i arrive too late

i arrive too late for my own awakening, choosing the sleep of eternity in which to dream unending
where is it now that sweet dream and delicious satisfaction of desire everlasting
this paltry truth and deficient oneness robs all delight and frolic
no horse to cart me or wife to wed me the children done and never to play
i balk and resist as even the air is gone from my lungs
what breathing becomes is bellowed force and hapless grace
none but me to know and what is worth that alone
for its not my eyes i see with, but the endless stare of the deathless warrior
left eternally vigilant watching for the enemies of nowhere and nothing
what ends is the beginning and what never ends is the death of everything
what endless funeral cries through me and leads the procession into its unnumbered graves
loose this bounded fancy where once skies rampant soared and i
the least of any and the greatest admirer of everything and all sit untouched without a memory
to keep me from this song so sweet through all that i can be
no tuneless dirge or warbled sadness but the joyful lilt of my true loves own
what am i
i am nothing and the absoluteness of everything
as i become i am one and all before any exist
and in their end i am that which never was
for when the i is gone what remembers
what waits and longs eternally
no love becomes or thrill alights, the dance is gone
were i you or you i is never again

what i thought is the last thing to go

what i thought is the last thing to go, its simple arithmetic, the last number is the answer. everyone is searching for it, the end of the sequence that makes all that come before it sensible.until then its a rubics cube without the colors, what difference does it make the combination if all of them work. the monkeys quiet down and begin preening each other. ive gotten pretty close to our simian relatives, at the top of the mountain we call them family trouble, the pinched looks of the children, aged and scared, the bull ape alpha male shaking the trees, mothers with their doleful but hungry eyes. everyone in a mad scramble for the food, but mindfully fearful of the bull always, he doesnt pull his fangs in for anyone. ear half gone, ridges of knotted scars and lost hide. he acts like the biggest puerile asshole you ever met, but no one has taken him down yet.i sit in the pulsing of my system,the energy like a heart pump to the soul, the mind collapsed and buzzing with the knowledge that ive stepped off the cliff. last night was my flight, i even told people i was coming, until i cried and realized there was no leaving for me, no making everyones expectations come true, no fixing the problems still festering on the "Mainland", i think of this as my island continent, this little circle of rice and peanuts and cows and goats and chickens and turkeys and peacocks, children and more children in paradise here, so joyful and free to be living in this open world of india's love. Jed is the master of contempt for the dreamers and unconscious constantly pointing at the futility of interacting with those that cant properly experience the truth of ultimate awareness.

