The day

we peel away

the tentacles of belief

will be the day

we discover

that unwavering ray

of truth.



© 2020  Betty Hayes Albright 


A timely reminder from the mystical poet, Rumi.
Thank you for sharing it, Mariam.

The Coddiwomplers Cauldron

“Light dawns, and any talk of proof resembles a blind man’s cane at sunrise.

Remember the passage,

We are with you wherever you are.

Come back to that.

When did we ever leave it?

No matter we’re in a prison of forgetting or enjoying the banquet of wisdom, we are always inside presence.

Drunkenly asleep, tenderly awake, clouded with grief, laughing like lightning, angry at war, quiet with gratitude, we are nothing in this many-mooded world of weather

but a single brushstroke down, speaking of presence.”

*The word Allah in Arabic begins with a strong downward mark.”

~Maulana Rumi, from Coleman Barks’ A Year with Rumi

View original post

A timely message for all humanity… Thank you, Val ❤

Find Your Middle Ground


Wisdom from Adyashanti worth repeating. Written before 2016.

“In no way can I deny the insanity of the human condition. And yet, because there’s so much insanity, so much unconsciousness, it’s possible that there’s also the other side of it.

Life is always balancing itself out.

So, while all of this is happening, there’s also this undercurrent of people all over the place who have a deep and profound interest in the ultimate nature of reality in themselves—and they are realizing it!

Not only is that now happening among a wider variety and number of human beings, it’s also happening more and more outside of hierarchical institutions.

I think there’s something within all of this, something very authentic, that’s breaking down the barriers between every person and our ideas of what a spiritual person is. It’s sort of a silent, quiet revolution that’s happening.

But even though there’s a lot…

View original post 95 more words



She dares to rise

through molten rock

cutting loose

from the unforgiving core

of gravity

free of the burning bush

and the howl of the tempest.


Into the open sky she flies

past moon and sun,

the spin of stars

beyond the fabled edges

of the cosmos


until no longer up or down

nor right or left

she spirals forth

into the numinous arms

of the Beloved.



© 2020, 1976  Betty Hayes Albright 


(A revised version of an old poem from 1976.)



Pecking poppy seeds

chickadee does not see me.

Old cat sees us both.



(c) 2020  Betty Hayes Albright


Image from Pexels.com






Little garden pond

longs to be round as the sky —

Moon reflects on that.



(c) 2020  Betty Hayes Albright


(Image from copyright free source in 2012)


By Design


On the walls

of the Great Divine

our soul-prints adorn


all-ways expanding

ever creating


for we are the artists

and we are the beholders

and we are the curators


in kaleidoscope halls

beyond the reaches of time.



(c) 2020  Betty Hayes Albright




On waves of teal sea-shine

we catch a glossy ride

to chase our lost horizons

and race the rising tide.


We lean to gather white-caps

and taste their salty plumes

till purple weaves a blanket

and wraps us ’round the moon.



(c) 1992, 2020  Betty Hayes Albright



Eternity came calling

on me one day

with her childlike face

and her kind, ancient eyes.

She laughed at the way

I danced to the ticking

of a mere clock

and said in a voice

that tinkled like moon chimes,


“Come let me show you

the land of Right Now,

a place that’s free

from the chains of your time.

It’s a world where the sun

shines from truth’s eye

and the smile on my face

will fill you with peace.”


I followed a minute

but then a loud whistle

stopped me in my tracks.

Tomorrow perhaps —

it was noon in the valley

and I would be late.


I headed downhill

but turned to look back

at her beauty once more

and found she had vanished

into Everywhere.



(c) 2020, 1969, 1965  Betty Hayes Albright


Written in high school, 1965. Published in chapbook “Living Color”, 1976; previously posted here in 2014.

This is a newly revised version. I guess it’s about time! 😄




He liked two things

when he came to our house:

his Buzz Lightyear placemat

and the scent

of Jergens cherry-almond

by the sink.


          We judge the addict

          who will do anything

          for his next fix.


The last time he came

he was 16

and we had pizza

and he wanted to use

the worn-out placemat

for old time’s sake.


          We look down, look


          close our eyes.


He said he was reading

The Catcher in the Rye –

a favorite of mine, I told him

as he was leaving.


             We pretend that we don’t see –


             until it’s our own grandson

             who dies of an overdose

             and our hearts break apart.


When he is gone

I wash my hands

breathing his presence

in the scent

of Jergens cherry-almond

by the sink.


           We don’t always recover

           from the underlying condition

          of being young

          and oh so invincible.



© 2020  Betty Hayes Albright


(This is about my dear grandson Jacob who died last March at the age of 24.)



%d bloggers like this: