if randomness is

if randomness is possible for a being that has no control or function except to witness, I see the earth as the plaything and all its inhabitants as toys of an incredibly brilliant and deadly creature of infinite power. and the brilliance is in the seduction of the awareness to take on consciousness of itself, to not only be aware but to sense the source of awareness as a point in this creation not completely free and undefined. I imagine the power to be fishing in a bucket filled with awareness and baiting the hook with desire, to exist, to imagine something matters, anything. and then to wrench that fishing pole out at the first nibble, setting the hook deep in the folded layers of wonderment and attraction, setting the catch into the pond of existence and illusion. here we are nothing attached to the brain stem of the illusion making machine being fed a constant stream of experiences that trap the awareness into pleasurable acceptance and identification, like the prisoners of the cinema watching first a love story then the holocaust comes. trapped by love they await the ending certain this cannot be the end then feeling the life slipping away as the screen darkens and falling into a deep slumber forgetting the source of pre-existence and the undying truth of awareness. nostalgia pulls the nothing back into a body, to re-experience the love the sweetness and then to suffer the horrors of its loss and destruction. all is the play and the veil of maya-prakriti the endless dance of seduction and entrapment. who is you asks the joker, as the suits and dresses and friends and possessions and beliefs slide uncomfortably away, leaving not just naked but disembodied and unconnected, the feeling of utter aloneness and unfamiliarity with who is it that is alone. to be alone without even yourself for company an aloneness beyond self, the hole in the middle of doughnut is the meal your here to eat. certainly after an eternity of identity, this is not possible to experience or should I say not experience because there is no one left in that place or time, no locus or congestion of eddies in the ether to be excited or affected. the last shred of who is you is nothing, the black hole in the center of everyone, the void of the self that everything is a distraction from. welcome to the truth, the massive lie of the creation, that anything remains when the show is over, awareness has no friends or possessions or place to be. it doesn't exist but existence is impossible without it. somehow everything is in it but it is not in anything. all is the result of its sacrifice but nothing alone is the result. the truth of the inner search is random, without meaning, it must be not experienced as there is no thing to be.

is there life after birth?

is there life after birth? does the idea of living frighten you? this world is just a test, the lights and colors wrapped round you like a kaleidoscope, the elements shaped into pleasing forms and textures, can you spot the things that don't belong? the world without self consciousness creating its own version of reality, seems peaceful, accepting, we might even say natural. that's the keyword here, whats this natural everyone wants to be? natural is this world without the industrial revolution, and what were we revolting against? nature, its inability to support our overpopulation, our desire to rule others, the imposition of man's I want over natures giving. the separation of the man animal from the rest of the livestock. bigger pens more food. until the man animal starts believing its different, better than the other animals, until the slavery and slaughter of the other animals is common and acceptable to all. then its just a hop skip and a jump to the slavery and killing of the excess population of our fellow humans. are we truly so stupid that our unnatural tendencies are so unnatural that it now extends to the total destruction of the food chain until everything is dependent on the output of gigantic agribusiness and the processed food combines so that people cant eat or drink except what is sold to them by giant businesses that have only profit and power as their focus? the new world order is the same old thing, divide and conquer, create camps of underprivileged and use them as the proving ground for new assaults on human decency and degradation of the natural life of this planet. there is little left of this world that is not destroyed by the greed of man, and the ability of small amounts of so called prosperity to wreak destruction of what remains is so swift and irreversible once established, its truly scary to see. much as the plague of the zombies is swift and final so too is the mindless destruction of thousands of years of natural life lived without modern gimmicks and foreign artificial food products, in just a few years time. whole generations are being weaned from simple farming and ancient devotion to the forces of the earth and sky to a mindless attraction for manufactured pleasures and a fierce desire for products of an alien lifestyle that does not replenish or live in harmony with the culture or the earth that has nourished centuries of their ancestors. what is lost cannot be put back, and moving forward is the assembly line of the new creation one that doesn't include human dignity or respect for the natural existence that has always been the only truth left for salvation of every life on this earth. this world is being bought packaged and sold, everything, the water the air the earth, stolen from the herdsmen and farmers, usurped from the elder fathers and mothers, and sold as bait to the new generation of internet smart phone addicts, too busy killing brain cells and giving away their lives to senseless pursuits of the flesh and fantasy. we deserve our world, whats left of it, without man's greed corrupting what remains.

