embraces the sun.




Helen Klebesadel, "Cedar Dance I"

Wedding Blessing #4

Friends: Throw away the feathers and the pipe, the sacred drums and the walking stick; the costumes gathered over the eons.

In your partner lies the true Axis Mundi.

Wedding Blessing #3

So many lie asleep.

As you together gently walk this crowded path,
let the scent of your love awaken those dreaming
of what they were called here to become.




"Ants Love Peonies" by Helen Klebesadel
Original Watercolor Painting
22" x 30
Link to artist's website, click here

Wedding Blessing #2

Cast off the armor, drop that rusty sword.

Deep within lies the true core,
nourished at its roots by your remembered vows.




Bettina Madini, Sacred Flower of Love

Wddding Blessing #1

Brick upon brick, you’ve built the foundation:
Each stone a forgiving, a release, a disciplined choice.

No more heavy lifting! This house is set down from above.
The angels laughing together as the “container is sealed."

for Cleo

Silent guardian of the sacred spring.
Bearer of tea and slippers in the hamam.
Wise mother at our daughters' first mikvah.

Emerging today from your own dry desert baptism,
Your gift shines forth once again.

Gathering under your protecting gaze and open heart, We are ready to fill our cups with the gifts of the Beloved.


Bettina Madini, "Dreaming Willow" (1997)
pastel on paper, 19½"H x 11½"W

Shell Fragments, Santa Fe Birthday

Shell fragments, stones of every hue.
The great sea pushes new jewels over our wet feet.

We stop and admire such abundance.
Remembering to thank that ocean heart whose tidal beat drives this myriad of riches.

You, dear friend have such a heart.

And we, turning to honor you today, are the like those sandy jewels. Our walk: the discovery of your loving intention.

Bettina Madini
SUNSET NO. 2, 2004
Watercolor on paper
18"H x 12"W
Click here for link to artist's website

Sacred Songs

Selling amulets in the crowded marketplace, few find their way to your gracious table.
Your sweet call drowned by the harsh sounds of commerce and disbelief.

Welcome, dear healer.
In this circle let us be the jewels you fashion into sacred song!

Our voices will be your offering to the Beloved.
As beautiful as those overlooked so long ago.

The Astrologer

The astrologer dances under the night sky.
You listen with esoteric eyes to the rhythms of starlight.

Hungry to capture this divine chorus, you spent years building ever-stronger telescopes.

Now, putting away the lenses and polishing cloths, you teach us the cosmic turns.
Awakening in our hearts the star songs you heard on that distant cloudless night.

Tashbi beads

Sweet creator of divine circles.
Our eyes are drawn to your radiant necklace.
Each bead holding a fragment of the one great prayer.

Connecting them all is the hidden cord of your forgiveness.
Transforming at each knot the tight place of remembered violation.

Passing through our fingers, this tashbi stitches the mothers' tattered shawls into the Beloved's wedding chuppa once again.

for Suria

Small flame resting on the altar.
Your light a pool of presence around the holy of holies.

The portal flies open. What a roar! Books scatter at your feet.

The flame, not candle-bound, spills from your eyes.
Rising and falling at each breath.
Guiding us back to the stillness again.

Small stones

Small stones. Gathered on this journey.

Carefully, you place them on the altar.

Knowing that each reaches back to one you have loved.

Through your act, the Beloved welcomes them all.

Rhea

Tonight the rain sings your name. The pool overflows with appreciations.
The inward spiral has unlocked the ancient treasure chest.

Rituals Interrupted

Old rituals interrupted. You burn, hungry to return to the healing waters.

But this is a different time. Your work is to wait in fullness.

The Goddess will come to you.

The Caravan Waits

You fell. Face down in the dust.
But rise, dear friend!
The caravan did not leave you behind.
Invisible, it waits in silence and respect, for you to lead us once again.

Bettina

Heavy stones, lifted by astral geometries under your wise gaze.
Unfinished foundations in the desert sand.

Another octave this time. Floods of angel dreams pass on to the canvas.
Reminding us of the Beloved's "Hu." The container growing stronger as each image is shared.

Robyn

Take off that old dusty robe! And, the ragged ones underneath.

Cleaning the temple floor is for the novices now. This is a safe place to don the star garments hanging in the entry for so long.



Helen Klebesadel
"Freedom Quilt"
Image approximately 20”h x 16”w.
Click here for link to artist's website

John

Curled against the "dark friend," you fled the body.
Absent the King, the Lover did only what he knew.

