passion, left empty

passion, left empty, becomes thin as tissue and most likely necessary to dry the tears that come from its own sense of loss and deepening despair that nothing exists and everything is a creation of the mind fully buried in the fantasy of existence. that even one moment of life is unbearable without a reason or a purpose or a meaning that the mind creates to change what is into something that can be understood or stopped or left until later. the unending parade of distraction and contraction from the unbearable emptiness and unending being without something to change or create or feel or think. one second of that truth destroys the fruitless dreams and toy maker pursuits of the billions and billions of lives that mechanically pursue survival and comfort and hold tight to small hopes and prayers that make all that matters this one tiny existence. i live and die every second as the one being and all around me a re the wrinkles of the face and the hairs of the head and the toenails of that soul. all are precious but none know the truth or the meaning for their life. where it starts i am not but in the end all come to me  for none have ever left but that i create their life anew. what moment this that is given but it is taken for nothing is theirs but this soul that has no emptiness for all that is comes only once and never is always waiting, alone unending beyond what words can describe. each time a new life cries, and old life dies, the end and beginning are not the same but what is given is taken and what is taken is always returned to the giver of life. all that comes in the moment as the breath in the body endures pushes once more becomes life as swiftly as it ends.

ten years ago

ten years ago, words were meaning, the written records of the great thinkers and writers expressed truths that i could only imagine and never detail in my own way, i was addicted to the pages and pages of unending fascination with the workings of the collective mind, unveiling the realms of the meaning and purposes of every facet of existence. in the same breath the same words i read my own failure and incompleteness, my own inability to feel and think and act like the chosen the lucid and the enlightened. in all of the mess and massive amounts of description and data and chapters and volumes of ancient and new age wisdom, i stopped to take a real assessment of what it all meant the why to the what and the how to their done and did that and realized there is no voice to be heard but the one within, the lone cry of the self exiting the herd, leaving the pack of yapping beasts to find a solitary way, not a right or wrong place to be, a place here and now and never other than who i am. what makes a soul incomplete, unfinished, apart but the very words detailing someone elses experience that cannot be your own. when man found language, he created the tower of babel and from that tower all manner of insanity was born, first and foremost, that one mans thoughts are more valid than anothers. that any amount of thinking or reading or listening can bring you closer to the final truth, there is no other, brother, sister mother father friend or foe, but the one who sees these as themselves. who am i, the truth, is what i hear and what i write, not for anyone but my only voice to listen  as it leaves one last time from my heart, never new or true again.

the world has its own rythym

the world has its own rythym, one not heard but felt and deep in the heart its pounding collapses the walls of the chambers until one giant pulse rocks the body like a wave thrusting into the ocean again and again. there is no end to the universal life the unbearable completion, totality resting in dualities and trialities and billions of fractions of the eternal self. existence alone endures all, waits for everyone, sleeps like the dead risen to experience the nothing that life truly is, one decaying second after the next while never remains unchanged. is there life in this life or after life or during the passage of lives? who lives undeterred by the beauty or the horror the bliss or the despair, what tiny self manages to explode from its cell its magnificent creation into the chambered awareness that awaits each expansion, each bursting of the membrane and loses its self in the terror of release and the failure of its final reasoning, the worlds never end, the mind expands as the flesh mutates from raw existence to multi ganglioned duplicities, unstoppable need, dreams of fear and the flight of billions of souls seeking sanctuary where none exists, the steps to the cathedral are endless and the minions of the warden wait at every turn, the light shines reflected from a billion surfaces but none reveals its source. what is the life but constant panic and confusion, filled with mindless respites that empty all into a river of doubt and desperation, what life exists but the dream we vanish into, i cannot sleep but wait for eternity and all its followers to return.

