Tuesday, December 25, 2012

my little trailer in the snow

my little trailer in the snow, vibrating with the fan of the tiny heater pulsing away on low wattage setting, the air still cool where im breathing but my feet in two pair of wool socks are warm. i havent succumbed to long johns yet, too bulky for regular life, but they sit nearby for when its necessary. i live on my usual diet of raisin bread toast and peanut butter, coffee, yuban mixed with mexican exspresso drip poured through my tiny broken handled black plastic #2 cone, survivor of too many adventures and travels to remember. i exalt in the whiteness of this christmas morning, clouds already settling in for another round of storms. the variety has been amazing, first the thick wet snowflakes that melt on contact, then as it cools down further the small precise flakes that build up and squeek under your boots like talcum powder, then the thaw after 3 days and the frozen ice and crusted top that breaks sharply with each footstep. the air is alive with the chill and every breath is a reason to wake up and experience this moment. theres no running water in the trailer, so there are frequent trips to the house, a little A-frame ski chalet type sitting on the edge of empty hills covered in snow drifted sage bushes. the 5 thousand plus feet of elevation is dwarfed by the massive eastern sierras across the lake looking west, inundated with snow, the ski lifts at nearby Mt. Rose all in operation, and the distant peaks of Mammoth buried in white snow measured in feet not inches. the world continues everywhere, slipping and sliding getting stuck and staying put for 12 inches on the valley floor wreaks havoc with the excitable christmas shoppers all through reno and carson city. its a winter wonderland and every shade of light and color shifts the granduer and majesty of this natural wonder of mountains and hills and lakes and ranches, dotted with colorful glowing holiday lights and decorations. here its a bit more somber, but the love is within and always pulsing with its own reassuring energy, love for all and everything, acceptance and grace, peace and joy abiding and joined to celebrate within and without this holiest of christmas days.

Saturday, December 22, 2012

i have lived so long alone

i have lived so long alone, in my heart, letting only one be and all others just a visitor to their own self. the truth within is the gateway to the self that has no other. to be that even the gateway is to be alone, and the weight of that realization is a truth, solitary, existent as space, containing all but not a part of any. to its door and through each pass but none can remain as the pull is too strong leaving no one. a door has no place neither in nor out, both are there but the door is neither. as i pass through the light envelopes me and i like the great worm swallow myself and disappear endlessly even as i continue to swallow. there i realize the distortion creates the doorway, the incapacity for leaving and the service to all to allow the passage, create the opening within that channel,each soul in turn through and into their own self they disappear, strengthened, disturbed, elated, crushed.each from my wormhole into their own and from there a world that has no door but a brightness and some clarity where before the mind cluttered and thickened shuttering the opening. i sit upon a rock my back resting upon the hard outcropping of the flesh and contemplating the convergences of matter and time and energy that creates all, and the finality that life presents as if this will be forever and not just a lifetime. what can i do for others is now all that matters and what is before me is where to start. i contain the space of eternity and the moment that dashes too quickly, inside the universe has no end and outside i feel the finiteness dying over and over. the mind cannot be here for nothing is controlled or planned, nothing managed or organized by me. the truth is an intelligence and love and supreme awareness that no mind can imagine and the heart can only respond to, surrender and love, compassion and truth, for what am i but the child, filled with wonder and living a dream that never ends.

Friday, December 21, 2012

as the world ends around me

as the world ends around me, the frayed edges of my threadbare existence take on a luminescence akin to what used to be the anticipation of the holidays. theres the slow anticipation, the wondering the magic of the final arrival, then the hurried and gleeful celebrations and presents followed by a slow orgy of self indulgent relaxation, as if all this fun was somehow tiring or needed time to be stretched out and enjoyed fully. now is the aftermath of that and the realization that this is all that there is. the day in and day out of life without presents or celebrations for the human, but inside the heart is alive with the absolute certainty of life eternal in each microbe and star cluster, in the planets aligned or misaligned, the sun risen or fallen, all miracles of incalculable and precious worth. even my slumber is the movement of galaxies and the slow turning of seasons and certain change. for the moment that i return to my human self, i exalt in the majesty of the universe and its wondrous nature to bring this form and consciousness into being here in this eon of ages of creation, I am and shall never cease, for what light is cast is cast upon us all and never shines but to show the way within to all the creation, to end the suffering of unconsciousness and find eternal being in each souls journey. we work eternally to release the soul from bondage and every heart rejoices when one is lifted truly from the yoke of human desire and pettiness.be alive and follow the light within and without resistance for love is the guide to unending joy and truth, a world without walls and a life without end.

Thursday, December 20, 2012

the stratagem of self analysis

the stratagem of self analysis no longer seems valid, the self looking into the self, the nature of the relationship has gone away. the question has shifted from who am i to really what am i. this unformed being, the flowing presence and unchanging stillness. there is no name for it and the self has no relation to it, there is a self, it interacts and converses albeit without the usual constraints or shared feelings of the other. there is no sense to continue a process that no longer has a valid object, its like a sentence that has no noun, no object to describe or quantify. who i am is defined by the relationships and attachments that have all been pulled apart, and at the center what they attached to is no longer viable. its a gauzy fuzziness where there used to be a thing. now theres the presence and nothing else is running things. what arises is what is paid attention. there is no plan or purpose or meaning, just the track of the pattern emerging without me creating or deliberating or analysing it. i am here because there is no me to decide, its done for me, its the obvious thing because its what is and not what isnt. If any good could come of dissecting how i got here or what it means or why it happened but there isnt, theres just the moment looking out at what there is and nothing else is making it go, the engine is gone, just the vehicle remains, everything is interior to the framework the viewpoint, the context, theres no here here its not a relationship to any point within and theres nothing beyond. all things come from here but nothing is here. the sense of looking at something that would be the self is like examining the shoe to understand the trail, the mountains the unexperienced expansion and blowing away of all sense of what was there before. the tornado has taken all that was and looking at the scraps on the ground wont recreate the home and life that was lived there. how the presence exists and is regardless of what the body or mind experiences is a mystery that no amount of examination can reveal. one can simply stop and in that stopping the endless truths make themselves known and what i thought of myself becomes an impossibility and nothing it can create remains. there is a tremendous relief and an unfailing truthfulness in its demise, and with it a sense of constant surprise and wonder. all that is, is possible and everything brings a newness that never dulls.

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

the carelessness of nature

the carelessness of nature masks the unrelenting structure of chaos directed by a supreme intelligence realizing nothing can be prevented and all things are ordained and when brought together under the light of supramental energy become the divine design of all creation acting everywhere at once without ceasing. for the truth is the unceasing reality of existence, the illusion that what is being experienced is completely and unquestionably solid and inescapable. as snow falls and trees grow and animals flourish and the earth rotates and precession aligns the rays of the sun to be in harmony with the requirements of the inmates of the earthly plane so are we veiled to not see the ultimate expansion of awareness required to participate in the collaboration of all the universal forces that take on the finite existence in partial form yet with all the power of the entire creation and its endless formations perfectly combining and propeling  human consciousness to seek union and clarity that cannot be mentally captured but in some portion of the consciousness  existing across all vital, physical, mental and psychic planes and exceeding all combined there is the experience of existence as the propulsion of discovery through limited faculties to a grander whole that is both complete and unfinished for the unmanifest portion has no comprehension and can never be managed from this existence. external to all and beyond the senses and their desensitizing filters there is the profound deliberation that extracts unknowable truths and sifts them through this particulated existence and diffuses them through waves of amplitude and frequency that exceed all and can never be experienced in the triple bodies surrounding human consciousness. it is only when the human form is divinised through exposure to the universal and extraterrestrial forces and the system is free to expand beyond the known and compressed awareness of the unrealized self and its comprehension of self as form and limitations, then can become the exploded nature filled beyond capacity with light and force and perfect harmonies of unseen and superamental beings that create and sustain all as the mystery beyond brings everything from nothing and then destroys even the possibility of creation and the unreasonablity of divine manifestation. for man is not the limited one or the one that has questions that cant be answered without some divine power intervening. one word has created all and one power can bring all to its probable demise and within that calamity of life all liberation is made possible and released into existence as surely as all bondage is made human and meant to be not suffered but broken and uplifted, not as man but as the superman that has no allegiances but to the divine that cannot be known or pictured but only aspired to. possibilities that become anything set bondage upon the idea of self, the self that is all and unlimited and brings to every being its sense of living force and unstoppable awareness and unthinkable emptiness. life is a drop of that which is complete, satisfied, generous and truthful, that allows everything and sustains without complaint or question, every possibility and failure as well as unquestionable success. let nothing be the final destination and the journey everlasting.

