Tag: Presence

Chirps

by Jane Tawel

Unsplash — Isaac Quesada 

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Chirps

by Jane Tawel

October 14, 2025

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My Dear Child,

My baby,

My heart and life — 

The second you left my womb, we were separated.

No longer the chirps of your small heart would be embraced

so close to mine that our hearts were as one.

And just so, I was separated from You, Oh, God,

the moment I left Your Womb.

And now my heart searches for the Beat of Your Heart,

to be so close as to be One Beating Heart.

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The bird outside my still-dark window

Chirps on the beat.

On the beat of the second hand — he chirps.

On the beat of my heart — he chirps.

On the drumbeat of my ever-pounding heart and mind — he chirps.

On the tick-tock of my since-birth-impending-death — he chirps.

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And dawn begins her shallow light — 

a poor substitute for the Son’s power.

Now my little bird is silent –

Where has he gone?

And I am present in this moment.

And I am present in my life.

And I am present in the Now.

Until the rights of the Risen Sun call me to action.

But in this last moment between night and day,

In Perfect Stillness,

I seek presence in You, O, God.

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The sun, I believe, is in full-blare mode,

but I don’t know for sure, as I plan away my day.

The chirps of many birds make me aware

of all the business of finding our daily bread.

And I am lost in Time again.

Lists of things to do and do.

Lost in things to plan or shun.

Lost in things ended or not yet begun.

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Chirp-chirp. Tick-Tock.

Time to dig in the dirt for worms.

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The cacophony of the many chirps has begun.

I cannot give them all my attention.

Can I for just a moment,

Listen closely to what is already within myself,

and the small, silent gifts of my own spaciousness?

Can I find The Womb in me?

And cradle the little baby trusting in me to grow?

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Between each call of bird-song,

there is the Still Small Self — 

The Self that calms the many siren calls

of this illusory world.

And I for just one precious, peaceful moment — 

even in the blinding, deafening darkness of the Day,

Float in the Heavens prepared for me

in Love’s Embracing, bracing freedom,

set for me before the beginning of the World.

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But Time and Space so cruelly clip our wings.

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And yet, I have once or twice seen that it is True,

that the Whole Cosmos beckons

in the still small voice heard only in darkness.

The voice of God comes only before the Dawn.

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Just as my grasping, pecking beak

hunts for another worm to save for tomorrow,

The world begins to close Her curtain on the Sun.

And I have a choice –

Continue to hunt for treasures I can not eat now

nor save for tomorrow?

Or return to The Nest and rest?

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The Ground of All Being whispers:

“Return to the Womb. Return to the Womb”.

And all my yearning sleeps

as I Awaken.

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I float in the embryonic wonder of this present moment.

And Our Hearts chirp to the beat of Love and Life.

Separate, no more.

Again, One with You.

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© Jane Tawel, 2025

I Hope to Start Living, so as Not to Be a Ghost

by Jane Tawel

Erik Muller- Unsplash

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I Hope to Start Living, so as Not to Be a Ghost

By Jane Tawel

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I am not in denial,

I just want to live.

And yet I choose death daily –

Not the good kind of death,

Not like the monks or saints — 

Not like Jesus’ advise to take up my cross — 

Not the kind of death that leads to Eternal Life.

No, I choose the kind of daily death,

that keeps me from being aware

of Where I am

What I am

Who I am

Why I am

When I am — because when I am

can only be Now,

and yet — Alas!

I prefer

the pains of the past

and the fears of the future

just of course,

in order to give my ego

something to think about.

If I didn’t prefer not to live in the Beautiful Now,

why would I keep choosing not to?

Without true understanding,

of Who I AM — 

I daily choose death,

because I choose not to be alive.

I am living as if I am already a ghost –

Haunting life — 

when I am called to be Soul,

Hallowing this world.

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If I blame or feel guilt about the past –

I am not living.

If I worry or obsessively try to plan for the future — 

I am not living.

The only time I can live in is — 

Now.

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Ghosts live in the past

and they haunt those present living

because they have no substance any more.

I am so often ghost-like,

haunting my life and the living,

insubstantial in the moment,

even though my body is still here.

When my body is no more –

will only a ghost remain?

Are we not told

by those Ones Who truly lived while they were here,

that the choice of what we shall be hereafter

is the choice we make of

what we are today?

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Ghosts fear the future

because there is no-thing of them in it,

there are no solid actions for them to take

in a time that will never come,

for Time never comes,

but always, only is Here. Now.

The hungry, anxious apparitions that

manifest within me,

the phantoms of my psyche

whose endlessly hungry, disembodied maws,

which I continually feed today

will disappear before tomorrow.

All their sound and fury,

signifying nothing — 

will Evaporate — 

Poof! — 

No Thing will remain.

Ghosts leave no trace.

Only meaninglessness remains behind.

The only meaning we ever have

is found only when we awake to

this precious, divine moment.

Ah, Breath of Life! How Good it is to taste and see!

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I woke up –

and realized that when we are told,

“The Kingdom of God is within you”,

It means we choose now –

What we are and

What we forever shall be.

And there is instruction in that.

And there is also a tiny seed of Hope.

Shall I live as a ghost or as Spirit?

In Spirit as in Truth?

In Spirit, IS in Truth.

And the only True Truth,

the only Truth that I can know,

is this hallowed Present, Precious Moment.

What I shall be is what I am.

Forever begins Now.

Shall I be a Holy Spirit?