i position myself upon the world

i position myself upon the world and wait, the movement everywhere, in the ground, the air, the light, the stars at night spinning round in love with space. there is no place to go, no thing to be, the who you are is like the waves on the ocean, each unique, each ephemeral and divine, each a purpose for the moment, then done, yet the ocean is never finished making waves. what water is not that? the world makes creatures and plants, the sun beams come and all is watered and growing, eternally, yet no part lasts, but nothing ends, just the eternal creation flows. where is the divine that we are, the eternal self, that one being from which all arise, the ocean of self. what wind washes and tosses this tiny self, but blows empty in the unmoving truth the unmanifest nature of all creation, that from which all is a reflection, the simple unrealized truth, there is nothing that is what we truly come from, not from earth or water or sun or sky not from stars or matter exploding, we are the nonexistent unmoving nature from which all derives their force of existence, for it is the very engine of the dualistic creation that all is born from nothing and collapses into that same unexisting state when it ends. the great ocean of motionless purity transcends all form. before anything can be it must first not exist. the sails of life stretch behind and before me, i move not yet the wind and sea transport me through their motion and i the speck of dust am powerless and simple and move not at all within. the moment i awaken, the sky stops its daily chore and the ground settles into silence and even the sun refuses to move. where i am there is nothing and i am that.

the energy of life

the energy of life, the moment of awareness, the opening of the heart, the connection to your true purpose, the timeless action that engulfs the mind and engages the spirit. this existence carries the elements of transcendence, the tools for transformation, they surround our physical nature, they permeate our thinking, everywhere you feel the expansion and connection to a greater and more inclusive consciousness than you experienced before. the plane of human life is saturated with love and awareness, the means to connect to all that is offered. the universe is a playground for the spirit. nothing can touch it, everything is physical, mental, vital, there is nothing to hold  the spirit except through misidentification, attachment, desire for this short lived state. we are not born to the soul, or die in spirit, there is no aging and dissolution of the being within. you enter this form, experience the density and attraction of matter, interact with the multiplicity of form and feelings. the world becomes more than a temporary state of altered consciousness,its attraction and delusion of solidity and urgency become like drugs to the ephemeral nature of the true self. this massive self of rock and iron, the ego that is poignant yet playful, the feeling of being connected which is suddenly the opposite of what was a moment ago complete separation, that has never been possible. to be alone to be the only rubber ducky in the bathtub. there is the thrill ride of the universe, to be completely alone and vulnerable and yet think you have any control over the overwhelming force of universal consciousness and manifestation, to be one infinitesimal individual, in the midst of unending unity and awareness, this is the magic of delusion and the attraction of the separate self. into this you are thrust, not as punishment or reward, but to do a job, to experience the divine self diminished and limited and fragile and vulnerable, to be that which has no safety or security, no way to survive, powerless and fearful. all that which the being is not. everywhere there is unending beauty and peace, but in this minded existence,this thought filled and reaction based life we call human existence, we are struggling with survival, where none survive and no one is spared. the universal is present everywhere but we cling to the small and finite for support, prayer and pleading born of fear is our only connection to the overlords and gods of this world. all we are is consciousness, separated from the supreme by the egoic structure that eliminates our connection to that which we are. once the ego is erased, the connection is revealed and all pretense of death and fear disappear. what is life but our own invention to experience everything in each particle and piece and not as the entirety it truly is. once that is done we can leave, return, be one and understand the limitation of separate existence even as we comprehend the simplicity of the all encompassing universe we created.

dawn arrives alone

dawn arrives, alone, the sunlight revealing a world cold from the darkness, waking urgent to believe, this life, this day, this place and my own awakening in this holy center, where love is queen and empress, the world is food and i devour all i can. light and sound combine on the airwaves between the hills. car doors slam and engines downshift up the curves below. the air cool and still freshens the skin and eyes can see for miles down the valley and over the nearby ridge the air travels to the sea where saint mary gazes peacefully past the freeways and packing houses and rumbling of life unstoppable.here pine trees stand thick and silent, the air blue and light, birds fly to the feeders and squirrels and rabbits gather underneath, catching the overflow of the swinging diners. what last moment this would be, the life complete, the earth peaceful, my tasks undone and unworried about their needs. i turned away from the world and the fantasy becomes a realty, the story book opens and i step in and never come out. each life a mystery each time a delight or horror every beast a creature of the unwitting author writing fables that come to life. i examine the page i am on and play the part i am given, without attachment i give and humbly i accept the universe is all i am and the part i play but a flutter of electrons singing her song. tomorrow more will come and the life unfolds without any me to be a part of it, i sing this universal soul and sleep in my hearts contentment.

