there is no end to life

there is no end to life but there is an end to living. the truth of life the being in the center is forever alone and has no place to be, that is the endless truth and in living the experience changes as all things do and there is clinging to the other and holding to a thing because we feel the center is shifting and is not in the self but somewhere outside. the heart seeks love just as the body seeks nourishment and in the absence of that there is hunger. what am I but the one the individual and the everything and the absence of self that contains nothing.i seek nothing but I feel the disconnection from that which was my home and my friends and now there is only the absence where before the flow was present. yet nothing has changed but the illusion of who I am and the place I inhabit and the world that is but the accumulation of the beliefs I seek to let go. this is just another way to live, without and empty not adding on more and more to a world that is filled already. the love is only in me and nowhere else, its not for the lazy heart to just drink at the spigot of anothers creation, there is no other and there is no one near. I am lost and cannot be found, for where everything is is not where I am. how to be less and not more, not up or down not needy but fulfilled in a world of deathless circumstance and lifeless meanings, I take the walk but go nowhere, eat yet have no appetite, sleep without rest, the world swirls and falls into emptiness around me. yet nothing changes nothing is lost or found, the moment reveals itself and I am there without any effort or desire. can this be love, not wanting but having what is not needed.

the well of meditation

the well of meditation, emptying the context of consciousness, all content removed, all thought rescinded, alone in the emptiness, there is no place or position, the body gone, the light unseen, not an absence but undifferentiated, no movement of senses or experience, the cave of the inner world turns inside out and becomes everything. one singular unexpressed, untapped potential without expression, endless as well as unbegun, in this place  recognize the everlasting truth, the being unadorned, untouched, that which in life is the spirit sense of the untouchable self, the innermost radiance, that permeates everything but is not a part of the thing itself. there is only this and all else is the race to escape from it, to create the castles in the sky and the dreams of unending brilliance to become to create to add on and on. but what persists, what is unchanging and true in all of this, the container of the consciousness that has no content, no experience no virtual existence no sensation that creates desire, or desire that creates satisfaction that turns to dissatisfaction that becomes anger and wants more. nothing is the truth, everything is the deceiver, the world of the make believe that has ends and beginnings and cannot remain still but is forever in flux, changing, that robs all sense of truth from the experiencer and dissolves into the formless both before and after its expression. where did you come from, where are you going to, who are you. this breath of consciousness that bubbles up from the void and collapses again there leaving nothing, the instant of existence is burst and gone, just as it begins it ends and the experience so great soon is as if it never existed. the layers of the illusion are deep and the permutations of the dreamers unimaginable. yet it is irresistible and can never be stopped in its overwhelming power, it is all and everything will forever change  and ultimately be destroyed and used as fuel for the next movement for what can power this unending production but the force of belief and the attachment to the drama, all are prisoners of this seductive maya and their own creators of their illusion. only the truth dispels all suffering and madness. only the emptied being, returning to the universal unborn undying state can know freedom even as the world crashes all around. there is   a truth and it has no existence. 

each morning, I walk

each morning, I walk, along the mountain standing above the san andreas fault, looking to the west, to the sea where santa maria and the coastal communities lay. there is only consciousness that walks, only the divine, the manifesting satchitananda of being created and experiencing its own creation. alone atop the world diving into the layers and layers of experience, becoming the separated self and then rising to the surface where all life exists. to become one piece of the floating debris and yet sunk deep into the ocean of being not separated but divine in every particle every skin cell, every molecule of being human that is the divine wish, the pure expression of the force the universal force that wishes all existence to be. and to know its being, to be conscious in the moment of all that has brought being into matter and expressed it as this entity of its manifestation, this experiencer that becomes the experienced the lover that becomes loved, the father that is the child and the birth that becomes lost in the world of endless birth and the death that is lost in the unending destruction, for what exits but change and what comes but it goes and all life is perfection of the moment and the corruption of that into the past. holding onto the pavement with feet ancient and movement through all time and space into a realm of undivided attention the world streams like water filling every nook and cranny of the surface of the world, every crack and crevice and then rising like an eternal ocean burying all semblance of feature or difference and in the unstoppable sea all things melt and become the source of what is and know only that sameness that pure being of the universal self. and then the water flows into the center of the world and the fresh nature of differentiation returns, in every detail unique and splendid, natural and unnatural all things as they are radiate the divinity within and gratitude for that, for the purity of all that has no beginning or end that incorruptible truth that is the source and is the expression and is the experience of existence. and this life this moment is that for everyone.