Wednesday, December 12, 2012

that which is living is yoga

that which is living is yoga, conscious or unconscious. when done consciously you feel the connection of the universe to your inner being and you feel that the outer world and the inner world are the same substance, in different form. the breath is you from within the inner being entering the outer existence, the expansion of self into the world of manifestation and immeasurable diversity, then bringing that external energy into the internal silence and joining the source and the creation as one force one flow one energy that can never be finished yet always in balance from absolute stillness and silence to unending multiplicity and expansion. the body serves as the mediator, the membrane between the two realities the duality of being and non being, the perfection and the ideal from which only truth becomes untruth through the separation of consciousness and the resulting journey to reunion. each movement is connection and disconnection, alignment and falling away, the complete acceptance and then rejection of all that is internal and external as every molecule is in an unending dance with every other molecule. a romance and then divorce, a coming together and a rebirth, division and then multiplication of all senses and feelings and awareness that creates all potential and makes actual its possibilities and negative links with positive and all conduction and repulsion are felt. in every touch and sight and holding and letting go the yoga of being is unfolding. every breathe every step every thought is the union of being with itself and examination of what is and is not in this moment becoming and having become falling away. to hold and release we give and take all our living energy and mix it inexorably with all the energies that bring life and let it create unending. we are that force and all force in the body is yoga.

Tuesday, December 11, 2012

truth has no witness

truth has no witness, it alone exists and all else falls away from its purity as the smoke from a lamp. what creates the force is not the source but the impurities thrust upon it that have no truth in them, these are the fuel for the flame that burns eternally for all that comes must go and in that process are all energies brought in to being and dissipated. every experience is the truth taking hold of its form examining it and burning away all that is not its own. we are that, set to burn with the internal flame, lighting up all that is pure and divine and burning all that is not. we are the burning souls, the core of truth wrapped in that which cannot contain or merge with truth and so must be discarded. life is accumulation and death is the removal.to undergo the removal during life we must catch the fire and only from a realised being bringing the force of grace can that fire light and do the work of the divine dissolution. no one is pure no one is complete no one is any part of the divine work until the fire lights, until only that thought guides their life. and in that living is the death of the undivine and the end of what cannot persist beyond the end of form and self realization. as the lamp is just the holder of the flame and must be lit before any useful purpose is realized so is the human form empty without the divine fire burning within. and once the fire is lit, the form is not the fire is not the reason to exist but it is necessary to bring the fire to each and every soul, to hold the promise and be the example of what flesh is born to become, for each of us is the flame burning, but all are the dirty lamps lacking the oil of aspiration, the wicks of devotion, the fire of consciousness focused on the brilliance of the unknowable source of being, the divine grace the heart of the pure form conscious on earth filled with that divine force that acts as the lamplighter for all others, that sacrifices all human thoughts and deeds for the service to the divine and all beings yearning for the lamp within to be lit.

Thursday, December 6, 2012

nothing is required

nothing is required. truth like a mote of sunlight carries everything within its beam. we exist not in the dimension of the dust floating but in the transcendence of the medium of the light.it is not in the experience or the identification of that experience or its source or its lack of source that there is any shift but rather in the absolute end of any feeling or thought of what or who is having this existence. the form conscious of self exists beyond the sense of god or source or truth. it creates a bubble of existence relative to everything else. the mind and feelings position and evaluate everything and cast its identity upon everything or rather on its own reaction and experience of everything. there is nothing known but the self and self is that which has no connection to the source or the god or even the knowledge of what that is. for there to be no self, there can be no connection,. no feeling no energy of the self. you realize nothing and exist in non reactive space. where this is, is dimensionless, has no ownership or guidance. the now is the only marker and it has no set points or edges. in dimensionless existence everything flows through you, it is not subject to comparison or analysis or conjecture. it is the selfless state. nothing is predominate. there is no movement or energy, it feels empty and has no future.the vessel has ceased believing it has a separate state, a separate consciousness, it is the form without content. identity that has nothing to compare itself too, self without any other and without internal feelings. the consciousness emptied and not re identified. in this there is nothing. the idea of reward or meaning or even some thing disappears, the thought of return is lost. only a forward face emerges, nothing behind or to the sides nothing before but what is the flow of emptied forms, meaningless activated by indecipherable means to enter the realm of awareness and then depart. in that moment the sense of self is gone and the relationship with the self and with anything the self connects to is gone.there is a profound sense of loss but that too is empty as nothing remains to know what had been lost. in this stateless awareness,one can only be, senseless to the purpose or outcome, experiencing only the passage the motion, not the content. here no-self exists, and in some imponderable manner, either faithless or existentially passive, there is only the dull passage, the channel of desirelessness and unfulfillity, as echoes of what were come forward and then retreat past and only their vibrations are left. inside a stillness that is deeper than the whole of the earth fills everything. from within there is nothing to color the frameless images that emerge and vanish. finally the world has stopped just as the soul is drained of any color or energy. each step a journey each raindrop a river every breeze the tornado threatening to blow the dried remains away.  here there is only what is sensed as eternity and timelessness, as every day is a life and each night the end of the world. into this emptied vessel what manner of existence flows, what sense of unalterable truth and purity can manifest. who is it that cannot be known by the self or any remnant that would taint the essence of being? awaiting without any sense of time or place, at the intersection of all existence and the source beyond which nothing can exist, alive without living am this that becomes what cannot be held or examined, felt or understood, beyond the reckoning of all senses, he who is that without which nothing can be. imperfect devotion vanished and loves empty chant faded into sublime oneness, and into every particle this wave of being reigns unending and perfected, uplifting that which was separated into that which is no more but is only He and no longer any me to unite or know or become, only transformed perfectly into His unending immanence, transcendence and creation.