Or continue as I am

and be a ghost?

The choice is mine.

While I yet live,

the choice is mine and Thine.

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“Awake, my soul!

Make music!

Sing!

Awake, my glory!

I will awaken the dawn.

I will live a life of praise,

for steadfast Love

and faithfulness,

is great upon the Earth,

and reaches to the Heavens.”*

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“Every morning,

when we wake up,

we have twenty-four brand-new hours to live.

What a precious gift!

We have the capacity to live in a way that these twenty-four hours

will bring peace, joy, and happiness

to ourselves and others.

I vow to live fully in each moment,

and look at all beings with

eyes of compassion.” **

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“Stand by the roads,

and look,

and ask for the ancient paths,

where the good way is;

and walk in it,

and find rest for your souls.”***

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© Jane Tawel, 2025

*Psalm 57:8

** Thich Nhat Hanh, “Peace in Every Step”

***Jeremiah 6:16

The Endless Gift of Lavender

by Jane Tawel

Meditation 1 on Lavender:

Each day, I will seek to find at least one Good thing. Today, I have two: a gift from the Red Cross for something so easy for me to do but so Good. And a reminder of the lovely, lovely world on my doorstep. The beautiful (and my favorite) lavender was a gift from Clarissa, my beautiful much loved daughter. And it is a daily haven and heaven and gift for my dear, dear friends the bees.

Meditation 2 on Lavender:

Reminders in an attitude of gratitude and the Spirit of Presence and further meditations on the glories of a lavender bush: 1. The world is full of beauty, love and hope if “those who have eyes to see will see”. 2. If God provides for the little birds, how much more will we have all we need if we only need “just enough” — our daily, momentary “bread”? 3. Our five senses are the most amazing treasures — time for this child to learn to stop squandering them and enjoy all the present gifts they continually offer. 4. Birds and plants are just so cool and great.

© Jane Tawel, 2025

Do Not Let Them In, They Are Not Here

Untitled by Anonymous

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Do Not Let Them In, They Are Not Here

By Jane Tawel

September 16, 2022

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She is not here now.

And when you let her in,

again and again,

you reveal your true insanity.

Not being part of

any true reality,

her presence has driven you mad.

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He is not in this space.

But you have flung open

the entrances to your mind,

and now you have to face the fact,

that though you have allowed

the thief of your peaceful thoughts

almost constant habitation there,

he is dead,

(or would be if you killed him).

Allow him to die an honorable death.

Kill him gently

without leaving too much blood

on the floors in your house,

and then clean up the mess.

Remember he only came because you bid him come

and then blamed him for leaving grey scum

on the walls of your mind’s home.

He does not live here today,

and need not live in the home of your heart

any more.

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They come disguised as cleaning crews,

or helpful guests and family,

pretending to help

with the cleaning-up of calamities

or of my misunderstandings,

but my need for them, not withstanding,

it is a relationship of lies.

For thoughts are just a house of cards,

if peopled by things one cannot see with eyes,

or hear alive in the world that exists outside the mind,

or touch with skin to skin,

feeling the softness of your cheek or the cheek of a ripe peach,

or made with something I can taste or drink

or move with the circles of my speech.

All that would dwell in the shadows

of my darkened house, filled with the

blood-suckers that would steal awakening joy,

these are nothing more

than dust motes of past emotions,

or the fogs that roll in from the future but don’t stay — 

Oh, all of this is nothing of me

in just this place — this day.

Yes, I have invited all of you not really here,

under false pretenses.

But trying to make you feel at ease as my mind’s guests,

serving your phantasmagorical hungers

from the hard labors

of the meals of my perceptions and attachments,

I feel like an alien in my own home.

The people I let in,

who do not really live here in my space,

are dirty and rude

because I allow them

to mess up that within

the home of my heart

and that which should be hallowed

in the hallways of my mind,

and still I find

it is hard to say good-bye to them.

And all that is meant to be preserved for my good,

is filled with the flood,

and mud of thinking on and on and on

about things that are not present now.

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Do not let them in; they are not here.

Kick them all to the curb;

and prohibit them from

the treasure-room of yourself.

Those who used to live here,

or have not yet been born to you,

must take their place

with the other hallucinations

that your mind would create.

We all hear voices.

And yet, we do not stop our ears,

against those who would crash us on the shores,

of wasted energy and emotions

of all and anything that is not love.

Why, oh why, do we feel guilt,

when we release those

who do not live with us today,

those which we would cling to from yesterday,

or yearn or fear for in our tomorrows,

tomorrows which should remain unimagined?

We must stop our remembering

and our imagining,

as we dream of and with only those present,

in the here and now,

dreaming them in the reality of today.

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Let all of them,

all but your best present-presence,

and that which is only alive in you for just this day,

leave your home,

and live where they belong,

in the house of the dead.

Let those who are not here,

take-up their residence where they belong,

and reside no more in your now

where only you

can see God and live.

Yes, there is enough space for only you,

your very present God, and you,

your home, which is yourself.

Be still

and only know this moment

and only in this moment, know

the Truth.

And let all others go.

Set them free.

So that your true self

is not housed,

but truly sheltered.

And Love will then

find plenty of room,

to fill the empty spaces,

that ghosts and chimeras have left behind.

In your home,

may all your past and future

no longer look to you

for tents of understanding build on bogs.

And in the only place you ever need,

the place in you that you call home,

the home that is yourself,

may you live forever-now

in peace.

© Jane Tawel, 2022