Tuesday, January 30, 2018

Are you in the music or is the music in you?


Are you in the music or is the music in you? This pulsating rhythm of life, your footfalls dancing, your breath, your very lips kissing the words that kiss you, that sing this marvelous song of this and that, you and me, here and there, this and that, into this heart beat of existence. Does the song sing you or do you sing the song? 

A shimmering flowing carpet of light and shadow reveals an uninterrupted seamless symphony of touch taste sight sound sensation thought and emotion. This obvious vibrant aliveness, this bejeweled wonderland flows through you in you as you. No lines can be found between water and wetness, between your lips and the kiss, between your tears and your shining beautiful eyes, between you and what's looking, between you and the kaleidoscopic sound and light show. The feeling of solidity between inside and outside comes from the belief in words, every one seems to split up infinite spaciousness. Yet you cannot choose to not believe, as you are the belief in separation. You cannot untie the imaginary lines but it can happen that they are no longer believed, and known and felt to be imaginary. That's all enlightenment really is. 

You are like the beautiful swirling iridescence on the surface of a soap bubble, the space inside is the same as on the outside. Simply a prismatic interface between the unknown and the worded world. We exist only as this swirling thought dream, this water color passion play of time and dimension and measurement. But where is the beginning and end to a thought or feeling or moment? You arise as the symphony of all these and are not separate from this wondrous music, there are no separate moments, are there? 

Where is your last breath, was there one outside of love's storybook of someone sailing out to sea? Where is your next breath, is there one? Where does the light come from in your dreams? Gazing out gazing in, where is time, where are the colors you sing? Where is the rainbow that pierced the stormy evening and your heart many moons ago? Where is all that love you were afraid to lose?
You are like flowing water in a mirage, transparent mirrored sun light dancing reflection, spinning twisting twirling whirl pooling rushing roaring silently singing multifaceted shimmering empty jewelry coming from nowhere going to nowhere timelessly pouring sun into sun. 

How the ripples catch sunlight and darkness waving mountains and sky and your beautiful reflection into a breathtaking fluid fabric without beginning or end. A timeless tale unfolds of time, and joy and sorrow and deep kisses and laughter. No inside or out, these unfathomable songs reaching out reaching in finding no middle or edge. Never touched always touching, kissed from without kissed from within. Songs from nowhere songs from everywhere, simply this poem of unbearable marvel, this magic of life dancing a daydream without cause or direction or any place to rest. 

This sublime and bittersweet alone-ness, knowing you can only touch your own heart has ravished you and left you dancing alone, in love as love through love. The longing to kiss knowing there are no others paints my silhouette in sky with sky. Under the blue there is not even nakedness. No one to be free or bound, no strings ever held up the clouds, there is nothing to be untied. 

All that effort to repair the scaffolding you thought prevented the sky from crushing you falls away when you realize you have never been separate from vast endless sky. How it hurt so to try to remember to sign your name on every tear.

Love opened a skylight to madness, but you fell back through into an empty house, stripped of everything, of nothing, even your nakedness, even love. Yet love trembles and hums in these transparent walls and reveals your tender humanness unadorned with hope and fear and need of next. 

Resplendent ease bathes the dream in an all encompassing exploding sun lit kiss. An ecstatic love dance a constant union of what was never apart, light kissing light, space kissing space, life kissing itself through your beautiful beautiful lips. Suspended as not even nothing as wide open awe and living and loving as the dream of you of me of we. 
Calliope sings of a better place, but there is no past or future or someplace in between. It's only the moon-glow on a shimmering lake that reveals the watercolor of your face. For what would you be without forgotten dreams of what may come or what has been? Flowing thought paints these rich and wondrous hues of love's tale written on a timeline between birth and death. 

It's always only utterly intimate as there are no others to kiss. You may howl at that moon of your great alone-ness, and I will hear your bittersweet song. But it is always my song echoing across the vastness. The inside of a side-less kiss. This is the very deepest intimacy and as vast as limitless space. Between meaning and non meaning there is nothing to grasp and no empty hand. Beautiful source-less reverberating echoes rippling sky into sky. A soundless sound trembles and explodes in your heart and reveals that this was never your heart or your life. Always obvious this beautiful aliveness soaring pouring through you in you as you. 