Monday, November 26, 2012

the process of giving and taking

the process of giving and taking, both imply the control of the giver and the taker, both are the action of the ego. giving thrusts the gift upon the receiver, it implies the status of the two parties involved, one having and one not, a judgemental action, also taking has no grace, it forces the action, one takes when one cannot resist or must due to the pressure of the situation. in the universe we are not given, for there is plenty everywhere and nothing is given to anyone, any individual, rather all is offered as a plant offers its flower or a tree its fruit, who or when or if receives it is not the action rather the perfect nature of the moment is preserved as all things proceed without any expectations. and what is the process the perfect fulfillment of the offering? acceptance, to experience gratitude and wonder for the bountiful nature of existence and the grace of the supreme provider that all should be present when it is perfectly provided. there is nothing the individual can do to create this perfection for it already is present and exists everywhere. these lives these experiences each and every finite breath is the blessing of creation and the creator the sustaining force of the Mother and the possession of Kali that returns all to the endless primordial state from which we are imagined and brought emptied once more to consciousness and the unreal awareness of the mind, and the connection of the heart where nothing before could be. nothing we can imagine within our tiny brains is real, there is only the constant digression of form and interaction of the three forces of embodied awareness, time space and consciousness, each existing in pure infinity and inexpressible yet in their finite nature the very limitations of human existence, the samskaras of awareness through which all life is formed. where the skin meets the atmosphere we become alive and think that existence is the reality of our experience, yet we are the air and the skin and all that combined and beyond the interface of all things we are the one heart, mind, soul, consciousness that has no consciousness or feeling or thought, that is light without darkness and endless night bereft of stars or destination. the oneness, offers, the unending infinity of form accepts and in that action we become and division emanates from every particle expressing the gratitude of love, the connection to the supreme expressing its infinite self through each and every finite part.

Wednesday, November 21, 2012

karma, the wheel, the millstone rolling

karma, the wheel, the millstone rolling inexorably in its mechanical rotation, crushing all that is placed in its path. from this the wheat is turned to flour and the flour turned to bread and food is eaten and life continues so that more wheat can be planted and tended and harvested, for eons and generations throughout time and place. we have no choice for food must be eaten to live and we must live in order to produce food. but what else is there, food and water, certainly some semblance of family to help with the labor and produce more family and protect what is produced and from this whole civilisations are constructed, and as they grow so too does the appetite and the desire increase. now evolved into beings of great civilised manner and privilege, we have becomes slaves to our technologies and live ordered and patterned lives in order to reap the fruits of others labors. transportation and marketing and clothes and products beyond description fill our lives, and what is it we want, what is it that chains us to our existence. Desire, attachment, need, the pillars of the senses, to have what we want, to experience again and again that which creates pleasure, to feel the rush of  synapses flowing with serotonin and endorphins, our lives become the chase after security and splendor, more wealth and power so we can live beyond all others. even the poorest want and the richest covet, for what is worth more, peace or plenty, since neither seems to exist with the other. even when they do it becomes a struggle to be satisfied with what we had yesterday again today, more and different but the same for change would bring uncertainty and what would that mean for our continued flow of having and hoarding and protecting. all is the play of the divine as each and every wants everything they want and will try harder and harder to keep that feeling alive. and come the day when the body collapses and the soul is released to return to the lower astral plane to reflect upon the life lived and what is there but the attachments and desires and regrets and hatred and fear and loss and continuous feelings of  wanting over and over until there is another body there to enter and return to the world that cannot end. the world of the wheel of karma, that which we are attached to brings us back to reattach and re experience life after life after life. in the lower astral you cannot rise above, release your desires or change your energy, all you imagine is created before you and you are lost in the dreams of what you want and fear and desire, all is like living except nothing can change there, only in the physical can these attachments be worked through and released. if you are dedicated, single pointed in your determination and secure enough to release all control over the process you may in this life attain some realization and go beyond all attachments.become disconnected from all physical desires and fears, realize you are the eternal being and not the physical form, then when you do release the form and go to the lower astral, you will be free to attain the higher astral vibrations of universal light energy being  love, the source of truth that flows through the physical into the finite separateness of physical existence but exists in its pure radiant eternal existence in the the higher realms. only when all physical attachments are gone can this be achieved and the cycle of rebirth finally ended. become the one being inexhaustable, irreducible, birthless and deathless and let all things go, then die in this life while your living, consciously end all attachment to desire, before death comes to your body so that in death, nothing grasps you nothing pulls you back to the world of samskaras.

Friday, November 16, 2012

arisen, compounded

arisen, compounded with unrelenting force, placed gently in harms way and plucked from the abyss, the saturated atmosphere of fear and greed empties as the mountain top emerges into emptiness and solitude. all above is beyond seeing, dimly distant rays reach endless curvature and the emptiness vibrates with potential and possibility. this oneness becomes full as the separated everything collapses and leaves no mark behind. almost a memory fades into a heart filled without end where nothing unmanifesting becomes purity emerging into the density of being, emptying all, creating what cannot be and continually destroying all that remains and restoring the unending flow of nothingness into everything and returning all, one, all done, all everywhere gone and here and never been anywhere and always the totality confuses the portions unconnected and cast away. one sea that drains into itself until empty and full at once and flowing where it cannot begin but never ending in a dance of endless pieces never knowing the works completion or design, just the parts rushing through the manifesting force and all its endless directions. i partake of the multidimensional awareness and still cannot grasp or encompass even a small or large portion of anything /nothing/something all around are the images of what was or will be and there is no center or stability, only fracturing compression and force, driving all before it and leaving nothing in its wake  filling immediately with the debris of the destructed creation recycled infinitely.

Thursday, November 15, 2012

arise and devour the moment

arise and devour the moment, unlit, darkened by nights refusal to leave, morning awaits with  every promise but holding back, not ready to awaken, yet the heart trembles with delight for another day comes and all that is wanted will be there. the food, the sensations, the chatter and interplay of friends. what is life but the singular enjoyment and the working for pleasure where there is nothing. creation is living, bringing the heart into the world, agreeing that this is the moment, the-i am-here-ness, there is nothing else but all of this and what grand illusion is created each instant where there was nothing now love inhabits and manifests its magic. as the mind thinks and turns its attention so does the universe, for each soul is connected to the center of all creation and to its magical power to bring dreams into the stuff of life and fill it with unimaginable beauty. the heart cannot contain its joy as the universe creates all it can ever want everywhere it looks. as the poorest dreams so does the rich man and both are rewarded instantly and completely. what is missing is the intention and consciousness of the creating force within that directs the manifestation without. all things are but the whispers of the divine to entrance the being and fulfill every moment all that can possibly be desired. be not attached for everything is yours and is not, nothing remains but the memory that fades and all becomes the stuff that life is made of. you bring yourself and become that which you desire, on and on and on until only the desire remains and who is feeling is gone, lost in the pile of possessions and more. let loose everything and wash clean the creating tablet of your soul. imagine the universe perfect and all within beings of eternal light embracing the heart of love and filled with the consciousness of endless being.

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

i want to apologize

i want to apologize to my reader for the unforgivable nature of my writing lately. there is no way for me to control it so i just let whatever i am feeling become the words one after another on the page before me, if it makes any sense its not due to my efforts but rather to your highly imaginative nature. for this i am forever in your debt. however, if mine words become even too garbled and disconnected for you to manage please feel free to change them and find your own creation within these scattered vowels and consonants. today is the first day of an existence that has not been wasted getting here. not a second was spent in idle boredom but rather inebriated and medicated for my own safety and surely finally released from the boundaries of worlds less endearing once the sleeper wakened and found the ropes loosened slightly and his captors mysteriously missing. as each rope was cut and wrenched from my flesh either with searing pressure or by some relentless sawing upon a sharpened surface or both, i felt such exhilaration and joy that freedom would be mine and none could keep me from it even if it meant the giving of my life for its vain attempt. what had created this predicament and who had placed such strictures and restriction on me was a dim memory, i recalled huge beings filled with pain and destruction clambering across my vision and feeling the helplessness of a babe just born as they began the process of placing first soft warm wrappings around and around me, comforting initially and then soon i realized tighter and tighter straps were encircling me and movement as well as even breathing became a labor and a chore requiring all my effort and attention to continue and the last i can clearly recall, i was placed practically numb and encloaked in a seat among many like me with yammering noises and threats of failure and painfully practiced recitals of unknown sounds and hiding from the wrath of the black frocked keepers who brandished long sticks and screamed unthinkable sounds for me to remember. soon all became a blur of repetition and fear until i awoke in a factory of bodies all eviscerating them selves for the pleasure of their stomachs and organs, and i too castrated and bleeding internally dying before i had lived still covered in choking strictures and veils, awaiting my turn at the morgue. until now and somehow, painful and slow as it has seemed, the binds are loosed and i am standing finally on my own and breathing with full lungs and seeing with one blurred eye the light and all of the universe beyond and i feel only love and a happiness that must be joy for i have never known any other thing to be so wondrous. it was every second worth this instant of existence for now i know this will never end.