is love more than truth

is love more than truth, emptiness less than love, tapestry of time and dance of space welcoming the end, for there is an end to all the universal beings as well. beyond the dual dominance of existence and death, elegantly featured in every life as the only two doors that are available and once one is used it cant be used again. the light shines from the window and what is behind the light is shrouded mystery, but here we can see where the light shines, and so this is the world and the drama and the life we imagine, under the lamp. imagining the possibility of something else, of a nature not both good and bad, true and untrue, bent and straight, that beyond the obvious there is an othering, a frightful nothingness of not this, but the words don't do it justice nor can the thought process contain its unworkablity. it has no place in this life, the world of magic and babies and fear and love and death, no, it has no link to this existence and so is dismissed outright as a fools game, what is the purpose to find what isn't there. yet what isn't there is exactly where we came from and are going to. not to this again as we so reverently pray each day for, to get up and eat and get ready and go do what we do until its time to stop and do something else, like the animals of the forest except in clothes and machines and buildings, but what is it we think death is, a party for the living? an escape from the drudgery and dullness a get out of jail free card? this time I am here to ask, what if its nothing, not anything, the end of all things and creations and dreams. no resurrection or judgment or heaven or hell, no creation of this world at all but the absolute end. the mass of life is empty action, painfully self inflicted problems and the unknotting and retying of the same knots. spiritual seeking is to find the end of the rainbow where the problems are erased by a greater understanding, of this life, of this world or worlds or layers or hierarchies. there is only the one door and the other, we have all used one door already and the other is all that remains. every day the play struggles from the bed or the floor or the bar from one set of arms to another, from the light to the dark to find happiness to be distracted to carefully find the way through the maze of requirements to live or super live to understand or experience or lose oneself to find another way. but the door awaits and behind its empty opening, there is no life, no self, no other to be or become. the body leaves, the mind stops, the self dissipates with the last electrical impulse of the brain. there is a nothingness, that has no place or time and empties everything into the maw of destruction, the final light of shiva's fire. refuge, there is none but the acceptance, the truth, that has no love, so in this world be thankful when a little comes your way and hold it tight until its gone, because the truth awaits always.

the unwinking eye

the unwinking eye, knotted with the ancient force of druidic attraction, pursued through emptiness upon the rotating tower of Babel, alone no longer at last or at least a miracle of underdevelopment, passage via directly massaging the inner inclinations, left here pondering the awakened freedom and the infinitesimal bondage to any and all, contracting around and around the ceaseless fire greater than all devotion and denial, becoming forever and ending time, space, continuity. water grants the oceans dominion and sends away the drowning life forms unable to breathe such fluid misery. what arises from the alien depth becomes the living exiles from the breast of salty suckling. this empty generation after generation beats upon each door, calling forth the new believers and vanishing in the night. sun and moon alike depart and the faithful eyes of the dark sparkle and dance in ritual sacrifice and unabashed awe for the cosmic canvas serene in its detail and unstoppable congregation. watch not the curtains mystery, but rather test the evenings basilica and feel the harmonium of burial and brevity,  all a dirge of practiced spontaneity, all drums riding the unstoppable rhythm of time marched endlessly  through the mindless crowds seeking only communion with the dead. day filled with rain and pagan glory, the orgy of wetness and mildew beneath every foot fallen. one touches the feet beneath the sky and kisses the earth below these sandaled arches, bending down and down slow with the practiced pushing of the neck and the setting of the yoke of liberation. crow now the cock cries and all darkness flees its angry bravado and vain strutting. bringing flowers to the altar one atop the others, as another funeral vanishes from the cupola and sings with the angels choir.