Are the trees reaching up to kiss the sun, or is the sun reaching down to caress the trees? Is the wind dancing in the tree tops or do the trees sway and leaves shimmer in the wind? It is only words that make that distinction, you know they are not separate, and that you are not separate from the perception of this dance. Without the lasso of words which have never captured the wind, there are no separate things like wind and trees and your lovers gentle caress. Nor a cheek nor lips to kiss nor a you underneath that mask of fear of unknowing. 

You are like the memory of a footprint in sky, a wisp of a cloud that seems to form a hand reaching out to grasp the sun, dissolving. Sun kissed shadows ripple and flow and you cannot touch this magic of life as you are not separate from it. Is life in you or are you in life? Such obvious vibrant aliveness inside and out, all lines are imaginary, aren't they? In and out, here and there and of and through, all dream directions going nowhere going everywhere, you are a phantom in a magicians tale, a swirling thought dream vanishing just as it seems to appear. 

Most story book characters seem to be on the roller coaster of hope and fear of a never arriving next, and that's not better or worse as there is no chooser of thought or feeling. I have not won a prize of constant bliss, I'm just not here. Yet I seem to appear as shimmering reflections in your beautiful eyes. I will meet you knowing there is no you nor me except in this dream world of love and magic. You appear to me as unutterably beautiful just as you think you are. There is no special or right or wrong way to appear, no special way to be. Simply this, this unbearable beauty of life appearing all by itself, looking and feeling like anything at all. 

And what can be said of all of the above? Just a bunch of zip zap nonsense words painting dream clouds in the sky. There are no things nor non things to be true or false. Simply all and everything and nothing at all self arising and simultaneously self releasing without meaning or non meaning. This is far too simple to grasp. Trying to grasp this creates an empty hand.


There never were any shards of blue, always only this sky like vastness. Knowing we are made up is like a Surreal dream and yet more vibrant and intense than could ever be articulated. Rich and lush beyond measure. Beyond joy or sorrow.
Silence sings through a day dream of un-paralled wonder. How amazing that under your adornment of star light there is not even nakedness. 
Self remains knowing it never existed. Mangoes remain knowing there are no things until named. Love remains knowing that there are no two to love. Knowing that there is no one who holds beliefs and opinions doesn't end them. 
I exist as beliefs and opinions knowing I am made up. I love myself and I still love mangoes and I still love love.

Beyond beyond.   More empty than pure unbound nothingness.  This ravishingly beautiful emptiness extends everywhere and nowhere simultaneously without movement or non movement, without direction or non direction.  Containing no things or non things yet including all and everything and nothing at all.

Love a glue that spins around an imaginary center and unleashes the fluid canvas of vast endless sky falling through sky as water color dream bows arch their backs into the sun.

Gaping cracks in the sea wall of fear burst into beautiful bloom as the dam of unknowing reared its terrifying head and ate all your sea dreams in an un-tethered ocean that time forgot. You had cast your ripples of loveliness across sun bathed echoes searching for an answer to the questions you can no longer remember. 

Quite unexpectedly as if by magic, a nameless sound ripped open your heart, silently exploding and imploding into infinite intimate vast spaciousness. Winds rushed across the empty fields and ripples of forgotten dreams slid into echoes of a name no one wears. There is no song not born of empty wings of desire plunging its tailspin into ricochets of wonder. Empty parentheses radiate spirals of overlapping underlapping waves of joy and sorrow tapping on a sunlit window, reaching through and kissing your beautiful face.

Waves silently weeping and laughing hang suspended as they crash into and through themselves, a tympani of awe roars through your speechless heart and sings of the lack of tomorrow's daydream as you soar into the folds of night.

Words soar and scatter through these empty pages weaving a passion play of gusts and shadows through pillared halls of moonbeams dancing in a wind ballet. Oceans of light pour through waves of prism'd jewels of light shimmering into and through this dance. 

Cleansed by tears the painted day washes off revealing a stark emptiness as you realize you had been caressing a future that has never arrived. It is your own love that rips you apart from the inside and out until a sideless glance reveals the seamless ease of life doing itself. How beautifully life swishes through your toes and writes your name in puddles of wonderment. The edges of your footprints collapse as the roots were imaginary that held you in sky's grasp. You fall until you are the falling falling through itself, and an essence of sweetness subsumes the wakeless wake of dreams. Wetness, the liquidity of home, embraces your nakedness. 

