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.

one conductor

this little vessel made of sand and stone – this shape that reforms itself anew at each moment – is but a moving pictogram, struck, as they all are, by the light of the origin. cascading waves of desert grain create, in the blink of the eye, a remnant of perception; a bare shift of energy within the creator’s reality. what remains after the glimpse of eternal being is that same sandstone: ever refining, ever deepening, ever opening – a dance of mind and body coagulating into the varying forms of Life’s celebration.

the wry musculature of this formed body asks for release…and simultaneously yearns to be rebuilt, a construction project built on the grounds of peace. It is a failing attempt to contain the multitudes of feeling within – failing because any container will soon overflow where Love is concerned. 

In this little corner of the infinite, I – although which I, I don’t know – learn somehow to play this instrument with a little more precision and a little more grace, to tune in to the harmonic symphony of the absolute where we all all played by the same Conductor. The conductor is fully in charge, and in fact he too is the only one musician with a million faces and a million bows. We could say he works through our bodies and minds as we learn to live in greater harmony with what is here, and all we can do is to truly disappear – to become transparent to him – to rest as our self and allow his work to be done.

Past Those Palace Walls

even in those times when we have no choice
but to offer our humble lot to the Above,
when we are undone by life’s firm grasp in
that way she shakes us free from what we are not –
could it be that this too is perfect?

there and wins and then there are losses
our lives tend to flow between the two
but some become so distracted by winning
never seeing in fact, past those palace walls,
that true Freedom only comes from loss –

the loss of everything you took to be you.

this is not a somber loss, it’s only the mind that thinks it must be so –
firmly attached as it is to the belief to be separate from the hand that holds:
it is a loss and yet the deepest gain – a gain of nothing, really, but what a nothingness,
the nothingness of divine peace and an opening to Love within.

it comes when we put down the heavy load we’ve been carrying
when we finally surrender our love to nothing but the truth –
all these judgments and resentments and projections and frustrations
must be thrown into the sacrificial fire and burnt to ash
we’ve only held onto them because we are afraid to stop complaining!

life does not punish but rather she is forced to give us tough love
she’s not sentimental – why would she care about those precious feelings –
she wants us to release ourselves into and as the wide open and nothing less,
to stop pretending to do everything ourselves in the face of all she does for us…

so, let’s not worship at the foot of Frustration,
pretending like we are justified in a revolt against Life –
it is simply arrogance to believe that life has wronged us,
when she gives us every opportunity to drop the pretence and Be.

at some point we must recognize that our prayers are answered
at any moment we stop fighting, and let Life pierce our heart open to love;
it’s not about having a bowed head, it’s about saying ‘Yes!’
and getting out of Her way for once.

we have to recognize that suffering comes when we fight against the universe
it is the reminder that we have shelled ourselves away from Her.
peace and love is our nature, begging for us to let them in –
and if you fight the universe – who do you think will win?

image source: Catf

morning coffee

this my ritual of defrosting the body, absorbing bittersweet warmth into its cool carapace. slowly, slowly, the felt sense that I am apart from the rest resolves itself into the dew of unity’s palate. some days, bubbles of joy break through the froth almost immediately, and there is a waking dance under the lip of my mug. others, quieter days, I am reminded of how the body longs eternal for its release into the open vista, and there is a gentle surrender – a dipping ever downwards into the mystic night of the endless merge – slipping deeper into the thick silvery black of the molten brew.

The Town is Empty, but the Guesthouse is Full

room and board has already been paid
the town is empty but the guesthouse is full
we stay up all night sometimes
dancing to the beat
of the infinite drummer
we don’t worship
we don’t get stuck in dead words
there’s not a lot of room here to get maudlin
and any shame is left on the road by the overpass

to avoid overcrowding, we’ve set up a lottery
but there’s only one name on the ballot
no way to get around that

my friend,

you’re in.

Birdfeed

The world within often draws me towards itself – to leave the cares of moving life behind and to rejoin the eternal. There, I find a jewel that I cannot give away. I might well share it if I could. I would make of it an offering, but it’s stuck in my lungs and hands and all the rest. All I can do is Be it. In the moment, it’s just this sweet sense of Being, and these words, a gesture of gratitude with my attempt at a little stamp of light.

Maybe I’ll spend the morning with the geese that hang out near here, fearless creatures they are. They stroll along busy streets causing a mess and don’t care much about the drivers who gets chuffed along the way. Sometimes I think: I am but a bird singing my song for the simple joy of singing it, not (necessarily) to attract a mate, however, just because it’s my thing. That’s a nice image, but today, I think I’d like to be a goose walking in front of traffic, for the simple joy of charting my own course, not (necessarily) to stump anyone or cause a rift, but just because I’m alive. Let’s not get too romantic about it.

There is more here than just the endless inner world, or at least, I’ll give myself, as bird-feed, the illusion that there is, and touch hands to face under the breaking light of day.