what is truth

what is truth, the elusive prize, the lie, the foundation of being, this perfected existence. in one sense, truth is unknowable, truth envisions some infinite awareness that has perception beyond the duality of all existence and therefore extends beyond the boundaries of the knowable, leaving mans small mind behind, yet man is more than mind and more than flesh, there is the psychic, the intuitive the undefined region of mans relationship to the universal. but that's where it ends, the descriptions are of the approach and the leaving not the truth itself. Ramana Maharshi espoused the practice of asking who am I for to know that is to somehow approach the truth of who we are. but it is not in the knowing of that but rather the knowing of not that not that until there is nothing left. then once the mind has been subtracted the true self can emerge, wordless and wonderment, empty yet filled with all, eternal yet in the finite realm of man, the experience has no description but exists truthfully in the heart. the result of years of practice or the unexpected explosion of awareness from the mundane yet painful knowledge of ones lacking in this world, the truth shocks the system and leaves the world a small matter to be dealt with as needed not as the reason for living. life seems a starting point, like a child in their first year of school, more interested in the colors on the ceiling than the teacher or the studies, each life is a study of restraint and letting go, the denial of truth and its seeking. one moment awash in the only things that bring pleasure and the next fed up with the laxity and looseness of the fickle flesh. ways to circumvent the truth are the giving up since man is only weakness and cant be held responsible to the fact that once found lifes sweetness has no more pull and what once mattered becomes the daily chore of throwing out the garbage and tearing out the walls where you used to live. in the end the life choices are always to improve, to do better to increase the efficiency or to maximize the potency or somehow be better at what it is you do or want. some its better avoidance others its the clinging to beliefs, all are dreaming they don't want to awake for the last moment of knowing the life is over is too tragic too painful or too dear. but we are the end of ourselves eventually, our own best friend and worst enemy awaiting someone to notice the flaws and the victories but realizing there is no one but the self alone and terrified of discovering the truth, that there is nothing contained in the self, nothing that will endure or even change what is, and to experience the ultimate is to die no matter how grandiose this life is. no one escapes and this evens the playing field, saint and sinner alike, rich and poor powerful and weak. there is only consciousness untouched and alive in everyone, awaiting the signal, the torch to burn away the clutter and reveal the uncut jewel of the inner being, the true Self that each experiences alone. truth has no words to say but releases what is hidden as it pushes its way to the consciousness. not this not this it says and the life you lived falls and becomes the stones that step to the next door of unveiling, stepping through to what could not be known before. 

before I was born

before I was born I chose this life, this role, these roles, to live out. not for myself but for the creation of truth consciousness.  the state of attaining the greatest expression of love and truth as not possibilities but the elements which make up this life. to each there is the choice, the roles are written and need actors to play them, to be hurt and to be exalted, to complete the finality of the divine being, to be the undeniable love that creates the universe, to heal the schism of denial and repression, to play out the part that extends the folding of time and space into a universal moment unending and expressing the ultimate and universal truth, that all is the all. all is every one of us and expresses itself through our sacrifice and uplifting death or rejection and suffering ending in death for there is only the finite exploding into the infinite as it cannot hold the middle but only the ends. I know I chose in this life to love, to be and to chase and to find and to lose all that could be and to only be satisfied with the ultimate truth of love, not the end points that define the limitations but the fullness of the ultimate being of love, in delightful harmony or in monastic ecstasy, all is love finding its true source and becoming a conduit for every truth about love to express itself through the consciousness that is in everyone of us. I have no doubt that everything I do was chosen before my birth, to seek the absolute and find every expression of it and share what I find. I know most of what I write is littered with unintelligible gibberish as my mind fades into the experience and my words fail me, but this life needs only to be lived to be true, to complete the facets of what is needed and the telling of the story that is being written as I live it. love beyond knowing, even beyond telling, a place without air or separation where flesh is the inevitable but not yet created and only the divine exists. to have been there and to be here where the flesh is the creation and the inevitable is the divine, there too all men live and die but none know the worth of their sacrifice but to suffer or to delight in the suffering, for without the eternal self encompassing all with consciousness, the soul remains asleep and awaits the awakening from within that must ring the bell in the belfry of the self. that dreamless state of life is not living but rather the ultimate knowing experiencing the truth of the Self in the self, only a few can play the role of the awakened and even fewer the awakener. the soul slumbers but sleeps not, everything everywhere is awakening when the Self arises. two children seek the light of the self in each other long before they are born and even in death they know all is the measure of their ability to be that or to fail in that and all is never lost or gained but is always the expression of the divine. in the heart of the universe love is created and evolves in the consciousness of each soul living as the expression of this evolution. and just as the truth has only one source and an infinite number of expressions, so too is the untruth and the denial and the rejection all part of the expression and summation of the experiential nature of its aspects.one life is the opposite of another though both play the same roles, reading the same parts, being the divine and the undivine, to express the weight of the living through the unknowable aspects of the universal forces at play.