And where was the song of the meadow lark that you heard yesterday eve echoing in the distant canyon? Where was her path on the evening breeze? Where did your love go when you were not? 
The dream was ripped wide open. An empty swing softy moved in the evening breeze, and nakedness ran through the open fields.



I reach out my hand to touch the blue and it is sky and space and my hand in an edgeless brilliant transparent bejeweled light stream singing swirling pouring through me as me. 
This ecstatic love dance of one of two of many of none. Such a tender delicate fragrance of this, that has no words yet includes all words, twists and twines into a lush rich dreamscape, ever spiraling, ever expanding, ever collapsing, ever arising, ever dying. A magnificent shooting star consumed by its own love dissolves into itself. 
The warmth of a thousand suns in the kiss of midnight.


I see you feel this magic, I recognize it in the beauty of your shining eyes. For what is the wetness of tears, no one can say. What is this warmth of love or pain of sorrow or the splendid incomprehensibility of wonder itself? 

Unspeakably marvelous that you cannot touch life yet everywhere you point inside or out, anguish or awe, you are not separate from it, or the pointing. 

Sunrise bathes your tender face as last night's kisses run down your heart into this sea of dreams where you dance. No safe harbor to arrive at and hide. You soar as wetness in water, where sky has collapsed into sea and sea into sky, awash, adrift with no rudder or sail or direction or path to an imaginary future, or a wake or trace of an imaginary past. There is no center or edge yet you remain as this centerless jewel, the dream spinning around you creating infinite facets that all reflect your beautiful face. 

There is no path to where you have never left, there is no key to unlock a door that never was. It was only your footsteps that formed themselves that seemed to create direction and purpose, and imprints of time upon your multicolored shadow as you danced in starlight, showering the spark of love's beauty back into the skies. 


Blue sky spills across the canyon, pools as silent slumber in shadows deep embrace. Soft lights gaze as wordless wonder sings a shimmering ripple casting dreams into an edgeless sea.  Splashing rainbows caress your tenderness as wind paints an empty heart to hold your beautiful tears.   Infinite prisms skip colors across your doorstep awaiting your magical adornment of this sea of love.

You have never left this magic that we share in our aloneness, together.  It calls you beckons you, 'hello goodbye hello'.  You cannot hide forever from this magic that you are, as even hiding from it or trying to grasp it reflects love's beauty in your eyes.  You have never left home as you are emptiness overflowing in every direction without direction.  You have never been nor will ever be, yet here you are, such unspeakable beauty, wrapped in your own infinite intimate embrace...

What is that ache inside your chest?
What is that sound that keeps you awake at night?
It is the roar of the universe ripping your heart open and wings of love taking flight.

Unraveled from the fetal position your toes stretch into the light ....
Naked and unafraid awash in moon glow... 


(From my second book, ‘Your Infinite Intimate Embrace” 






Monday, January 29, 2018

Seamless Kiss of Joy

Y

Pools of echoes shimmer on the silent shore as the tide recedes.
Shadows gather in the moonlight to swim with their own reflection.

You thought you heard your name called, but it was only the wind singing, ‘There is no next’.
you are the wind erasing yourself 
clouds form and dissolve 
you are a story dancing 
empty thought dreams 
swirling sands
Time, a wind ballet for no one 



A thousand shades of sorrow 
Slide through colors of joy 
Dancing on the edge of midnight within without 
this empty breath 
weight of darkness sings 

Waves falling 
cricket-song
Soft breath of the sleeping day 
sways to the rhythm of night

Nestled in your shadow 
Under autumn leaves 
Winter moon 
Spies your longing 
Unties the ropes of fear 

Caverns of echoes 
Pour through the ceiling 
Coloring your footsteps 
Eroding time 

No one leads 
No one follows 
No one is lost 
No one is found 
This empty breath of no tomorrow 
Sings 

Ashes of petals 
Burnt as they bloom 
One breath 
Stardust 




She wove the horizon in her hair 
weeping at the wetness of the sea 
falling into sky 