With great courage, you faced this outsider, unwinding centuries of rotting "protection."
Finding, not the damaged priest, but the loving monk: your true guide.

for Bill

The artist stands frozen in his studio, held by the cords of unworthiness. "So much beauty to capture, how dare I put brush to canvas," he asks.

His heart answers: "Turn, turn dear friend. In the spinning comes the Beloved through your eyes, painting the world in each breath."

Soul fire

Your soul fire cannot be contained by past promises.

Throat, skin, fingers, burn with trapped intention.

Dip those hands in the healing stream.
All that you touch is eager to bloom.


Helen Klebesadel, "Poppy Field"

for Ann

Dear friend, once you made that loving sacrifice as the cannons shook the trenches, diving through the dust to shield your comrades.

No need today to jump once more on those sharp shards: in-drawing to the birthing place so much sadness.

Hold your light. Now that spirit can grow wise, stepping into that power cut short long ago.

for Wade

A young man walks the land. His gaze unwraps the colors, moves the wind, dissolves the clouds.

Freely gathering blessings, he manifests beauty and confidence in young and old.

for Matt

Your intensity is like a hawk's vision -- finding the crystal of light even in the darkest night.

Swooping and rising. Turning and riding the wind -- what do you seek with such focus?

Know dear friend that your wings dwarf any sky creature's. They are the sun and moon and stars we shall dance under!

Vivian #2

Sitting at the Center, guardian of the subtle realms. Tuning the harmonics. Watching the formation of galaxies, concepts and thought. Resonance through the traditions of the rabbis and scholar-priests.
But the lover calls!

Rushing into embodiment: mother, pirate, slave and master; African rhythms. The old knowledge made alive in song, revealing itself in the painter’s touch, the passions of the city’s streets.
But the scholar calls!

Translator, reclaim your library. Pick up the old texts scattered on the floor. Your heart is woven of many texts, and in your center the harmony forms.
The musician always calls!

It is your container that holds all that arises.
In your peace, the Beloved calls.

Raqiba

Tight-fitting clerical garb.
Your blessing force channeled through ordained ritual.

Now, dancing free. Your field a mirror of the clear night sky.
Yet, anchored in the core. We all gather in the depth of your gaze.

Pamela - Fazl

Walking across the red coals, you turn and smile at the gathered crowd.
All eyes on your feet, few see your furrowed brow.

You hold the karmic lattice steady, allowing blessing to flow forward, down the generations.

In this world, dissonance yields its place as your breath reforms that ancient structure, and those calloused feet dance this time on the soft grass.

for Vivian

Sitting at the cave's mouth, the stream emerges at your feet in mists of sweet harmonies.
Old elementals dance in the reflected sunlight, blessing us from water, earth, fire and air.

Deep pool. The "hu" from which all manifests.
This too is your crowning.
Your breath grounding us in the Now, before all the forms.

I know that your light is already turning the sailor-adventurer, sculptor-poet, back to port once again.

for Jamila

So many lives as a candle -- your light warming the fearful in the quiet intimacy of family life.

This time so bright – a fire, a plume of purple rays, whose sparks move us to dance.


And, under your gentle guidance, our circle too finds its harmony in the universal “hu” flowing through your fingers and loving glance.

Matreia/Jon

Painter, sculptor, potter, carpenter –- the form dances incomplete, awaiting your gaze.

Dancing, your music draws us to the gate.
Turning, all is the Beloved.
Trusting, we will cross into that still shimmering vision!

A temple, not of men or women, gods or religion, is your yet-unopened gift.

Marjorie-Karima

Deeper, the root filament bores its way to the moist place whose sweet song echoes through the hard clay.

Unwinding, the leaves lap the sun, swaying with the wind. Casting shimmering shadows, cooling the dancers gathered below.

That dance, yet to be, draws us closer.

Our hearts, knowing no future or past, bless root and leaf as one.

Raffia

Sitting in rags, silently you watched the crowds at the temple door.
Each received a mazoub's true blessing.
Unaware and ungrateful, as they rushed by...

Now, in clean and sweet-smelling robes, every doorway bows and opens to your light.
No structure can hold your heart's desire.
Your worship has no roof or walls.
The holy of holies resting safely in the truth of your gaze.

Darakshan

You walked the old battlefields, watched the transport trains arrive, smelled the burning flesh.

And now, the fire once again!

This time, you are the kiln, without whose flames, the potter's vessel is but decorated dust.