life is like my hair

life is like my hair, one day clean and smooth, next day tangled and dull. same hair, difference day. just returned from deepest south india and a very personal darshan with my master Ayya. 15 hours of local india buses to arrive in kanyakumari, next morning go to the small yard where Ayya lives in his tiny bamboo tipi. we are told he has cancelled all visits and darshan for the past ten days and we must sit and wait beyond the gate. as soon as we stand there, myself, johti and our friend from Poland on his first visit to see Ayya. Ayya's daughter who manages all the cooking and cleaning and organization of shopping and all slowly builds the fire and prepares morning chai for the Master. as I stand outside looking in at the thatched  coverings on all the structures I feel a tremendous energy enter my crown chakra and descend swiftly through my system. I am on fire and baking internally like a kiln, the dry heat even produces an odor of bricks firing.i see other dimensions and feel strangely naked inside. Ayya is giving me his darshan blessing and looking what my system is ready to shift and I am dizzy with the speed and the heat of his blessing. this life is so swiftly come and gone, yet here the moment is all this intimacy with the divine reaches beyond the pale outline of self and transforms into the absolute that which is present and surrendered, I kneel within to his divine presence and feel the washing of my soul.even as I write this I am dizzy with the feeling of having no ground to stand on only the dimensionless surface of truth. I sit before the stone wall and spin in my tempest of supreme love and energetic movement. I am both sick and perfectly feeling each atom in my body connected each intuitive whole aligned with no thought and no feeling. I am empty and so filled with the divine heat. eyes closed, mind blank heart filled with openness. I am done before we begin. over the next three hours we are brought twice before His white energetic presence in the form of a wizened brown yogi. he gives us leaves and betel and the sand he lives upon. he blesses our cloths and blesses us with his presence. each moment I am before him I am in complete surprise. mind is perfectly empty heart full and I am looking al absolute nothing, emptiness and I cannot function. only in the afterwards can I realize what happens, in the moments before him, there is nothing, I think only the surprise of sudden brilliant light, that freezes the senses. the deer in the headlights feeling, and then I am somewhere else, time has passed and I start to realize that I exist. this is the master and I a tiny student of such immensity and force. never have I seen such truth that is transmitted through me so completely. to experience the end of self just being in the presence. and I realize we are sitting for an hour feeding the mosquitos as I have no memory, no sense of time. delicious rice and spicy chutney is given us on metal plates hot and tasty. my insides begin to come alive again. his daughter feeds us and gives us seconds and thirds as we are the only guests today at this special darshan for Johti and his western friends. never have I been so thankful and then so struck with tears of gratitude as we leave with his special photograph given to us. now I can have a picture larger than a postage stamp of him to gaze at and to feel his darshan, for he has blessed each photo and looked me directly as I held it before him. I am a twig before his might tree and limbs encircling the sky. a babe in his woods, yet I feel only protected from the closeness of pure emptiness and feel the darkness as the form of space and time slowing down the unending and unstoppable nothing that is everywhere. one moment with him and my life is unfounded like no words or action could explain or experience. I am a hollow tube and he the sucking force pulling the juice forth from the vastness beyond where I cannot reach through me and filling me yet not me as he is but the me that has only this body to know with. the truth like the light is in the tube I am and flows without disturbance, yet I am changed forever to hold this brilliance that has no color, even for a moment, all time has ceased and can never end. life difference where man and divine  connect, here only is truth shifting ceaseless change into unchanging stillness. one minute is too much to imagine yet eternity is nothing. now many hours later, sitting in my home and writing this, I am in love beyond knowing and bliss freely flowing. for life this is living and no end can stop this