Deeper than the bottomless canyon where you lost the sky
Deeper than the fathomless un-named seas where your heart dissolved 
On the infinite path to nowhere 
you lost your shadow 
this unspeakable luminescence burned even someone to have a shadow 
Without direction or compass or place to rest 
no one weeps 

More fragile than a hummingbirds heart 
This love that weeps for everyone



Winged garden lies wrapped in 
Braided shadows 
ropes of twilight 
Suspend the day from its slumber 

What lies awake, hidden under your sleeping shadow? 


day dream night dream 
drifting clouds sliding into and through each other 
Form and dissolve simultaneously 
No where to go or stay 
No time to leave 
Or arrive 

sorrow slides through the night 
Recognizes its beauty 
Through your light 



No one wandered to the edge of the abyss
No one fell
No one returned 

She picked up a shell on the shore of the edgeless sea and heard the ancient cry of man’s aloneness. 

Love wept and saw her reflection behind the waterfall of time.  She danced in the cave of shadows.  She found her song on the edge of moonlight, with the waves and the wind and the tides. 



Words cannot fill this empty cup
This wall-less room 
These footprints that crumble 
This broken hourglass 
This paper heart unfolds
Sails into its reflection 
Words slide off the mirror as you fall through 

night weeps silently 
words dance through the window 
and paint your empty face with tears 



Tsunami of love unraveled your story 
Loosed the feathers of time 
Soaring wingless 
Sky in sky 
In-folding out-folding 
Light in light 
There was no one holding your trembling heart 
This delicate beauty of flight 

You are this flowing tone poem rippling through itself in infinite shades of wonder, through this seamless kiss of joy.  




Down through the tree canopy 
One leaf drifts and tumbles 
Ripping ribbons of sunset 
wake-less trails that lost the horizon

Love’s broken mirrors weave themselves into my dreamscape of jewels 
ever flowing 
ever weeping 
this intimacy of words that sing of wordlessness



Empty tide 
Shower of moon 
Frozen landscape 
Bleeds 

He sewed her shoes into the dream 
But they held no shadow 
Nor light.
Like forgotten kisses 
She was never there.
Ocean reflects the sandcastles 
Tumbling into its shimmering. 
Endless sky feasts on its reflection 
In your beautiful beautiful eyes.

Though you live 
Your death is already part of me. 


The river called my name and I saw myself painted in watercolor tears flowing through me in me as me.

Reflections of reflections see themselves, echoes of echoes hear themselves in this call and answer love song that paints my empty face with sky in sky 

I am the flowing waters and it’s reflection in your eyes.  I cannot find myself without you.   

Love and beauty see themselves through our beautiful beautiful eyes.

Although living,
Death is a most beautiful part of me. 

This utter heartbreakingly sublime brief window through which life feels its own aliveness.  I am the sad and beautiful preciousness of the taste of taste.  I am the eyes through which love and beauty enter the universe.  


water echoes your name 
In light in dark 
ripples leave no imprint 
burnt as soon as your song begins 
drowned in your own reflection 



How marvelous that the brain can create castles out of thought and an imaginary person who lives there and wants to escape. 

But love is also made up and does not exist outside of the dream 
There is no outside.


It’s not that everything arises from nothing or nothing from everything. Nothing and everything arise simultaneously in the thought stream.   
Not one without, or the source of another.
There is not even nothing under or behind or outside or prior to thought, as behind, under, outside and prior are thought created.  
Unspeakably marvelous this thought dream that we are.


You want me to be nice.  I am surrounded by seekers.  I watch as so called teachers like Adya tell them to give up their story.  I watch as people like Tolle tell them to be in the now. I see quite clearly how this perpetuates the painful illusion of separation and I feel their pain.  And you know what? I never say a thing.

But here on Facebook I do.  If you want nice and safe you better block me and leave rainbows.  I am a sage and I have no song without seekers.  Enlightenment is Not about feeling safe or being nice. 

I don’t see anyone including myself as being the instigators of thought feeling belief or action. I don’t see any of this as being wrong or right.  I am simply attempting to describe what this is like 
Knowing I cannot.