on the world of Tea

on the world of Tea in tealand where everyone has a giant teapot on their heads, their tea is everything, they start as little tea cups with a tea bag and their parents add their teas to the cup, then their friends and teachers, as they grow they learn to transform their teacups into teapots. everyone carries their tea with great pride and talk about how their tea was fashioned, some are dark and bitter some light and fresh, and everyone shares tea at tea time and its almost always tea time. well this tea was handed down through generations and this is a brand new improved tea and tea tea tea all the time. one day a fine young teapot went wandering down the well kept miles of tea gardens and tea plantations and decided to go exploring in the tea mountains where he heard exotic herbs and spices could be found to mix into his tea. after a few days of wandering through the forests and mountains where he had sampled some of the very strange plants he had found and experienced wonderful flavors and scents he never before imagined, he came upon a small cave, as he peered inside he saw a horrible sight, a t-man without his teapot, he looked like a ragged shaggy mound seated upon the dirt. he rushed in to see if the poor pot was alive, it lay next to the shaggy mound barely distinguishable from the rocks and dirt, it had lost all its teapottiness. he heard the mound make some noise and he bent to see if the teaman was alive. the shaggy face spoke softly, let me put on my teapot so you will understand what I have to say. and he placed the battered old pot on, the boy asked why he didn't have a pot and what possessed him to live without tea. tea is what life is isn't it? the old man beckoned the boy closer and spoke, boy, he says, how can you fill a tea cup that is already full? you must first empty your pot before you can drink my wisdom. go sit upon the rock outside and pour out your tea. then can you enjoy the true tea of life. there is a vast ocean of tea, it is the source of all teas, and one drop from this ocean renders all other teas unnecessary. this divine tea fills every pot forever never ending with a taste that none can describe. but I cannot mix this tea with the foul brew that you have filled yourself with. go out and enlighten you pot so it may be filled with nectar unlike any you have ever tasted. so the boy, intrigued went out and sitting very still he opened the spigot of his pot and let his tea go, emptying emptying until only the dregs remained. he reentered the cave and sat still as the old man instructed him, focus on the emptiness within your pot, there is no tea that you are, you are not your tea, there is a deeper tea, a tea that flows like a river through everything. don't resist the tea become its depth and its flavor, one you have never tasted, you don't fill you pot with this tea, you become the tea, you are the tea. there is no pot, there is no cup there is no saucer, there is only the ever widening ocean of tea and from it all teapots are filled. this is abundance my son, this is everlasting tea and no teaman has created this tea, this is the tea of the universal pot, the never ending tea of all existence. you are this tea and this tea is you. you were created to find this tea within, not to create your own tea but to share in the universal tea of creation from which all others teas were made. now let go of your pot and feel the freedom of potlessness, for within you all tea resides.