Valentine, meaning containing valor

Valentine, meaning containing valor, as many of the early Christians did during the intense persecution in the centuries following the crucifixion of Christ. the truth of the lives of the fanatical sect called Christ lovers, the constant imprisonment and torture and violent death of the followers of Jesus. in a time when there was little else for the common man, the tradesmen and peasants, to believe in. where the rich controlled all and celebrated their power and wealth without restraint. wars were fought for dominion and wealth with nations unknown to the men forced into fighting for the power drunk emperors and kings of the times. in the 100 to 1000 AD centuries, mens lives were forfeit if they did not conform their thinking and actions to the will of their tyrannical leaders. St Valentine was a bishop in this illegal church, during the late 200's. he secretly married the soldiers who were forbidden to marry, and gave aid and comfort to the followers of jesus . he was arrested and thrown into jail where he was brought before the judge who told Valentine that if he could cure his blind daughters sight, he would let him go. the miracle of the blind girls sight restored is catalogued in many versions of the life of St Valentine, and is the reason for the Sainthood. St Valentines day was actually a celebration of his violent death at the hands of the romans. being clubbed and stoned and when that did not kill him, he was finally beheaded on February 14 269 AD. of course all this is historical fiction/fact as these stories were the popular fictions of the time to promote Christianity and to entertain the populace. the popularity of Jesus was unique at the time for a non royalty, truly a early media star before any others. those who chose to follow him became adept at manipulating word of mouth campaigns to promote their beliefs. of course these rebels of their times became the world dominating catholics that established their own liturgy and torture and murder of dissenters and non believers. until finally the idea of a world dominating religion has lost its charm in a world of electronic communication and the exalting of the physical pleasures over any pie in the sky beliefs. the idea of believing so strongly in some idea or ideal that you would be willing to die for it has become passé,  nowadays aggression is taken out on video games and young men are turned into corporate junkies, living on the money high, the roller coaster of financial success/ruin. the bulls run at wall street now and the children dare the horns of the corporate killers and thieves. all life is forfeit now to the demands of the corporate rulers and soon the belief that there is a better life in some spiritual commune or practice will finally arrive to restore the truth of mans purpose here. not to die for the almighty dollar but to tear down the walls of the financiers and war machine factories, to envision a future free from greed and power. followers of love and human compassion, helping others even at the cost of your own life, what circumstances could make this become the reality? we live in times of extreme control and suppression for man is being manipulated into enslaving himself for the sake of the wealthy to protect their gold. someday this too must end and the blood of the innocent will fill the streets. Happy Valentines day!