Friday, January 26, 2018

My Story

My Story

I could never figure out why there was only one green in my crayon box and where blue green turned into green blue.  I learned early not to ask who in the hell chose which was which, and I used to wonder since my right eye saw color differently than the other, one saw a yellowy green the other a blue green if others saw color perhaps entirely different from me.  Perhaps what I called yellow they called red. I began to feel that great aloneness, and I would hold onto the grass for fear that I would spin into space.

I remember clearly hating it and trying to avoid being forced into boxes of this and that like, "whats your favorite color?", "are you an introvert or an extrovert?".  It felt like a straitjacket.  Later, however, I remember looking at people and trying to figure out what type of person I wanted to be, as I wanted love and it seemed only formed people were loved.  How could I make myself loveable?  I knew I didn’t want to be like my Mom or Dad or anyone else I met as they didn’t seem happy.  I didn’t want to be a man or woman, I didn’t feel like either.

It wasn't until I was eight that the pain of separation hit me like an avalanche and squashed all the light out of my world. I spoke about it with my parents and they laughed and told me that little kids don't get depressed.  A few weeks later my mother came into my room one evening and said that it'd get better when I went to college...(wha?)
Soon all the other little girls were talking about how many kids they wanted, girls or boys and their names.  I knew without a doubt that if I had a child it would most likely feel this pain of life as I called it, and I knew I would never have children.  I don't even remember a lot of my teenage years.  Wrapped up in a fog of depression and layers of fat.
In my early 20's I took acid and the light of the world started to shine in.  I remembered the laughing child I had once been.  So I decided to be happy come hell or high water, shoving all the sadness under the carpet.  It was a life of painful pretense.  Self is pretense, the belief that what is going on can be known and the terror of not knowing.

To try to fill that hole in my heart, I over ate, exercised, took drugs, drank alcohol, traveled, read psychology, philosophy, I looked for it in romantic love, read books and daydreamed to try to avoid it.  Pretending that I was happy was a constant. Fear was the constant.  Fear of myself and others.  Fear of admitting that I didn't know.  Fear of loving too much, and losing love.
Pretty much every perception was judged as helpful or harmful.  Every moment I judged what was I feeling.  If I liked it, how could I keep it or get it again?  If I didn't like it, how could I change it or get rid of it?  It was exhausting and painful.
I had an intellectual understanding that there was no free will decades ago.  We went to a Hare Krishna joint for a free meal as we had heard they were not too pushy.  Well, I was obviously entranced with the girls beautiful butterfly winged saris and it must have showed, so one of them came over and began to try to sell me her thang, I kept just trying to run her in circles to continue eating.
When it came to free will I said I didn't believe in it.  I said ya know you can never go back and see if ya coulda done something different.  That ended the conversation.  However actually I did believe in choice and someone to have it, as well as separate things to choose from.  
Beliefs are like that.
We are convinced that ours are right.  We will fight for them. As we ARE them.  As all beliefs are accompanied by hope and fear, hope that it's true and fear that it's not, or hope that it's false and fear that it's true.  (Like the guy who says he doesn't believe in horse shoes for luck asking where and in which direction to hang it).
It's truly obvious that there is no next, and many agree with me, but they believe there is.  They hope and wish fervently that there is a next, because that belief is what they are.

I remember the first time when it occurred to me that cause and effect was a belief.  I could say well what was the cause of this tea cup breaking
The falling
The newspaper I was reaching for
Or the day I bought that dam table!

I had read that a hiccup was the same as a lightening bolt, and intellectually understood that all things were interrelated or interconnected, and I longed to grok that.  I  longed to recognize the sameness of inside and outside.
I read many books that last couple of years, and found watching breath meditation.  I did it almost all day and I was pretty high! Contriving this feeling of ease. In the end I was trying to get rid of thoughts. Even the music and pictures like vivid day dreams that filled in when thoughts were absent.