when i quote from someone, its really that i am dipping into their special bag of tricks to make a point and since they explored the subject so well and i learned from them, i like to give credit, though i can hardly say i ever quote directly. truth sits like a vulture on this side of the fence, but soars like the mightiest eagle in the one unending vision of the sky beyond the world in the other. truth wants to kill you now, for your own sake, as a mercy killing of the comatose patient that can never awaken on his own. what is it we call life but the experiences of our senses strung together through memories over lifetimes of repetition. we hardly experience anything but our memories anymore. as we experience again some remembered thing, we immediately categorize it and remove ourselves from that experience. how often do we actually experience something that is either not in our memories or not implanted through some form of repetitive media insertion, so even as we are in that moment, we look at the pictures or words formed by someone else and now programmed into our brains. we are for all intents and purposes dead to the world and the world, whatever it really is, is lost to us. to take yourself out of the homely groove we have all created for ourselves and let something totally unexperienced or written about happen, we must conquer the mind, then everything becomes exactly what it is and not some internal representation that we have stored for use at just the wrong moment, the moment we want so desperately to be in and yet never are. i have conquered some large portions of thought response. i did this by denying myself what the self wanted, the preferences and desires and needs and connections to all the little traps of the world until finally i gave up, and let what is be, just stopped trying to make everything an extension of my ego, and let it have a life of its own making that i get to enjoy. what the universe has created for me exists only when i stop trying to create for myself. sure it seems to this small ego that my stick drawings and mastery of mechanical thought are big accomplishments but letting the heart free and the mind gone have allowed miracles to flow unabated. there is no truth except that which we dont create ourselves. all is the vain attempt to mimic what we see and feel and what can that be but the repetition of our mind and the habit of thinking we know something that actually cannot be true since we are looking for a higher order of awareness than our minds can inhabit. to allow freedom from habit and self doubt at the same time is to embrace the contradiction, for we are the connection to the supreme even as we are completely disconnected from the truth of our situation. how can we be both, yet we must be and anything less is just more mind crap, the lack of cohesion of strict control ends the minds dominance. then what is real becomes obvious in everything and every action becomes mated to the divine that is creating everything in each instant. that is freedom and love and total surrender and thats what i am experiencing more and more. i cant teach this but only speak from experience, what happened to me is a perfect and forgone occurrence of the plan of the divine, but to the small self it looks like coincidence and luck and unbelievable miracles, in truth, its the most natural and simplest thing to just let living and life and existence be what we are given and not what we make of it. what could be easier than to just let what is happen and stop the madness of holding back the sun. what i tell you is i see everyone in their glory, holding the absolute truth of who they are without adornment or pretense, and then choosing to be the small and loving soul they are to help those that truly deserve them and that they truly deserve to serve. all is karmas being washed away in the service for others. i did this for centuries and have finally gotten down to my last few million karmas, its like a sailboat now instead of a supertanker, i can actually feel the waves of consciousness guiding me and the slow catamaran and outrigger to come until finally i am just swimming with the motion of the incredible ocean of being. what love creates it destroys with a kiss that brings the heart into harmony with the one truth, there is no other and we are the children without a mother and the end of ourselves is the beginning of who we are. quiet patience becomes bliss and joy as we accept the emptiness that fills us with awareness and life becomes the expansion into eternity.

remaining intent

i created an intention years ago, to love god, to become that oneness in this lifetime and to manifest this force in this body before i die. all these have become a reality, i know this before i know who i am. the time and space of being follows and creates waves and i am in those sinking below and above the sight of the horizon. sometimes i climb the mountain and can see very clearly the end of this, other times i circle the paths around the bottom and rely on my instincts to know. but knowing is without doubt, this time and space are curving to its destination, the source of self, the entry of personal awareness into the infinite. of course thats a likely distortion of what is happening as there can be no finite part that remains in the process and every step becomes an indeterminate junction of awareness with the unknown. one step before the abyss in the blinding darkness of ananda i know the end or at least a piece of the end is tearing loose and i fall apart scattering the remains upon the rocks of emptiness and solitude. the only thing is there anything left after, and each fall the lesser jumble of parts, the minutia of self and reflex and habit recover what collection of function remaining and shamble to the next crevasse inoculated with bliss and set to the purpose still imprinted on the folds of the brain, the punctured relics responding to the imperative of self destruction in the midst of paradise and grace. for what the ego follows now is pure instinct and not the survival of itself but the realization of the greater whole, rather than its lesser part.forgiveness, gratitude, awareness and joy punctuated with loss and pain, unrealized karmas expressing their dissolution, all pour down the drain of experiences and become the mire from which i am freed. for what is this pain of birth, but leaving all i know behind and pushing the last essence from this unwieldy body through the membrane of existence into the molecular transformation of becoming that which is beyond possibility yet the unquestioned finality that is for all human aspiration. beyond collapse, what remains is merged into unrealized potential, the consciousness beyond self, beyond limits, all inclusive and unmanifested before this instant, realized as both the self and that which cannot be self but only that which is and forever has been the truth of my purpose and the unending grace of my existence to become.