yoga today

yoga today, my every other day practice. I've noticed the changes in my body, leaner, my balance improved, stronger stomach/core muscles. I can do intense climbing and exposure to heat with less pain and exhaustion. my energetic system is cleaner, less stuck, the energy flows smoothly from the deep meditations at the top of the mountain to the free movement dance/kirtan sessions. I sit with my back straight, not leaning on a support, for hours in a half lotus on rocky ground and I feel the downward flowing energies swiftly permeate my chakras. the kundalini is awake flowing up the spine and sleep is a precious commodity. my 4 to 5 hours a night are so beneficial. I cant imagine I spent the last 40 years not doing yoga and survived. its a testament to the restorative nature of the human body that I have not died from disease over the last ten years. meditation the last 4 years did reduce the tension and stress of life and removed major anxieties, but only the yoga actually improves the system, strengthening and elasticizing the musculature and the nervous system. the blood is more oxygenated and the organs less inflamed. I come from a very strong parentage the dna filled with excellent codes. the family genetics seem to support long and robust life. my hope is that the yoga will offset the tendency towards mental deterioration that so often comes to old age. of course what is old anymore. im seeing people in their 60's doing daily hikes up the mountain and with a shine in their faces and a love in their hearts that would have seemed unlikely to me 20 years ago. my father is in his 90's, my friends turning up to the 70's.  I don't see life slowing down, the sense of adventure the ability to expound on life and love and work and spirit. what can I do to keep this sense of youth, my inner consciousness does not change, but the body and face have. its only yoga and exercise that can keep the body tuned and young at heart, I feel the pleasant strength of my limbs, as the upper body gets a workout from the sun salutes and floor work on the mat. there is still stiffness in my lower back from the incessant climbing I do on the alternate days. my divine yoga teacher, from france, Tillicho, has helped me sooo much and her perfect lightness and brilliance inspires me. but next week she leaves for Thailand and I am needing to write down the asanas and the stretches so I can do the work on my own. ive been doing yoga now for a year, since last march in NY at the Divine Shakti Center and then with Kumari, kumaridotcalm.com, at Frazier Park in the mountains, and now with my present teacher in tirvannamalai India, I think I should be able to do my own hour and a half of stretches and asanas. so I promise not to deviate from my perfect path of health and strength and become my own yoga teacher. or maybe I can just find another class before everyone leaves town.

i used to look forward

i used to look forward to my day off, but now, its frightens me. the lack of purpose, meaning, what does a day off bring, that enveloping anxiety, the emptiness of hours to just look at walls and feel the absence, of anyone and anything to relieve this eternal pressure, this expanded sense and ground. always being open, to the larger senses, the unknown openings, this life without doors or walls or windows, and then to be in them without a point of contact, to drift like dust in the breeze, the dust that covers everything here and needs swept everyday, that universal reduction of elements to the ubiquitous sameness of granular perfection, dust.and in that form i have lost my sense of where or in what manner or direction, for its meaningless to go when all directions lead here.i cannot wait eternally or be in this senseless state with nothing and no one. it has no color or design, no pattern or texture. its lacks the comforts of recognition and offers only the lack of anything else. i am there in my one room, the clothes washing the floors clean, the dishes put away and no hungry, not lacking just endless being though the sense of time stretches or twists as the sun rises and eventually will set and like the stars above, the moon collects and passes through almost silently though i hear the whisper of its madness as it too sits unwinding without a strand of understanding. calls go unanswered, notes never finished sit in draft pigeonholes that have no size or shape or place, and my life too sits in there away from everything like an unused thought or a forgotten memory. where is this hole i cannot see and what is the picture my eyes reflect all around.i am in paradise but what is that and who is there. i cannot remember myself and theres no one to remind me. the life i remember is gone, the existence i have is untouchable, it has no dimension or taste. i go and come but nothing moves, there is no difference here or there. one moment is just like all moments and what difference can be where all is the same. i know this life has just as much joy as depression but what is it without either. this looks like nowhere even in the midst of it all.

though I know this seems like self abuse it is the world between past and future and before joy and after suffering, it is not pain but rather a blank wall of indifferent diameter that surrounds the sense of loss, the sense of not being some continuation of what I was and rather having stepped off the plane in mid flight. the falling becoming neutralized by the tremendous altitude until one forgets that there is land below or space above. and yet when the land does rise up and the sky alights with dawns rosy orange light and birdies become the firecrackers of dawn, there is sublime pleasure, enjoyment delight that is untouched by any remnant of the past or uncertainty of future. this instant becomes a reduction until just the essence is refined and the one drop tasted that is indefinable and unexplainable. i'm not the end of myself but the beginning of what is being born, the silence and the cry for life bound into all possibilities and let float upon the stillness and move effortless through the storm. there is no sense of entitlement or expectation but to give to serve and to do what is possible to let love flourish.

