The Guru has Claws

When did simple
Get so complicated?

Years of training - 
Rubble piles of practices 
That spit their "shoulds"
Like vipers.

Meditate! 
Hurry up and
Be here now. 

Galactivate!
Ascend this realm,
Travel to the astral plane
And listen to your guides. 

Go poly, that's another path
Let's complicate our
Sex some more - 
Turn-on the way to God. 

Relate for real - 
Authentically.
Circle up and process
Everything - 
I feel, you feel, We Are.  

And at 5 o'clock
When the sun drops down
And curls up on the sofa,
Can we practice
What we practice for?

Can we get simple,
Get breathing,
Get juicy,
Get vast,
Get quiet,
Get grounded,
Get now?

Can we do it alone,
When no one is watching?

Can we do it without
Being asked?
Without asking? 

Can we stop being 'good',
Can we bury our stories?

Can we draw some clear boundaries
With distinction addiction?

And might we feel bliss
Without writing
It's poem? 

Not yet, we confess,
As we share this
On Facebook. 

But someday, we hope 
To finally arrive, 
Burn our selves
In the fires
Of our myriad trainings,

And melt with the cat
That purrs on our chest
Teaching all we have lost
To our seeking.