I used to meditate, "My blood flows the wind blows". Trying to truly get that inside and outside were the same, but to no avail.  I was waiting for a bolt of lightening, and it happened as soon it was apparent, like a bonk on the head, that nothing I had ever done nor not done had ever brought me what I so longed for, even though I had no idea what it was!    
When it dawned on me that I could no longer pretend that everything was OK, and that all the methods and practices I had used to achieve well being were not working, I was utterly stunned for a month. My practice was to recognize awareness for short moments but by the end of the month it was obvious that awareness was always on, although I still thought of it as a thing.
Then there were four days of unutterable joy and awe.  It was a beautiful powerful free glimpse of the utter perfection of things, yet it was not a seeing of no-thing-ness.  That shift in perspective would come in less than a year, and it was permanent.

One method I was supposedly using was to let thought and feeling happen without trying to change or get rid of them, but I have to say that I never ever felt like I was doing this, it felt like this was happening to me, there was no choice but to feel it all fully.  As the entire structure of the beliefs of who I was was crashing I never tried to fight it even through the most excruciating pain, as it somehow felt just right.  The first big belief fell.  I had used a particular diet in order to rid myself of a disease and I had always wondered if it was the diet or the belief in the diet that had cured me. Suddenly an intense fear gripped me.  I felt it physically and psychologically.  If this belief left would I die?  I lay on the couch powerless to even try to escape it, and just as suddenly the fear and belief fell away.  I suppose it was the beginning of the end of belief in belief as well.  It was like an avalanche of what I had feared ripping through me.

After that there were six months of extreme sadness and intense despair alternating with unspeakable joy, peppered with sudden bouts of impending doom.  I noticed beliefs about who I was and what the world was like catch fire and burn and  become transparent and fall away.  I felt lighter and lighter, and noticed that memories and thoughts of future and even what was seemingly going on was losing its grip.  Quite suddenly after six months I noticed that joy and sorrow had merged and I truly could not tell the difference!

I remember as so many beliefs popped, it was scary at first but also enjoyable as many of the beliefs that were leaving were the beliefs I didn't like about myself or the world, that I was unlovable etc., or that others were.  But I remember it suddenly hit me oh my all these things that I believe in that I like will also have to go, that I am lovable, or that there is something called love!

After that there was a period of intense anxiety, I would lay on my bed of nails every night, sleepless, gripped with unknown terror.  There was a point when I realized that I had thought of myself on a path, and that I was ‘getting’ somewhere, and I just knew that that belief had to go.   I remember sobbing hot hot tears.  That too was absorbed somehow, it was obvious that phenomena were uncaused.

In my tradition the 'goal' so to speak was called 'going continuous'.  I had no idea what that was but I wanted it.  I was trapped in that most magnificent conundrum of everyone saying there was nothing to get yet that you would know when that happened.
At one point my desire consumed me.  My chest hurt and I could hardly breathe, it was worse than when my mom had died, and I kept trying to talk myself out of my desire.  It finally burst and morphed into a marvelous overwhelming love as I saw there was nothing to get.  I realized many years later that this was a mourning of my own death.

I had the very clear picture of myself before the shift of trying to grasp something that had no edges that was very slippery and there were no indentations there was nothing I could get my fingers into to hold.  The other vision that kept happening was I was in the backyard with a butterfly net jumping very very high and trying to catch the air I didn't know what I wanted but I knew that I wanted it and I was beginning to realize that I could not have it.
I started to recognize every face as mine, not in form or substance but an undeniable recognition. That has never left.
Two weeks later I was cleaning a stove and suddenly the rag became my hand became the space became the stove, as all lines between things between moments and between myself and the world dissolved. There were no separate things divided by space!  It was like the scales had fallen off my eyes!  I was astounded that life happened without a me doing it!  There was a palpable incredible bodily and psychological relaxation that accompanied this shift in perspective.  I felt that I might pee my pants or my body would crumple to the floor, yet my body continued to do what it was doing without effort.  All ideas of effort or achievement were gone. It was obvious that there was no one doing life, and that life wasn't happening to a me. It was the end of a lifetime propelled by hope and fear and need of a never arising next. It was as if time died. It was as if I had died, yet it was obvious that I had never existed.  

I wondered if this was a 'special' state I had read about, yet could not believe that one could put the blinders of separation on again.   After three weeks I marked the date.  It was easy to find as we cleaned that house every other Friday.  There was no fear associated with this new way of seeing, I knew without a doubt that this was what the famous sages had been singing about.  I really never looked for confirmation or avidly sought others who knew this.  Who could I tell?  I also knew without a doubt that most others I had read had no clue about this no-thing-ness.  I called it 'falling into indivisibility'.