each one of us is Christ

each one of us is Christ and the crucifixion, joan of arc and the burning stake, looking for the one true thing that makes this life meaningless in the face of its absolute necessity, the spark that devours all in its conflagration and destruction, leaving only the manifest proof of the divine in our consciousness. this world has lost its meaning in the play of greed and power, every life a pawn and few knights or castles remain in the game. the world tilts with the inequities and preponderance of unconscious negligence and self directed actions, forgetting the complete sacrifice of love that brought each into this existence. giving from the heart is all we have, and accepting from the humble soul this tiny role is enough to change even the entire world if done with sincere love and heartfelt intention, for its not the work we do but that we do work and we give all from our heart as we do it, not for a reward but for its own joy, to be alive to be giving and to be able to give, no heart is too small no gift too unimportant, for one touch of love changes the world, everyone is pulled to its soft sweetness and like a childs happiness brings a smile into every heart. life is for the living, the giving, the transforming of moment to moment the experience of love. one heart unwound, turned from the self to the world, filled with the purity of who everyone is, in their deepest soul, in their quest to change for the better, there all things are possible, all feelings true and manifesting dreams built not on sacrifice and suffering but on surrender and gratitude, for no god requires the end of love to begin this work, but only the acceptance of the love that is already there, one small gift that never stops giving, your life and everyone sharing their heart, not to create the world but to accept the one that is already perfect.

Stretching

stretching, the muscles pull and resist, let go and contract, each a part of the whole, every motion a new discovery of the body, the system, its unwillingness yet eager to let go.  there is no pain like the sensation of age, the accretion of time upon the physical membranes. I am not this ancient machine, yet it is all I have to do my work here. in pure consciousness, all is perfect all is complete even as the unfolding is going on. I see the separation and the connectedness all the fusion of being and the awareness of billions of beings embodied in the capsules of time and space. every thought a dimension of existence that seeks a radiance, opens a door small or large into an unknowable truth, that which precedes every action and follows every completion, there is the emptiness the unexperienced soul, before birth, after death it is as it even now is, potential unrealized, formless in the midst of being created, the one source that never submits to desire or need, untouched by all that happens, great or small, there is nothing that reveals or exposes the truth of what is beyond this conscious life, beyond even the supreme existence and divine light. there is the end of all that exists, it awaits everything, and from that end a new beginning is created eternally, the souls formed of a substance that experiences all and is touched by nothing, the awakened being, learning the path of existence, without judgment without excitement, without attachment, allowing all to come, not wavering in the brightest light or the blackest emptiness, beyond all time, infinite in capacity and alone eternally, one loves the souls journey in every eye and gesture and sound, the life that is lived as the children of the self, unashamed to come forward and touch in wonder the life of love and grace that evolves in this physical plane.

the tender mercies

the tender mercies of endless love, like a river flowing, envelope the heart and soul with tears pouring from heaven for the sufferings of the embodied spirits, forgetful of their penance and following the wayward directions of their thoughts, leading further and further from the source of truth. one by one in the procession of foolish distractions, each body delights and is driven deeper into the drama and taken away from the dharma, postponing the sadhana for the meager crumbs of their physical lives. the list of desire is endless in its need and vital awareness, what next will satisfy what prevents the singular and short lived joy of satisfaction without release from all bondage. each day a sun shows the way and the darkness shuts out the light, though moons revolve and shimmer inside billions of reminders of the emptiness that exists everywhere. alone yet crowded on every side, pushed and pushing back the mass of individuals erases their memories and creates new ones to suit their fancies. no hope only fear the reward for all the giving and taking and losing and gaining that every heart endures. this life this patterned suffering of existence that is a mystery to most everyone and a madness that has no end for there is no way to control the path from opening the eyes to the final breath taken, yet the struggle ensures nothing but more struggle. there is a joy beyond this, a light that has no sun and knows no darkness within. the truth of being  that life alone can know, can find and never lose. this is the home of the eternal soul and the source of all that is. the transition from eternal being to the embodied singularity of the flesh leaves no trace except in the stillness and silence of the heart letting go, releasing the inbred desires and vital necessities and laying all at the feet of the divine self within. once you know you would give up anything to know your divine being, then all is simple, if your devoted to the divine, there is only clinging to that truth. all else is the illusion of separation, right down to the air and the flesh meeting and losing sense of which is which. the world breathes you as you become the atmosphere of existence