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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

the exact measure of redemption

the exact measure of redemption is the number of miracles you experience. once you reject the falseness of your thoughts and live completely from your heart, wherever that may guide you, the universe becomes a part of your life, you become an active force of the universe and resist nothing that is given you. taking is the opposite of accepting, what is given you have no need to take, just accept with gratitude and humility, with open heart and trust that all the universe is within you and nothing exists that is not yours already. then the truth of who you are is regained and the sins of a million lives are instantly redeemed. Compassion is all that separates the emptiness from the universe. to feel the endless wounds of the billions of souls locked in the nightmare and twisted fantasies of living disconnected from the source of their existence, to know that that too is yours and is created by you and to give all love no matter the depth of their pain or hatred, that is the universe within coming out as the being you truly are. there is no love but that which you bring and in the entire universe this is true, you are the lover you are the beloved, the sufferer and the torturer, the imprisoned and the jailer, the freedom fighter and the oppressor, there is nothing you are not. The moment encompasses all and in the very soul of the tiniest creature you are and becoming even greater and greater truth and freedom and love eternally.

present, undisturbed

present, undisturbed even by the passage of the time that beckons my soul to its distraction and certain end, this never leaves me, the ancient one, one timeless instant that encompasses all disconnected awareness, irresistible experience, unstoppable motion, accelerating through every particle of existence, exploring all spatial perception in absolute stillness. i remain untouched, undamaged, unchanged. within there is no end or beginning of any creation or destruction, all is continuous and unmoving. a feathered beast wrapped in dawns mantle of desire and wonder, struck forth to find the indescribable prey of being, hungry to feed the litter of the unawakened clan, or to feed on the souls still dormant and dying. there is no religion of hunger or starving zealots of the body's need, one feeds until satisfied, one sits until hunger returns. the latent soul twists in the torment of the beast, locked in an inseparable terror and glistening fear that all life is doomed and one has no hope of freedom from this unending annihilation. from the beginning to the end all is feast and famine, there is no settled land and comfortable home but the emptiness that fills every action, each result and stifles all that grasp and plead. this life in emptied fullness, has no bearing but to point unerringly at the truth that has no words but only the devotion to the soul, the inner journey that tears away the boat from its moorings and sinks into unknowable depths where no breath can escape the living and no water can soothe the thirst. in depths beneath the life unlived there is the final redemption of the flesh and the end of the slavery of the soul. one love one consciousness one being beyond the reaches of all turmoil and distraction, beyond even breath and death, what lives dies and what dies becomes the food of the living.

fire flickering in the pre dawn

fire flickering in the pre dawn beneath the giant pines, outside is inside, the world turned inside out, within and without me. i pray with every breath ,a litany of gratitude for the chill ,the warm socks, the clean air crisp in my chest, my eyes to see this full moon light before anyone wakes.before the sun intrudes upon my lovers kiss and my hearts secret in the deepest moments of the nights journey. is this love that every moment steals a kiss upon my heart. what does anything matter when there is only bliss, only this moment to exist and never end or die or empty from the fullness of living, even in the midst of becoming nothing there is this, again and again. if more slender, more fragile i could never survive the end of what is perfect, to accept there is no end and to become only that which is given. sunrise, like the eyes of truth, wipes clear the magic of the night and fills the mystery with the perfect form and shape and texture of this world. to journey is to lift the veil, leave the expected and perfected for the becoming of the nights surrender and the hopeless revelation of the light. the truth is magic enough without the pump of promise and expectation, each step the crush of earth and leaf, home of every tiny insect and organism, shattered as i come to be, to see, to know who it is that crushes me.