all sense forfeit

all sense forfeit, this endeavor not lightly taken, where time and worth are lost and only the waiting within solitary and necessary remains. the light of natural simplicity pares away pretense and pleasure until only the barest outline of what was remains. each iteration of the prayer the calling the sunless awakening reverberates slowly as round the circuit every day and night traversing the infinite possibilities of a singular sojourn through the layers of daily life, and expanding the realm of tremendous affection and respect for every living being and element, there is truth, the lonely rider, atop the transport of living flesh, caring for the noble steed as if it were the self and not some faltering vehicle. the only path remains perfectly concealed within and not in the rocks and dirt below. no map or direction reveals its movement and eyes wide and pointed at themselves leads directly to the trail and locates neither direction to follow. inward and away is the only possibility, storing each step as a generator fills the transmission lines, the wires humming with the energy, seeking release but finding none. time like a staircase wrapped round the mightiest pillar of physical experience trickles down the waterfall of delight and remembrance only to fade and submerge into a likeness of the endless repetition of steps taken long before and now echoing with their falling timbre down and up both losing touch as the effort becomes not in the pushing or pulling but in the flow of consciousness rushing like the Amazonian current of being, submerged in some worldly spinning and turning as each wave each rivulet reveals new pockets of unexplored memories of ancient personalities washed ashore as the wake and whirlpools stream and eddy by. there is no source but the sameless self the empty one that has no name or reflection, it sits silent and unresponsive to the rising tides and darkening half moon like slumbers that come upon  the traveler through these uncharted places with no names no familiar faces. but the light is shining from the shores, the beatific natures of every glowing being, adrift or come together apart or enmeshed in the rivers portless drama, the down winding flow that carries each alone and drenched in the sameness of the journeys and the differences that make no difference, the slow even movement or the crazed flailing in the rapids all seeks the same end, the ocean unseen beyond the end of time, where giant creatures of subterranean origin delight in the final destination of the spawning grounds of consciousness.

4am getting ready

 4am getting ready for the climb, to the top of arunachala. I've been in a delightful state these past two days, filled with a fluidity of motion and acceptance, happy, content, definitely singular. I experience each moment without a connection to the next. doing yoga, meditation, silence, a lot of silence. I feel sometimes the whole space of my life sits neatly between two points of importance, awake asleep. I exist in that little space between. I've been to Varanasi and Rishikesh, definitely beautiful. Rishikesh reminded me of the hilly western Sonoma county. I think the area called Kashmir in the North would be a lovely place to go.of course this time of year its quite cold and wet/snowy. but right now I feel the energy here in tiru as we call it, is building and building. and I have been storing it up like a bear for winter. and now I get this very light and floaty feel to life, like im not here, then something comes along to test me, yesterday my shoes were stolen from my porch and I have to really wonder, as no one comes here, its definitely a karmic purging. I felt upset at first, but then just let go. I have few things, but I guess compared to the average indian, im a millionaire.so I said a prayer for the theif and hoped all would be done. back to my old wornout Kirkland walkers. today is buy a ticket home day. about 6 weeks away. for some reason I resist buying the ticket even though I see the very best deal and time. maybe im just being the endlessness of here and now, resistant to change and necessity, for what seeks its own reward and finds no pleasure in its harvest of broken promises. I am not a thing or a plan or some place to get to. what is clear is the means and the requirements, from that I do or don't as comes to pass and from that I decide what to do, what to feel what I am. for not being someone, some set of actions or non actions, a result of or coming to pass, I cannot see the future any more than I can feel the past. some things are lost to me, like knowing or deciding, I act as the conscious will of a divine being, I accept slowly what comes. unattached you say, unbuckled from the seat belt unplug the airbag, foot firmly on the accelerator. what life brings is what we avoid, the steering wheel is loose and the road wanders, I too find the prospect of dementia uncomforting, though certainly only when I realize whats happening. every member of my mothers family had very progressive dementia in their 60s and 70s. while my father shows no such sign in his 90s. so I guess its a crap shoot for us progeny whats to come. I watched my mom shit the floor and rub her fingers in it. so I guess its all too real for me. about the house, what im really expressing is a desire to call some place home base, I reach into my bag of who I am and that's not there anymore. and it hurts to be adrift, to have no place of my own, to want to go back to the mountain but feel the pain of separation. I guess anyplace is fine, I just need it to be separate from everything else, an island in the river, a dock for my soul to rest on to tie up to. my friend  is still coming but the time frame is dependent on her own house being taken by the bank. and her finances and her relationships, because any woman as attractive as her has no shortage of choices. but I think she wants a new life a new series of experiences and the normal relationship is far too limiting for that. so I guess it could all fall into place but whether its india or Hawaii remains to be seen. all love is sacrifice and surrender to what is, the eternal acceptance of life as our most wondrous gift. I examine my own self, the bits and parts im made of and find nothing remarkable, deficiencies and overload, self examination reveals the shortages of the examiner not the examined, yet as both I find one cannot help the other until a truth is reached, for I am not this and this and this but rather every time I find myself I am not that but another kind of life, one that hasn't found its planet. this world is the curtain, this night sky the face of the clock, the sun some unlikely god, yet from where all things flow, we find just more of the same, the repetitive nature of existence, a series of buildups from a single structure, repeated ad infinitum and from this consciousness comes, to count the rings and repetitions and deduce that all is strictly bunk and we the slaves of our own freedoms.i grant this moment liberty from need and want, to not have to or want to but just to stop all sameness and wait for the unknowable to become real. I haven't a real thing to say but to be alive and slowly becoming some other process of being that hasn't been that like puberty changes the way I see everything, this is the life divine yet I think even that word lacks the truth of evolution. I am reptile becoming fish, swine into penguin, is it too much too soon, I feel a little unnerved, a little distant from the shores of solidity, maybe this is the end, the beginnings always look like the ends, near and very final. love to you too