Yet, somehow there was a belief that this had happened to a me.  So the next two years were smoother.  Just watching as more beliefs of who I was untied themselves. Through out these years I watched many beliefs fall away, either as they popped, or after, I'd think, Oh my I don't believe that anymore and never really did!
I sang about this incredible stunning no thingness on facebook for over a year and a half and finally I met another who echoed my heart song, not just speaking of no self.  It was such a relief!  We sang together on a forum until it folded.
It seemed that the 'gauge' during these two years was self consciousness, self judgment and self correction and doubt becoming less and less, until there was nothing left.  Not even nothing.  I never knew there would be nothing!

Suspended as nothing I felt I could steer the car into the oncoming traffic and it wouldn't make any difference.  I couldn't say it was OK or not OK.  I had no group or no one to share this with.  I can't even say when it happened as it was such a gradual falling.  I did remember that friend saying once that it takes years to get used to this.
About a month later, one day I was speaking with this friend about how it requires imaginary separation to recognize unicity and  I said, "oh I will dance with you anytime".  He said, "We have been dancing for quite awhile".  Suddenly it hit me. The enormity of what had happened. and that he had been there those last few months.  Love had been there. Not a psyco-sexual love, but a true Sage is a beautiful clear reflection of your own love and emptiness.
For some the fullness trickles in, but here it was all of a sudden.
It was like he gave me back myself.  It was love that brought me back.  That's when the weeping began.  For no reason.  For every reason.  I was back.  But I was dead.   Both.   A story knowing I was a story.  Like being a character in a movie yet knowing you are made up.  Like a hologram, a dream, a magicians tale.  Dreamlike yet somehow more alive and vibrant, wondrous beyond measure.

This is an entirely different way to experience what is going on, free from the terror and pain of looking though the window of imagined personal volition. Somehow the window looses the painting of what you have imagined life to be like and ideas about what it should be like. All ideas of truth and meaning and non-meaning fall away.
The imaginary clouds clear themselves and there is no more longing for an idea, no more longing for that which is not. It's more like a longing for what is and there is utter ease.  There are no more what if's or what's next.  It's like time dies.
No longer does it feel like there is a me doing life or that life is happening to a me.  There is an untouchable profound peace underlying all and everything a seamless ease that has embraced the mind and always an unutterable sense of awe.
Self remains but it has lost its relevance.
Life is passionate full on yet impersonal at the same time.

Whilst not singing here with you, I slide into the vastness. Suspended as nothingness. Just a constant wow. But camping with friends and family I felt like transparent light sliding into and through the dream. I Appear and disappear into my own beautiful reflection through their eyes. An ecstatic love dance of one of two of many of one... as love, lover and beloved, a constant union a swooning into the swoon of what was never apart.
It's like before I was wind dancer and now it's like light dancer.
Not even nakedness, not even a wisp of a song clothes what has no weight.
Yet my feets still know how to dance, there are simply no footprints.

Tuesday, January 23, 2018

Ocean Whispers, ‘There Is No Time’

Roots reaching 
Fingers reaching 
Branches reaching 
Hands reaching 
Songs reaching 
Hearts reaching 
Rivers reaching 
Life reaching to touch itself through you.


Morning burns itself in this fire that consumes itself in this imaginary space between what never happened and what will never be.  

Painted with disappearing ink, you story dissolves as it is brushed onto the river we all know but cannot catch.   
We are this edgeless flow of echoes 

How beautiful the cloud reflections
dancing on water, merging falling into and through each other.  Without lines they were never separate.  Where is the solidity you long for?  Perhaps it is an impossible dream to find something behind your shadow.  
Where is the line between the mirror and your reflection? 

Where is the joy the magic you tasted and long for?   Perhaps it is in the looking for it that creates the illusion that there is a thing called magic surrounded by a thing called not magic, and a solid stable thing called a you looking, and an uncrossable imaginary distance between them.  

How magical that you seem to appear in this thought dream.  How magical that it can appear that there is a thing called magic.  How magical that this dream of separation allows awareness to be aware of being aware. Where is the line between awareness and the symphony of perception?  

