nobody seeing

the problem with concepts is that, if misdirected, they can seemingly justify the belief in a limited knower. who is the “I” who knows anything? consciousness – not a mind. but the mind, subtly, seems to be able to appropriate the understanding to a belief in being an awakened, limited being.

perhaps the true place of concept and thoughts (beyond practicality) is to point to the truth. but once that’s done – once the belief in separation has been un-checked – there’s not really any need for spiritual concept.

we can ‘ride’ a concept to the experience of Being – in a moment of availability, the old belief system drops, and there is a glimpse beyond the mind – a glimpse of consciousness. but when the body points to awareness – points in its transparency towards the infinite – we experience ourselves again without the use of concept – and the sensation is felt as the emotion of the moment.

to feel the surrounding objects as an extension is to release the body from habitual contraction – but sensation continues. the body points towards consciousness – is a vehicle to that experience – but still, sensation continues. in the present sensation there is a whole world beyond concept.

how do you describe a sensation? failure is inevitable, although you can be poetic and try – fail more or less beautifully.

naturally, the body seems to become the guide through life – although ultimately the guide is consciousness, is life itself – the body in its wisdom seems to function organically, no need to superimpose an agenda.

it is seen in the sensation that I am the nobody my mind cannot see.

Under the Cool Moon

there is a collapse
of walls held round the heart
and then the reflected light of the body
graces itself to love again:

a slow walk under the cool moon.

it’s not a big moment
it’s not a big event
it’s not an enlightenment
god, to only let go of that word,
we’ve all done our work!
let’s remember what we share

it’s a slow, gentle, patient falling away:
snow drifting onto parched earth
and melting in, deep, through
muscular tissues and fascia
into the cells and marrows
of memories laid down
time before time.

there’s also a sharpening to this,
a grinding away of ignorance’s block
it doesn’t all feel like snowflakes –
but this part comes with that satisfying feeling of
pulling apart pieces of old dead flesh
making way for the light to cascade through

light that is living
that’s beyond care
light just for light

it’s animal and beatific
it’s pure and it’s rude
it’s a divine melting
and a burning crash

This isn’t really for angels.
I mean, I don’t know any.
Do you?

life is red and black and blue and white
and everything else for that matter
it’s a symphony
it’s all transparent

it is