the metaphysical diagram for love

the metaphysical diagram for love is surrender service devotion the three points of the triangle within the circle, the circle is truth the triangle is man, we are the hard edges of the inner life where truth and the physical body intersect, here lies the madness of possession, the heartbreak of disregard and the finality of awakening. the soul exists everywhere at once, but experiences everything through the layers of the triple body, the physical, the mental, the psychic. where is the heart you may ask, the heart is a physical organ that senses the psychic which touches upon every point of the universe. how is truth known, only through the psychic. that which is true resonates through everything, has no limitation from thought or desire, moves with the light and is transparent to darkness. each thought of divine each feeling of spirit, the empathic connection of all human beings is reflected in the eternal self, for there are no lesser beings or greater beings than the ancient being that is the source of every thought, deed and transcendental experience of humankind. what remains intact through all life is consciousness, neither aging or changing, true awareness is always present and requires no vessel, but consciousness that lives in awareness is ever seeking the channel for its self generating aspects of I-ness and am-ness. in each heart the voice soothes the frightened mind, be not afraid for I AM here and in every face the voice is speaking silently, I AM here.
when I awake the night is silent, the birds asleep the streets like a wind whispering in the distance, fade and rustle in the quiet. my heart an empty ocean, reaches into the eternal sea and fills with the song of the earth and sky and sea. alive it sings, in love, it refrains, I Am always here with thee. there is no truth but this, the life is only that of the smallest conscious division of the whole and in every division like every drop there is the entirety reflected. what surrenders is the mind to forgive and let go of the smallness and the pettiness of desire and possession and allow the whole universe of being to replace the tinker toy life of the ego. here true service and love and devotion come forth and the life of man becomes the living for all mankind, we touch each other with a clean soul an unblemished heart that accepts everything and is aware of nothingness beyond.
in love the heart empties, the sense of living expands to include the love of everything from the least of the smallest to the greatest majestic epiphanies of the soul. I sit in a splendor so serene and complete, I feel the entire rock of the earth under me, holding me as a mother caresses her child, for I am the son of god and the father of all men, ageless and brought forward to seek the truth for all men, the treasure of the heart and the temple of the soul, the center of consciousness that sits in the center of the body, the center of creation, flowing from every soul awake or unconscious, we form the light into miracles of existence and hold tightly to the hand of god reaching from your heart. I sit in the splendor of your inner gaze and am at peace with this life, this purpose this manifestation. I share what is true and foolishly take what the body cannot hold, the undying truth, and transform this shell into the pure flesh of the creator, painting with the blood of the spirit and the colors of the heart.