Monday, November 12, 2012

it is always you

it is always you, my heart my soul and my one love, there is no other to imagine but to join with every endeavor, every moment of silence and every song that sings the praise of her love. the world has no place but within us all and can never be separated. each heart beats with all and none can be a lone or apart. what is created is the connection we all feel and know even before we can question what has been given.my eyes flush with tears of joy and no sadness can ever touch them, for all is the divine creation and none can ever be left behind. what is given is the gift of love even where there is darkness a single candle shall pierce the night, and where every bright light glows there all darkness gathers to know its own delight that never ends but in the bringer of the lamp. sitting in meditation, there is no sky or earth or sea but only infinite wonder and timeless delight, all joy swells and moves through everyone and in my soul there is the river of endless journeys and the holder of them all knows no end. where ever i am there is no longer suffering but endless miracles as each becomes the final moment of surrender to the truth of all life, we are the creator and the created the lover and the loved the enjoyer and the enjoyed, we take form and delight in the multiplicity of creation and we go beyond form and revel in the devotion of the one being endless, effulgent and irreducible.

when night illuminates

when night illuminates just as the dawn, when there is only the inner light to see by and none other matter, when silence fills the heart and soul beyond knowing, beyond the measure of sound, when each rivulet and raindrop fills the ocean of your being, then you are becoming the sun and the moon and all the oceans of love and the infinite proportions of all existence, needing nothing, in the one boat that crosses all waters, driven only by the love you can feel in every breath and beauty of everything, then the life divine becomes all and nothing else intrudes to disturb or divert from your intense samadhi of living. the wind and sun bring the force of creation and love, the rain drops manifest each thought and dream, every cloud begins another lifetime and all things explode in bliss. there is no sadhana, no samskara no vital play but only the littlest heart bursting with gratitude and wonder, to be so blessed and loved in every moment and taken to worlds beyond imagining without ever leaving the arms of home and mother and love and all beings of light everywhere in union and magnificent harmony. blessed be each moment and all time and every ray of light that falls on everyone.

Sunday, November 11, 2012

what promises are made

what promises are made and then broken as the world collapses on all, the weight of the unrealized and fallen short, the tried and not so true, the endless torrent of complaint and irresolute posture, where is the hardened staff that will not bend or break, the willows bow that twists and springs back anew countless times, the small yet furiously fast unwavering in their direction. the lost seek yet lose themselves again and again, as they find only what they want and not the light at the end of the world. for no earthly light shines upon this treasure, hidden before all eyes and unseen even in the midday sun, what reflects is all veneer , no substance does it show, the world, its weight unbearable, floats between the prize and all eyes everywhere.if you look through the light show, the movie, the illusory nature of all things where form is the emptiness and  and all else is the reaction of the senses made to bear witness to a terrible truth here and now that every sparkle is no diamond and not all glitters golden or precious, what is unseen has more worth in its unknowable nature than all the tangible truths of the universe, one drop of the elixir  of being, the unseparated truth,beyond the turtles back to back through all of creation resting alone upon the one turtle that is all that can exist and all else but reflections and fun house mirrored images. you are the unfettered truth, the one unuttered and untouched. from your instant of desire rose all the creation to find the source of that need, the molecule of madness that seeks what it is and cannot see its own face, here is the well of all despair and delight, suffering and bliss, false hope and sure determination, the endlessness of the worm devouring its own tail, unfaced and sightless, finding only the fractions and never the whole. from the mountain top all are valleys beyond, and never around this whole world is a station in the sky more than a fall waiting, all things are drawn to the surface, held to the crust, floating in the ocean of bodies, tides of emotion, irresistible urges and unending impulse. the world has no end but the world again and again. the attraction of the light leads to the truth that has no surface no form no end, it awaits your surrender and holds all light within, sees all truth without speaking, the heart is the only path to the soul.

Friday, November 9, 2012

everything clings

everything clings. the universe is attached everywhere to everything, there is only the ascension, the rising above everything that reveals the detachment, the emptiness that cannot be seen from within. it is not one thing or these things or those, but everything that must be removed in order to experience the undeniable freedom of being. what is there that we are that is attached, the need, the desire the game to get what you want, that propels you deeper into the well of samskaras. one action taken with the sense of ownership, reverberates eternally through the protocreation and manifests the endless returning to its reverberating generations of progeny. nothing succeeds but the cut of the blade across the neck and the sure deathless transformation of the soul from life to beyond living, to alter the track of the sensodramatic fulfillment endlessly repeating its wishes and dredging up the world to find the reason they do or wont be granted. all things pass and with them their possessors and all their desires. in the stream of life, only the water is unchanged as the fish live and die eternally, never knowing they are being systematically harvested for the needs of the air breathers, all the surety of the platter awaits, not the fulfillment of aquatic sentiments. the swimming being in the pool of the human vital is a shark or a salmon, a predator or prey, what games are played never change and the endless reproduction does not make it truer or better only more assured that you will also succumb to its ferocious appetites and become the devourer of your own soul, the destiny of your own doom, the creator of your own self deluded fear that nothing will or can ever change.

Tuesday, October 30, 2012

the unbearable beauty of dawn

the unbearable beauty of dawn, the flesh toned temptress laying across the distant hills and trees, fingers of fog drifting through the light, veils across the dreaming heart of endless promise. flaunting the darkness once more as fog descends across all. there is nothing but the ghosts remaining, shrouded sentinels of the woods patient in stillness bristling arms striking poses through the grey lens and returning to a half sleep of the night since gone but morning held at arms length, obedient to the encroaching blankets of the windless wanderers. all is the color of the dream, the memory of the plunge into madness and delight, left behind with the crack of the eyelids and fettered with the truth of a world that refuses to awaken. warm inside the unlit palaces of the common laborer, the hampered domain of parents not gone and unforgotten through ages of civility and damnation treading on waters so deep there is no end to the heartless truth of death or life as decay takes everything but the meager remains stacked on every wall and counter and living through every stick of wooden furniture and memoried article of glass and residues of their light left imprinted in the squares of faces and places from times lost and best forgotten but never let go.even the chair and table here is fierce with its remembrances and pain, the china patterned dishes stacked careless with the plastic squares of the modern world, remnants of a lost childhood remain unbroken through a world of timeless traumas and delights, lost in a halo of frightened thoughts less alive than the mind imagines, but striking chords deep in the heart that can never be loosed without the curse revisited. what mother and grandfather, uncles aunts, children and grandchildrens throughout the ever lasting sequence the holding of the collectiveness and the universal of all children becoming all great grandparents until all is one uncollapsed bridge of eternal sighs and recollections that cannot be separated from this moment or this feeling or anyones consciousness caught up in the world vision of every infinitesimal thought impulse need desire every fear and dream all times for all beings from all places in the one thought that cannot be forgotten that is the meaning of every soul bound to this plane of existence, to be to be to be always being in the drowning of the self that has no end to wanting.

