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Zoomuse with Ahmad Miles, 4 September 2020

Zoomuse with Ahmad Miles

You can read the first poems from his Zoomuse reading here:


May all of us, all sentient beings,

Feel better today, our aches and pains less.

May we be the root, the trunk, the branch, the leaf and the blossom.

May our voices be the gull’s cry

and the silence of the trees.

May we sail our ships into the mystery.

May we see the horizon, and the stars beneath our feet.

May we be surprised by our own hearts and may

jubilation gurgle in our bellies.

May we know and be more deeply known.

AMOR DEI (April 27th 2013)

there is a deep rhythm playing,

playing beyond my skin,

beyond my organs,

beyond my blood,

playing beyond the night and the day,

beyond my ancestors,

beyond the mystery and the future.

it comes to me in the silence,

after hours of mutterings and stumblings,

after miles of walking one way and then another.

It comes after everything is finished

and all the outside is gone.

when it comes,

I rush to it with my whole heart,

like a man running from a train

down the platform

to meet his lover.

when it comes,

I know I have called,

without knowing I called.

when it comes,

it feels like it's always been there,

waiting for the right moment,

a surprise just around the corner,

something to bump into,

something that burns into my heart,

that drinks up my tears,

that knows the whole story.

when it comes,

I can stop,

I can sit down, and

close my eyes.

I can smile,

I can listen,

as if my body has left itself

by the warm dock,

by the shading tree,

by the wise mother.

I never want it to end,

this vast huge pulse

soaring through my veins.

I never want it to end,

this mountain

breaking through the sky.

I never want it to end,

this waterfall pouring

down into the endless depths

of oceans within oceans.

everyday I want my voice to tell this story.

every day I want my eyes to see this path.

every day I want my ears to hear

this unimaginably beautiful song.

in my hands

to hold this star,

this child,

this jewel,

this lotus.

I never want it to end.

I want to sing it,

I want to become it,

I want it to become me.


“We’ll go because it’s Thursday, and we’ll go to wish everybody a Very Happy

Thursday. Come on, Piglet.” (House at Pooh Corner, A.A.Milne)

Measuring the hours and the days

I risk losing the joy

of this moment.

Measuring life by the business of my mind

I risk losing myself.

Looking with the outside eye

only gives the outside vision,

the surface tension beneath which

the current flows and the unseen fish

finds its way.

At what point does the constraint of circumstance

lose its magnetism

and I, a boundless soul,

am released, in free fall,

to dance like a dervish,

to smile upon the face of the Beloved?

Can it be today,

as I drink my breakfast coffee

and gaze upon the ocean?


I am sitting on the wooden bench.

Nobody here.

In the wind the garry oaks bow

down to the earth

even as they reach for the heavens.

The spruce dances, arms aloft,

before the mazy sky.

The foxgloves, the yucca, the lilies, the rosemary,

all the tribes are the chorus to this

arboreal performance.

Underneath, slowly, silent to my ears,

the roots reach for one another,

an invisible communion,

blessing their own creation above.

Who are we?

We are all here.

LES MÛRIERS September 2018

The two mulberry trees,

lovers embracing overhead

create a haven of shade

for those of us below.

The breeze threads its way

through the trees

through my mind.

It sweeps clear all the spaces,

all the openings.

I have nothing to do.

The quail quieten my voice;

The sky stills my movements.

Lucianne’s nude, a fertility goddess,

stretches beneath the sun

and invites me to be.

My legs are heavy now

as I walk beyond the house

up the baked path of Les Mûriers

carrying plums

after tea with my friends.

The sun illuminates everything

even the shadows are radiant here in Provence.

The silence has its voice as well as the trees.

My laboured breath still adds something

to the fig trees, the apple and pear

the rosemary bush.

The depth of silence returns me to myself.

My eyes see,

My ears hear.

My brain is empty,

a comfortable place,

like a well-loved tale.

Here in Léonard’s suite

beauty, a refugee, has found a home.

The 15th century cupboard door

the exposed ceiling beams

the embroidered cushions and Persian carpets.

Is it an oasis?

I don’t care.

I plunge into this ocean

and go where it takes me.


In the autumn stillness,

the garden dying before our every step.

Parvati has invited me to dig up gold

buried eight years deep in her garden.

Our spades signal our intent.

The gold, concealed,

illuminating the darkness

is brought into the light.

Shining and shimmering the coins

flow into her hands.

The ancient Chinese sages tell us,

autumn’s symbol:

gold within the earth,

the hidden wisdom of ourselves.

Is her hidden treasure

finally surfacing

for all to see?

And are she and I witnesses

to the changing time,

the deeper measure

of her next step?


Oh, you binders of the earth!

You who anchor life in the land and in me;

Whose generosity creates a shelter even for strangers

And a safe harbour for many,

How do you see us?

I know of people, even children,

who tell me you speak of the origins of the world

to those who can listen;

who have been guided by you,

in seeming silence and seeming stillness,

through the snow to safe harbour.

Can we recognise you as our elders?

Even the pencil hums

when you play with the wind

and sing your songs of

ancient beginnings and of futures yet to come.

My Cree wife who was,

would go out in the night,

into the forest,

amongst the dormant plants,

the bears and the cougars,

and sit peacefully

with her night tribe,

the great arboreal people

who shared what can only be shared

in the dead of night:

the deep darkness which, alone,

knows your name.

She was clad in the wisdom of the trees.

She was clad and masked in cedar bark and spruce root.

Her cedar mask closed her outer eye

and her inner eye opened.

RASHAD January 21 2018

A soul scout

scanning the far horizon.

The foot always always on the road ahead.

The easy smile and the hard knowing.

The unspoken question:

“Do you have the courage?”

while the lips spoke only love.


About Ahmad

"I live in Victoria, Vancouver Island, British Columbia, Canada. I was opened in Vancouver in the summer of 1977. I have three magnificent children. I have been a practitioner of the inner tradition of acupuncture for almost 35 years. In 2015 I published a book about ancient Chinese perspectives on health and well-being entitled “Tao of Well-Being”. I am happiest when I am on my bike. I have been a life-long supporter of Manchester United Football Club and all that is beautiful."

- Ahmad Miles

The "TAO of Well-Being" by Ahmad Miles

"The Transformation of Suffering into Health. Tao of Well-Being provides a very important key with which to unlock the healing and transformative perspectives and practices of ancient China and make them accessible to us in the 21st century. Ahmad Anthony Miles' core principal and strategy of the Meeting Place gives an immediate, practical and accessible way to engage with health issues, life changes, and the ordinary circumstances of living so that we are empowered to heal and to transform ourselves to become who we truly are - noble, sacred and beautiful beings".

You can read more about Ahmad, his work and his book "TAO of Well-Being" here.





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