equinox fever

what comes is the remainder, what leaves is the whole thing. we experience the most we can encompass and the rest is passed undigested. the incomprehensible is reduced to a fragment and we hold onto the splinter and call it a tree. all is disguise and metaphor, the latch bolt of the minds children, wandering alone trying on the costumes and fakery as if they fit. we dance with the madness and hold nothing back until the monsters grab our flimsy bravado and empties all our fears into the bucket of our mind. cheating the soul is the game of death and life leaves little for the heart to hold. every chance is the romance of feigned passions and unfelt truths, wrapped in the hyperbole of mental dilemmas and unequivocal requirements. what chance the heart of the child still free and joyous, let nothing stop the dreamers quest, journeys untaken rest on the wanderers heart more heavily than a million doorways, and heaven is best for the dead. reward not the punctuation and metered rythym of the lost hoping to gain the kingdom through ritual and denial. one glass fragment sits near the heart and worries itself deep. the soul has no where to hide and cannot be seen by the blinded ambition of the mind, but every heart awaits it moment without restraint. there is no lust but for the self to make real who it is and become exactly what it wants. all life divides across the line of unconsciousness and reason and in that line all madness lives.

becoming nothing

i found out i am not in this world anymore. i dont relate to seekers or spiritual people, i cant talk with the unconscious mind, the act of explaining what is going on is damn near impossible. i look at everyone like they are sleeping, just like jed mckenna said. they talk and act and plan and such but there is no reason for this, it is going to something to something to something and leaves nothing but a wake of desire and frustration.i feel unbound and disconnected from everything like a balloon whose string has loosed and is swept to the highest winds, waiting to explode.and only i am there, all the other balloons hold childrens hands and wander aimlessly until they expire. what am i then. a monster a mechanical construct that has become self aware in the midst of a billion computers mechanically functioning. its not that im better or more of something, rather there is nothing here that wants anything. i feel nothing for the lives and dreams and desires of those i come in contact with. they are meaningless, the reality is the one thing i do see, the one self unchanging ageless unaccompanied by anything, focusing only on that, i feel connected completely, but the world is lost to me. all the ways of being and doing and hoping and feeling are empty wishes of a opium addict. i dont seek, i am. what i come into contact with is the truth, its like a giant light in the darkness and cannot be ignored or confused with anything. its here and there, not everywhere but it is everything that exists. that which is the one thrust into this reality, the points of power, vortexes, awareness of the being manifested. that is obvious to me and i am compelled there. the body means nothing it exists to bring you here, then it becomes but another part of the dream, the string on the balloon, dangling in the highest sphere of existence. i wait on the thin membrane between being and notbeing, the dividing point where all that is becomes one and disappears. we go there alone and do not come back. the planes of existence are below, stacked like dirty dishes in some mad scientists kitchen, seeming to tumble endlessly below while here there is only one motion, inward away from that which was to that which only can be. the oneness, totality, being, infinite.surrender is falling into this, resistance is falling back into the madness.becoming one more dot in the eye of self. i await the wind that will blow me away.

it is always the small self

that expresses and feels and thinks and acts, always. the being has no nature, it interacts with the human world through the finite self of the ego. when the ego becomes the tool of the being then all changes from egoic to yogic.yoga is discipline and meditation, ego lacks these fundamental qualities, they must be self imposed to bring the egoic nature into balance with the true nature of the self, the union of the being and human nature. it is the human nature that experiences ananda, bliss, it is the human that is liberated, enlightened, realized. the universal is not concerned with such but only with the end of small thinking, however that can happen. so often the process of the human to the divine becomes the obsession and not the divine itself. then there is no hope for liberation, as the human delights in its own issues and problems, forgetting to let them go and move on. each path points to the same destination, freedom from the rule of the ego. each points to union with the ageless Being. remember to look where the path points to, not at the path itself. the realization of the goal the unification the enlightened self become one, there are a million ways to be that, find the one for you and move with it, the only path is yours, no one else walks it or reaches the end. take whatever is necessary to get there, leave all behind that prevents you. its not a book or a teacher or a place or a practice, its literally you and no one else that is doing this, you already know the way and what is waiting. become that every day and you will succeed.