Please Be There

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 . . .

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

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

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

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?

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

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