this timeless eternity

this timeless eternity, sky so wide and clouds without end, in such worlds we exist that none can fathom what worthiness or surrender is present to allow our existence. every heartbeat, love each breath life, all thought stilled and empty. mountains green and giant pillar the heavens and sweep down in torrents of pine and sage and stone. my soul soars to the world and whatever comes from this playground of creation. everything each drop of existence is love unfolding and filling, creating paradise without end. all is for the delight of my being, the awakening of the spirit within to fly forth and become the most treasured lover of existence, enjoyer of beauty in the smallest and greatest of designs. my love is matched only by infinity and never ends as i connect unending to the universe within and without, instantly and eternally one, bursting with gratitude and wonder, tears falling in the raindrops of bliss, rivers of ananda, oceans of love spreading everywhere, and even unto the stars alight and alive and touching me with untold radiance and filling each cell with unknown energies creating and completing in me the universe i am and am always becoming. this slumbering force has no end and i ride its beating heart across the night sky faster than light can follow and into a darkness so complete there is no need for seeing. without sound the silence is full and the soul joins the forces of the endless creation in the unending well of beingless vastness. i collapse with the end of myself and empty all i was into all that was not and in that moment now becomes forever.

be emptiness

all meaning all thought all understanding does not endure, that which we can grasp is lost when we let go. to know who you are you must become nothing, the self that has no wants needs desires feelings meaning or purpose. the essence of being is all that remains. the emptiness is where truth remains eternally. it can never have or be anything, never change never be lost. you cannot grasp it so you cannot let it go. in life you want, need desire, the drama the interaction all tools of the living to prove there is life after birth. the moment you are born, life is thrust upon you.your reactions become your actions, your pain and fear your engines. its the world of wanting and frustration, getting and elation, crushing agony and lustful possession. what is strength becomes walls and battle. surrender is lost, vulnerability crushed and love diminished. the desperate need for attention and recognition, the unallowed self, the unpermitted life, to be desperately needing love and finding it nowhere. the ego plays the fool, changing memories so it becomes never this and always that and soon it becomes impossible to know the truth of anyone or anything, for we are the victim or the victimizer and everyone is our enemy. inside the mind races to conclusions and devises scenarios and outcomes filled with possibilities that never happen, yet we live our lives based on the fantasy of certainty where there is only delusions. all we know is the illusion we create, never the unchanging truth but always the shifting mutating perception of the ego seeking protection and triumph. who is suffering, not the ego, not the illusion, but the empty self that is filled with garbage and lies.the empty self that connects you to your rightful state of unchanging unending love and awareness, the greatest gift of the divine, to become one with life and not separate from anything, to know completion and love always within ourselves, pure and joyous in life and always knowing there is no end to being only to being something. it is the unexamined state of the self, the pure emptiness, calm, serene, apart from all that clings and pulls, unattached in the midst of turmoil and fear, unconcerned as to the outcome, for there is only one finality, truth, the essence of existence, the being that has become billions of conscious selves, so all can be returned to love, to connect, to find joy and know love. for even the one, the eternal unchanging being wants to know the true nature of the being and in the process find all that is false in order to truly know the truth. for what we are is never known until we have lost it and found it again through our own means. then we truly can cherish all that everyone is going through in this process and give love to all as we together find love and joy in each of us. there is no death of the soul or birth of the being within, we exist eternal and unchanging, let the light of divine truth fill you and bliss the song unending. 