Thursday, October 25, 2012

love of doing

love of doing, the love affair with the world, the flesh made life, all the pretty things, made real with believing, the trust of love that never thinks of itself but plunges without thought into the game. all is the reflection of the truth in which you reside, untouched, dispassionate, removed, yet in one part all is being given, manifesting the endless drama of existence, the acceptance of all shortcomings and failures as real and important just as success and victory seem to be. but there is only the field of awareness and the endless creation upon it, the true being rests in the unending bliss of consciousness manifesting bliss, all existence flowering in unending profusion and certainty, endless love and joy, for nothing can touch the dreamer but the dream and with a moment of realization, the music stops and the lights go up revealing the stage and all the players. no one is there not even you, the universe stops and the being requires nothing, endlessly. here all is one, divine potential and undivine corruption all dissolve into light and from that light the source remains removed and beyond the temporal nature of existence. no human artifice can describe the unknowable yet we are more than human and through that the connection to what has nothing to hold becomes known through the empty heart suddenly filled with wonder. be free of all knowing and doing and all shall be delight.

the world like a round rubber ball

the world like a round rubber ball keeps bouncing in smaller and smaller arcs, one less than the last, and rolling downhill away further and further. the animals of earth trapped in alien machines filled with toxic chemicals, working harder and harder to create artificial life in the artificial environment they call civilisation. the walls, floors and ceilings of crushed inert materials filled with long lasting poisons that they raise their children in, machines of increasingly expensive gadgetry that require greater and greater sacrifice to own and operate, and ensure that each owner is trapped in the world designed only for the movement of the machines, and not for the inward journey of the soul. no one has time to secure their own truth their own intuitive calling, to find the lost kingdom and regain the center of being and the connection to all universal forces. all are in their lost lives avoiding the sadhana the dharma of the soul. for each there is a reason, the poverty, the injustice, the uselessness, all find fault without and fear to find the truth within. the ego has no investment in stepping aside, relinquishing control, letting what will happen when truth is faced squarely, and life as it has been lived is found to be empty. in all the seed is planted, some say there are many without even the seed, that may be, but if you are reading this the seed is already sprouting, to find sunlight and air that is not contaminated with desire and fear, where love holds all beings and miracles are everywhere you look and hear and feel. the playland of the soul is the heart, not the mind, for mind is the separate self, the small nature the limited being, only the heart can feel free and allow the mind to stop. take no action but to move inward and travel the loving journey from the fearful mind, to the open heart.

Wednesday, October 24, 2012

in the arms of the world

in the arms of the world, entrapped and bound, the life of the common man, adrift like the empty containers tossed to the sea, there is no place for the empty self, it has no home or goal or place, it languishes and turns in the wind, unobstructed by walls or shelter. one side is the immovable everything, the other the irresistible suction of the void, the nothingness, the enraptured silence. zephyrs flow through the valleys of decision shooting for release, a crack an opening, the world erected cliffs converge and force upward the flight that cannot end or be contained. no sky abounds above or below the empty sea bottoms and has no place to go, all is stuck and still, the forced and pulled aside, where the flow is free nothing can hold on, all is swept before and behind as the windmills burn in tune to the rhythms of the pulsating thunder and burning fire. the world trembles in the cosmic wind like a leaf in the open range fluttering with the coming peril and the imminent passage, all lives beating like a drum fearing the coming darkness. the road taken is less than it seems and leads to nothing the road not taken goes on forever and cannot be found without naked feet stripped to the bone in flesh that feels dry and twisted. each step another nail another plank another foot closer to the end. one dressed in silence hears the truth another singing walks serenely past, the fall from the cliffs to the rocks of reason and security leaves no passengers behind and only the wind blows further on.

Sunday, October 21, 2012

its incredible to imagine

its incredible to imagine that life and rebirth happen continuously, that all expansion and contraction, connection and rendering separation, consciousness and unconsciousness, all exist basically simultaneously in the human system. only when the system has been purged of all differentiation does the cycling end and the acceptance of any experience become the awareness of all experience as the same, without any change but rather only one shade of color replacing another until all end  in one brilliant whiteness. the world is not the goal of existence,it is the crucible of awareness and the practice field for love. as these talents are explored and perfected the world drops away, the suffering diminishes and the truth is revealed in every stroke of the mystic creator. who you are and what you become and why this happens is no mystery, but the realization of divine love and pure being removes all questions and doubts. to become love, unity, pure awareness everything that was important in human life must be let go, life death, wealth, emotions fear possessions, all become meaningless props for the realization of the truth, after which none of these matter,  dispassion and sense of detachment envelope all sense of the world. what matter the drama of life when life itself has no purpose or meaning except the one to become the divine manifested in human form. all else is a game of murderous infants bent on self destruction. life is not a preparation for death, nor is death the reason to live, one has only to see that the purpose of death is to give the system a break from the life drama it refuses to end or change towards the true purpose. once the life drama is intervened upon, the system removes itself from the play of life and involves the soul in its ancient journey. here is the end of the play and the the beginning of truth, to let go the childishness and become the truth of love and consciousness, not as an ego expanding, but as the self ending and the force and truth and light evolve from within to encompass all that exists within and without the unmeasured space of all existence and from that which never begins or ends.

Saturday, October 20, 2012

time, age, the world shifts

time, age, the world shifts deeper into the background, the seconds keep flowing with the sweep of the hand, life becomes the current and the journey through it a circle of impressions less remembered than imprinted, for the brain cannot maintain the continual activity so what remains is the burned in responses and reactions, the world swirling by only noticed when the light catches a familiar shape or face. everything is reduced to familiarity, the unexpected or unknown encompasses everything else and is unwelcome , home family the wealth of preservance is the foremost, all the remains of a life once hard fought and built with the nails of bone and the glue of blood. and in the dire straights the hardest times, all that is remembered is love, the rest is a blur of self serving faces and places that surrendered nothing served only themselves and lost any meaning for anyone. the destruction of the self leaves little else, for outside of that structure, everything becomes a tool of the divine to both bind and set loose the soul that has no need of anything but is trapped in an illusion of its own creation. what is, becomes the soup of death and the making of the next generations prisons or freedoms. there is no choice but to surrender this life or the next for what is gained for the heart but the feeling of regret or repeated phantoms of desire and distant thoughts of what once meant forlorn happiness, the moments stolen from a life of wages and sin. no one remains untouched but everyone suffers with the coming of the end, seeing all destroyed by its own creator, the spirit seeks some truth, some explanation about all the world is, filled with fictional characters dreaming themselves in a tale that has great meaning but no worth to the soul, this life, all is seen for the false and the truth and the rest just fades away.

Thursday, October 18, 2012

the soul unliberated, suffers not

the soul unliberated, suffers not, as the heart unused has no feelings, it is only once the nature of the system is aroused, does it begin to resonate with the rhythms of the natural creation. there is a lesser and greater nature that men contrive in their noblest visage, to become a charitable being to transcribe their fate from the block letters of infancy to the cursive strokes that express most the individual fingerings and delicate nuances of their created selves. in each is the unwritten pursuit to become not as others would expect but as a newness or an unexpected opposite, surprising all with daring and freshly painting the world in hues before unseen.some grasp the calligraphy of the heart and touch with the wings they draw a million children singing, others the weight of petulance and sorrow declines and into the tar like substance all are drawn and suffer the ancient horror of the dying lizards of the prehistoric dwellers. we see nothing but what we desire and give only what is free within, leaving many doors unopened and many lives unlived. all speciality and uniqueness vanish with the grasping of the endless totems and coins, the harvest ends but the storing of the wealth never falters, forces without end compromise the truth, the freedoms the personal aspirations and twist each thought to their own preservance, what is left is a sad reckoning of man made happinesses and weak brewing tea that no sugars or draughts of spice can infuse with pleasure for the imbiber. the naturalness and enjoyment that the day and night contain never change yet always fill the open heart completely, not so with the buildings and factories made of greed and desire. from these come a smug complaint of hammered sacrifice that ends no ones complaint and suffers for the lack of wanting more. let loose the world of need and embrace the needless heart, be free to love and to aspire and to realize every dream and dreamers wakening, dawn and day come freely and so the enjoyer of its delight sleeps well upon the nights brilliant splendor.

Wednesday, October 17, 2012

has anything become too much

has anything become too much? to be focused with the moment of creating truth, love, consciousness in each interaction, for every being with aspiration, to be the example of the qualities that define the process, without speaking, this is forever, this has no end, no completion, for the work is never done. whatever was planned or scheduled or arranged is just the dressing on the window never the light that comes through the glass that must be shined brightly before anything else is required. the morning the evening all hours surround the work patterned like roses in a garden, each at their appointed time in the rhythms of nature, the bud coming forth, then opening to the light in its own pattern its perfect light shining down. the place is never taken where we sit to pray and work and imagine, for everything is the product of inspiration there is no effort to the true will of the divine for all water flows unimpeded to its resting nature of oceans filled and deep beyond knowing. there resides the purpose and the plan the matrix of knowledge and affinity, the plasticity of being in the universal and holding each heart without trembling or desire.all is the unspeakable truth and the inexhaustible love that surrounds everything and cannot be touched but only felt. whatever was the moment that brought this to its expression, that followed and molded and turned and returned to bring light through these unseen eyes filled with such vision that no one can see but they know that only one life is lived and all lives follow the path of devotion and no cruelty is greater than love found at last destroying all notion that anything was ever left behind or lost only cast forth into the sea always returning in every wave and drop falling on such barren soil where this life flowers to wander freely and all else awaits the light that never sleeps.

Saturday, October 13, 2012

the ancient self

the ancient self the one being the eternal force of unmanifest truth, the one unknowable connection from the consciousness through awareness into the void, where man and master and being flow without feature or meaning from this ceaseless chaos into perfect structure and love and finally into the unending maw of desire and ruin, born to die and to live as one paradox that has no resolution in the mind but only in the heart. inside the mind the world exists as the expression of the self, the manifestation of all things that affect the trajectory of the minds considerations. to be free is beyond the conceptual nature and can only be considered in the context of the vital emotions, raging and beating upon the bars of the vigilant mind. the freedom of the soul is the secret of the occult, the mystery of life that has no sense to the world that all accept and toil and die to. hideous berth upon the doomed ocean liner, slaves to the engines of the beast that carries the doomed across the ever widening river of the forgotten crossing to the perilous truth, shrouded in the mists of the mind , all things perish so that the soul is never lost, the unmanifest cannot be captured in form but only by the force of being, free of any consideration or concept or desire, there cannot be an ounce of impurity in the system to cross from here to nothing and return, unscathed but emptied of all the detritus life piles and impales every one with. there is nothing but purity and devotion to the end of all that is until there is no end and all is but one moment, still, unmoving, where tranquility touches the core of existence and freedom like all thought is meaningless.

Friday, October 12, 2012

silence, unfolding collapsing

silence, unfolding collapsing, entering, being. the small sense of existence dissipates without sound or movement. the swell of expansion is inward and has no dimension or shape. one instant all awareness compresses all experience concentrates into a single point and the flow of pure nectar envelopes all. surrounded, submerged surrendered becoming the selfless self the empty oceans and rivers rushing to be full to fill to overflow into the unending horizon, one ocean of all in every drop pure devotion complete surrender all is the one and the one every particle completely. there is no before or after, coming or going, being or sense of even existing, nothing missing or needed, lost or gained, the absolute becomes flesh and the flesh becoming conscious bliss without sense of form or features individual or connection, movement has no place to go and stillness like a well deepens without end. dangling and uplifted the eternity suspended from tranquility and rippling with freshness oceans of purity and grace extend through all and fill universes with love.

Thursday, October 11, 2012

Day 17. but who's counting.

day 17. but who's counting. the pressure of being here and not anywhere else is infinite. the world conspires to drive the flow away but there are the steel rails of this ride that cannot be moved. all i can do is watch the abasement and atonement that is being performed before me. the service and surrender sometimes overwhelming sometimes constantly absent, each part of this drama played out in complete absorption of the self either into the necessary action or else in the layers of the mind, digesting everything as the food of the ego. there are no walks or time spent away except as sleeping and eating. the travel from one point to another is always directed never from any internal desire but only as a service to another. what exists is the light and dark of rooms and corridors being painted muted pastels and having no odors or intrusions. the world outside is a whisper of greys and blues and black. interior to the interior the light has little sway and only faces shine and monitors drown the shuffling feet with metronomic bleating. there are no voices, only the waves of one form melting shifting from morning to night, replaced endlessly, each melting into the next, hearts and hands cold and warm, helping and hurting, all paralyzed with intention that has been boxed into the narrowest passage allowed .to endure is the strength of immobility and unfeeling muting, the rest is the ego fleeing, as every action has no food to give no succor or pleasure, only giving away everything until what remains exceeds even the greatest treasure, beyond gift or tribute, there is the silent surrender, the mother of all freedom, to serve.

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

one moment life

one moment life, the next pain and death, there is no separation.what happens now is all that exists. in this moment i am living. i ask, what is pain, what is pleasure, both the unbearable pressure of experiences. is there a moment where existence becomes experience, when the self separates from the being and becomes the experiencer, the drop that has no ocean. the instant of reaction, where its no longer just the feeling of the wind but the chill of the flesh and the pain of realization, that everything demands, everything exposes the weakness and suffering that is inherent and slumbering to awareness. without reference we create the walls and windows of the illusion, the preparation for exposure and limitations. we become the smallness and the vulnerable child. it is the rare child that does not cry when born. then in the arms of love all is soothed and delighted and fed with nurturing love and what we believe becomes the drop of existence, falling in the rain, each a splash and then gone. without eating, without love, without breathing, a million lights shine and as many will cease in the night. what life is what love is what anything is becomes the reason for continuing, to have the next experience, for what we are is lost, the inexpressible, indivisible, beyond these momentary flashes of awareness, experience, action. there is no one, no separate self, but in the illusion of our existence, experience awareness we find a refuge from that. we become the evolution, the undeniable flow from contraction to expansion to diffusion to evaporation, as even that elemental composition disintegrates and unstructures, whatever was becomes more and more until the complexity becomes absolute and disappears into totality, the billions of lights become one unending brilliance of being. but in that arc from absolute stillness to unstoppable motion we define every minute instance of expression and experience, as if there were some eternal truth in continuous chaos. the fortune of being human is that there is no experience that does not end.