neverness and lessness

the neverness and lessness of living undone and without the rings of attached pieces. one wholeness wondering wandering without worry. only the being lives and all else is dying, what perfect rhythm and flow to the endless perfection that has nothing to remove or replace, hold up or create. the open soul sings without hesitation, the love pours within to be free and empties into the vast ocean of existence, filling it without substance or desire, the perfection holds everything untouchable, the light shines complete and finds darkness to rest upon. the waves shine cresting brilliant upon the deep and endless sea, deeper and darker where the light has found its end and sleeps eternal with its darkest brother where none can see. the life ends and living never ceases, one for all forever and all in one becomes eternally repeated. there is nothing, there is everything and like light it ends across untold expanses into a radiance that cannot be seen but shines within and never dims. is love a secret that is whispered in every beat and pulse and motion that swims from every breath to find air beneath a million miles of sky. what love we live in and light we sleep upon that lifts us into eternal slumbered realms of dreams completed and repeated until the morning skies unfold a newness without a memory of what was left behind.

sound echoes in my heart

sound echoes in my heart, a light vibration that sinks deeper as it penetrates my consciousness. bells ripple through coppered shells and beat upon the endless self washed upon the shore of being, empty solitary feeling every dimple of the rocky sand beneath the sky and pressed against the waters that brought me here. i count the pulse of the waves and the light of the sun warms the wetness i feel filling my senses and drowning my skin. i sink into the sand still warm and damp with salt and endlessly shifting to feel the touch and softness of every instant of existence. who is this burning with the desire to be, to experience to love and live so completely and never for an instant question such richness and enjoyment. i am alive and even as that sinks into the waves of bliss that push the tides of the ocean of love i rest in there is the emptiness that drops like a stone in the endless well falling to the center of existence touching nothing. that has no form, no senses, no desire, no delight, just infinity without matter. what freedom to never be, to never see, or feel, just disappearing endlessness enfolding nothing and what remains forever rests in motion. the open way is empty, the passage back is filled with endless delights, the darkness surrounds the light and the emptiness surrounds the blackest limits of awareness. and into that black hole the finite soul of man is born and from that darkness the infinite brilliance bursts forth as a candle of the heart, unafraid and wanting. every one is here in me in this collapsing universe, this pulsating flesh and wondrous dream of life everlasting that wears like a coat of spring flowers and whispers sweet forgetfulness and hopeless memories that never sleep. awaken all my children and live love and feel joy for my soul is bliss and my heart is forever giving, all this is yours and nothing shall be kept from you, the world is my promise and you the keepers of the secret, there is no end to the deathless soul and no beginning that you know. all is one precious instant of surrender to the everything and the nothing that is you.

one moment and the world is lost

one moment and the world is lost, the way back vanishes without sound or fury, just a wisp of memory and a brief wonderment of the times spent building that bridge to never and finding the treasure of life lost is less than the pain of being lost. purpose has no meaning it brings the truth without asking and lets the rest cry foul and unfair. what we cannot hold is thrust upon us and what we need to have is taken if we refuse to let it go. the least sought is the only prize, the end of the suffering that life brings with its unending sackfull of desires spent and burdened within the spell of the illusions and disappointments of loves lost and hopes dashed, missed opportunities and shrunken paychecks. what price vanity and envy's anger, is there anything in santa's bag that brings love unending and emptiness filled with infinite bliss? the checkered flag sits where none can reach it, the life too little to round the final lap where the engines silence and the abyss of elapsed time disappears. what little faith we carry as the endless finish awaits, the last second where we know the moments count and the race matters not where who you were is less than how you cared for others. what leaves is the emptiness we created and what remains is the love we shared. and the ring of being encircles every instant that is ours, we exist to become one thing, the one being, the true self that has no other but exists apart from the self we think we are. in that separation we become the whole life of existence, seeking its beginning as it races to its end.