Saturday, September 29, 2012

hopeless endurance

hopeless endurance, racing without a finish line, in a mass of humanity fighting for every step, the prize something better, the loss something worse, there is nothing to indicate success or failure but everything is judged and measured, every statistic examined and calculated against all others. the scoreboard is full of numbers and names constantly changing, the results found lost in the obituaries, under the calendar of past events. what life this, why live when there is nothing but the endless grasping for what we have already. to claim that which was given and withhold it from all others for ourselves. this earth is endless paradise, filled with plenty and watered with the blood of our ancestors, who fled tyranny and oppression in order to terrorize and oppress others, to bring our suffering to the new world and let loose the horrors we can only imagine. to take without conscience, and then complain when our lives become a trembling fear that what was done in the past will be delivered once more to our door, like to like and from the past to the future,all things like a circle go round and round. the mind spins in the moment, racing to comprehend the massive amount of unexperienced trauma we have yet to experience as the measures of our karma are in deep denial. why did christ climb the cross and give flesh and blood and what sins had man committed that demanded the lamb be slaughtered with the lion. there is no new life, just the rehash of the old again and again until it is transcended through sacrifice and service to all others and without thought for ones self. where did blood become water and wine the forgetful bacchanal of indulgence, what sins do we constantly repeat that have no religion to define their punishment. we carry the burdens given us by those who brought us here and gave us our lives, there is no loss but just more baggage, and the more we cling, the greater the load we put upon our children, for they are the beasts of the past come to feast upon the future. there is no here and now until all is laid to rest and paid for, no easy wall to toss the past over and forget where everything came from, the walls are mortared with the blood and bone of the slaves and the victims of the victors of past wars, those we praise and point to for our inspiration, the ones that make the world safe for our little piece of the blood pie everyone is eating. have love in your heart and give everything away, for only this freedom brings release and not the bondage we all carry.

liberation from all

`liberation from all desire and identification. the end of being someone, becoming something, having, owning, needing. the soil of the earth is all and everything of its nature is yours, there is no other home but where feet and weariness lead. this home of all homes, birthplace and cemetery, the holder of every dream and the granter of all wishes known to man, i sit upon the rock of your earthen heart, the wind blowing, the sky alive with clouds and birds winging to another branch, another ledge, another airborne encounter. and  stepping i too am set forth like moses before the desert of Canaan, the holocaust of every generation waiting before me, the light dimming under waves of fog, the massive works of building after building stretching upon untold miles of mans beckoning roads that never seem to end but always end up under the same feet in the same direction carrying the same empty promises of change and return. the plain truth, the awareness and experience of existence and non existence, the tiniest reality we take as the unblemished universe, there is little difference outside or in, the waves of time wash both away and what remains is the kernel of being loosed upon a spinning rock in space, filled with billions of lost and deluded selves, all holding a clod of dirt high and proclaiming their conquest, their stronghold, and in each heart another being lives, needing their protection, to be saved and comforted, and the war of strength and frailty, love and resentment, anger and sorrow wages without end. in this life all seek the mastery of the flesh, then the mind and the soul. there is no other place to go for all is the binding of the karma wound through every deed and thought and in every grasping motion. whether to gain or lose to have or have not, each moment is the last of all and every night is the promise of a new reward. dreams speak of hidden meanings and toothy seers proclaim hidden knowledge and practices betray the hidden secrets, but every step is earth waiting and each star the end of knowing. there is no center but the place that touches everything and from there you know there is no where to go and nothing to become. in place of the golden ring, there is the puff of smoke and the endless emptiness, swept by deathless knowing and unseeking vision. others come to liberate you from the sand but their feet too begin sinking and all are lost to time the endless destroyer and space the bringer of endless diversion, for every map leads here and through the forest of madness lies love and hate and delusion without end, part man part god part of everything and all of nothing , the bringer of the light is the word spoken without meaning, and into that cascade of existence we are born and live endlessly, like travellers in a time machine, repeating endlessly a loop of worn experiences, over and over and over, until even the unremembered memories return and lay endless meanings upon each mundane act. time has no end and space no beginning, we loop through their endless dance and are forever weary.

Thursday, September 27, 2012

i rest unbidden in paradise

i rest unbidden in paradise, the last of a breed that will not die, will not stop pushing or being pushed, the end of all creations thunder, the very tip of the lightning set into the metal core of the earth even as the heavens blaze. what is it that climbs mountains and hurries to the places of reckoning, scattered like rice across the sand. i miss the smell of India and all its billions and in the deepest darkness i miss even myself lost in the wanderings of a million sadhus, pointing with sturdy staffs at mountain tops and rivers becoming the flesh of the gods.the hurricanes of summer are passed and the frozen nights of winter are still held in the cold hands of falls slow mystic coming. dying as a way of preparing, the world seeks the protection of the bed of leaves and the blankets of snow that fall effortlessly or in torrents with the wintered winds of the canyons. i watch this day the rebirth and miracle of life, of bodies reborn and the suffering of the human sent in ethereal splendor to become a wakened beast, a man among flowers and the truth of what is brought in the soul and revealed only when the sight fails and the body trembles with its own sure passing. the pounding surf of existence awaits the swimmers rushing to the waters briny depths and clinging to wooden totems of their faith as every wave triumphs and each face submerges slowly to the inevitability of breathing the salt and eating the seaweed and playing in the fisheries of floating madness for no fins protrude and no gills breathe beneath the darkened seas. i await the wash of time and the hurtling of space to take me to my final completion, even though i am there even as i wait and wonder where it is i am that has no name or destination. love exists as the unheard sound never noticed until it stops and the silence of being alone extends past even the heart and nothing remains, serene without caring, ready always for whatever can come to be.

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

the patience of waiting rooms

the patience of waiting rooms, the endless tedium of life in abeyance, sitting, fidgeting,stretching, the once mighty beast caged and unable to control anything outside these bars.and behind the bars doctors, nurses,assistants roam uncontrollably, without a thought for the trapped beings, alive but dying, waiting for the word, the tragedy the victory the next point on the map that has no roads or directions, just distances travelled and unknown destinations. outside the world heaves under a layer of impenetrable fog, the chill permeates the bones under the muscles and flesh and inside the damp heat seems to welcome every microscopic wanderer and offer a damp breezy home to meet with the legionnaires of their distant relatives. every stroke of the pen, every tale of the surgeons daring do and handy mechanical prowess impresses the crowd,the smiling distraught audience that cannot look away or be alone even for an instant in this house of pain and subjugated pleasure, the clouds of morpheus permeate the infirm and between doses the pain pulls apart the knitted wounds like shattered glass inside delicate silken sheets. no one moves except to strain another muscle no bathroom is full or cafeteria inhabited except by the janitors and linen supply and the world weeks and months every day, unending disaster looms in every waiting room and every hospital bed as television rants and howls mindlessly and broken bodies mend slow and without patience but only the methodical sameness of living.

Friday, September 21, 2012

at times the smallest realization

at times the smallest realization the one where i cannot even breathe or move, where there is no room for even my eyelash to blink, and what remains is the infinitesimal self adrift in the staggering beauty of the world the heavens the grace and the ananda of existence. my littlest self in my van, puttering along the cliffs and clouds and shining oceans of unbelievable serenity, the perfection of nature existing in divine surrender and harmony, giving one pure soul of being in every bush and tree and insect and sunshined reflection of water and gravity and wideness stretching to infinite ends and my littlest self, struggling to hold any part or any understanding of the inexpressible wonder and pure devotion that comes for the one divinity one heart one consciousness that would bring all this for just one soul, and such waves of joy wrap me in its arms as i transport through this ananda to the same being that would love even the tiniest ant or cricket, each leaf and drop of sea water, and see in each and without doubt the purity of devotion and surrender from each to all and from that which all knows completely to each individually and nothing can be missing from the eternal being endless and timeless witness and creator, being and nothing, lover and loved singular and in purity without perfection but never missing from any thing i am that self in each infinite particle being  drenched and lifted eternally to the supreme that has nothing but creates everything. what remains of my being opens its tiniest eyes and sees the unending love in the stillness and vastness of everything within and without and loves beyond feeling or measure the truth of love pouring through this heart so small that love is too much for it to bear. no window to the soul or freeway to enlightenment but the ocean surf pounding the heart into the sand with such force nothing can remain. here is the remains of devotion in every grain and molecule and endless infinite fractions of existence becoming that which cannot be any smaller and in that becoming that which is in everything.

Thursday, September 20, 2012

changeless perception

changeless perception, awareness becoming conscious and consciousness knowing there is beyond this instant eternity and all existence flows without end from the unmanifest truth becoming the seed of being, the realization of form and unending cyclic surrender to birth life death time and space, each and every instant bliss and terrible fear for what is gained is lost and what cannot be becomes all too soon the reckoning of the undying totality, the completion of all that can become and be come that which is only imagined, when all dreams are fulfilled and every nightmare thrust into daylight, each fragment of being becomes fractured beyond repair and deepens the grave that awaits between each blink of the souls eye. we gather only flowers but fear the petals and their thorns beneath the stems, what gaze becomes truth and what feeling endures as time without end is ending constantly and space infinite separates all things so nothing is eliminated from our existence.i watch the sun and moon survive each day and night, the air still fills my lungs and the light without end frees my soul and i the excitement of the photons i examine become the endless push of what is to become what never can be and even death has no end or birth a beginning for what exists only portrays the instant of the truth and reflects the light that flows from love to bring the self to each fragment of the being reaching out to every other. i await the end, the ultimate merger without end and know this instant like forever is eternally complete.

Wednesday, September 19, 2012

demons possess even the holy

demons possess even the holy and divine and in their possession become the divine themselves. there is nothing that does not serve the divine purpose, what christian or jew hindu or muslim feels is as true as any being seeking the way the truth the light, none are kept from their desire or aspiration, what man crawls to hoping to find some relief from the pain of not knowing from not seeking from the assault of the untrue upon the virgin self this is granted without question, the being is pristine untouched not judging only the flesh is corrupted making the passage back to love more strained yet more poignant when it can arrive broken in body but whole in spirit. only love can conquer the pain of separation the loss of truth the unforgiveness of the ego upon the self for its deluded and wayward sojourn through the alleyways and underpasses of the mind and body. what begins as loving play and excitement of the child becomes the obsession of the human adult that has no awareness of its own degradation until it becomes the observer that cannot close its eyes to itself. there the truth sits unchanging while the body and mind decay and destroy itself and anything it touches. here the self realizes its own power and unworkability to be, to even exist as a part of what is true and whole, and in that instant the truth becomes a wicked sword that destroys all and leaves only the wreckage that cannot feel or imagine anything but the eternal pain of self alone unable to even stand let alone walk. and here the path begins,on the knees dragging the broken remains in desperate surrender to the love of the only being that will know that there is no death, no end no possible retribution except existence for each of us and all that we desire.

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

i awake to darkness

i awake to darkness and stars, the last of the campfire smoldering, windy and cool, my hair tossed and clothes wrapped awkwardly from twisting in my sleep. the dawn still hours away night fully present, the last few hours spent pulling a mighty wagon up mountains and flying into the sky from the top, then crashing through the nets of the dreamfishers, wrestling with beaked egyptians and hooded beastmen, chanting the million names of their gods. one split second i am laid before a relic of ancient sacrifice and the next my ancient VW surrounds me and while there is nothing to separate the two, i feel the cushion of this dimension seize me and fill with a relief that my fate in that world is left unknown. here my energy washes through me in waves that both unhinge me and push through my spine until my consciousness is loosed again and the waves of the energetic ocean envelope me and there is only the deep golden sea surrounding  everything in warm light like fire  reflected from golden walls and filling my ancient tomb with the friends and animals that once trod the earth with me and into the next world  beyond worlds. my sarcophagus is ready and all my wives prepared as death overtakes all but i shall live forever.

Sunday, September 16, 2012

what is left

what is left, what to do, what thing remains where before there was the self planning estimating doing my life my home my relationships, now the entire universe is doing everything, where this is, there is  the play of forces moving without any action on my part. the thought is the word is the action is the result and there is none of that, without thinking, the process is cut short, the universe thinks, talk acts, there is nothing to be done, the divine is working without any attachment or design, the purpose of existence is revealed, there is no human hand, form, mind  that can create what is already existing. all is the divine work and nothing is mans, we, like all the creatures of the universe, express that divinity, are filled with unending love, so that the divine can bring the truth to that which is obscure and partial, separate and resistant. we become the play of the lost seeking love, seeking truth seeking water and food in a world that is the garden and where only truth and love can exist, there is no other to take from us or to kill us there is only our self, existent in billions of souls, reflected in each thought deed and action for all is the work of the divine. the end is the beginning and nothing has any where to go, the one is in everything, complete in each part, yet each part is held separate and becomes the very nature of the being alone and undivided without knowing what it is. each part expresses the being's evolution to become a part of everything just as everything is a part of the being. 

Einstein was a visionary

Einstein was a visionary of dynamic extrapolation, his one poem, energy equals matter times the speed of light squared, is truly the story of life, of death, of every moment you exist. for what is life, you, what you are but energy trapped in a form, in fact energy is the very stuff that form is derived from. the accumulation of energetic forces into standing waves, waves that collide with opposing waves and become constant in their vibration. the truth is we are the energy of our lives imprinted upon the universal ether into immovable objects made of intense restrained energetic forces. as these forces interact with other forces they shift in frequency and oscillation becoming the resulting interactive result of the totality of all the forces that surround it. to release the form is to release the forces that hold this energy in its trapped state. this is the incredible truth, we are human nuclear systems, in containment, once the containment is breached, huge amounts of energy are returned to the universe and who we are loses form, loses definition loses any singular point of reference and we return to the diffuse ether of formless existence. there the universe is one tiny glowing gaseous ball and you are swirling in and out of its interactions without shape or form, there is nothing but the incredible light released everywhere, captured and reformed as life after life we become the fuel of the universal expansion.

the universal splendor

the universal splendor, at night stars beyond imagining, clouds of primordial dust awaiting birth, giving man untold imaginings wonder beyond thinking, the source the expression the end of existence. what are we in this magnificent emptiness filled with unknowing force and light. what darkness, matter, density, gravity the cosmic laws and the the universal lawbreakers both inhabit. what tiny particles collide and join eternally being one, forever coming apart, the dance beyond the senses and for the senses never ends. we the enjoyers the creators marvel blindly at the universal majesty that cannot be comprehended by any thought or rational explanation. containing all paradoxes without fail or complaint, everything we have ever been is in this sea of exploding tranquility. we find salvation and invasion, alien and human, leaps of faith and man made technology in the night. each day the dark departs, the universe becomes our home of earth and water and sky, but each night the wild wonder emerges newly created and unchanging, full of portent and metaphor each light a thought a wish to be granted a song held closely to the heart filled to bursting with true awe and delight. for here we are kneeling before the unknowable truth, man is but a flicker of light, a darkness before a dawn, a waver of vibration in this undying universe, yet we are beyond doubt a part of it all and connected to every microscopic particle and every macroscopic construction that we can know or imagine. every one is but an instant of this universal time and space, we inhabit nothing and come from nothing so to nothing we belong, in grace we survive,for there is no means for existence but some divine engine that seeks and must find what has become of the creation that is now alive.