What are you looking for... the magic you seek is you.


First crow 
First light 
Baby crying in the distance
across the cliffs  
Echoes of echoes of echoes 

Soft breath of my husband 
Mists of morning tea dance with their shadow on the window 
Backlit by dawn

Afterimages of love’s memories 
Write the day 
Sing my silhouette with sky 



It may dawn suddenly or over time that the primordial song you have longed to remember need not be and cannot be remembered or forgotten.  All trying to remember the words seemed to obscure it as it has no words, yet includes all words.


Day fades into your beautiful sunset 
Colors bleeding 
Sea and sky echo this last kiss 

Voices of thought, bits of song, tendrils of memory untie themselves in the wind.   A crow dives and dances and lands in the tops of the swaying palms.  Ocean whispers, ‘there is no time’, and you remember, as you are carried into this sensuousness of lostness.   Of the fullness of sky.  And the death of grasping.  
Only memory painted your reaching hands, your trembling heart that ached for tomorrow and wept at the never forever beauty of time.  

Dissolved yet dancing 
Longing of wind 
Sings your name 


Love wrote her name in the sea-foam clouds and she watched them dissolve in the whirlpools and eddies of sky and the fathomless suck of tides.  
“Why me?”  “Why love?”  
All questions fell through the deep abyss that closed when joy and sorrow merged and smiled.  

She kissed the wind to find direction and felt the sea fall all around her.  There was no purchase on the starlit path.  She wondered if her feet were hers.  There was no comfort in adding up a lifetime, no rungs on the ladder of time.  Vault of sky crashed and there was nothing above.  

First crow of morning had no meaning nor the sun’s first warmth.  Her heart collided with an echo of love, and dropped beneath the bottomless depths.  Below time there was raw sublime aloneness.  

Ocean song poured through her.  Adrift on a sea of dreams, love had no place when it was everywhere.  And nowhere.  Only this song of love that had no source or goal or words that needed remembering.  A reflection of futures day’s past cast a lifetime of shadows across the skyline.  It un-wrapped her nakedness with a story of a girl who lost herself and found these beautiful liquid eyes. 


Ocean bathes
Wet in wet 
Sun dances
Light in light 
Wind surfs wind 
Life breathes 
Echoes play 
Rippling reflections 
Of reflections 
Of reflections 
Of reflections 

Mirrored glance reveals 
Starlight pouring through me 
Through you 
Ballet of time and place 
Empty beyond empty 
Full and rich beyond measure 
We arise in the dance  
The twining 
Of shine and shadow 
A caress a kiss a gesture a touch reveals an empty hand 
Longing to be held 


Wind grows and falls silent 
Song of flowers blooming 
Day grows and falls into its own hush

Love wrote her name in my heart 
Moonlight swoons through moon-glow
She sings her name 
our names
 just like this   


Where is yesterday’s sky
Where are the tears of tomorrow 
When is your heart 
Not weeping 

I see the footprint of my heart 
Hanging in it’s own shadow 
Blossoming into golden 
autumn leaves falling 


I spied my shadow lingering on the garden path 
Lustrous moon filled my footsteps 
The empty dawn 


what happens to this game of illusion  when it’s realized that no one threw the dice and every number is magic? the edges of the dots begin to blur...

 It’s a dance a magical hologram of aparent oneness twoness and plurality, knowing not even nothing exists having an independent nature.

So tender so delicate these rippling waters reflecting wetness in wetness alighting on your tears. A kiss touches it’s own touchless touch.   

The feast is always on 
Rarely noticed 
Delicious beyond Measure 
Yet 
Brief 
That is one of life’s tastiest parts
And then there is love...


The space between the lips and the kiss 
Between the breath and the song 
The hush the pause that is always on

Whispers of nothingness weave a web where jewels are caught in the moonlight 

Weeping
Not joy nor sorrow 
sublimely bittersweet 
Tears reflect your naked heart


Cast adrift on an edgeless sea of dreams 
bottomless inky blackness below endless vault of sky above 
Suns and moons flowing through you 
The shimmering surface a reflection of your own gaze

His name a crown the prow of a ship born on a river of time.  Propelled by a tsunami of fear.  Pulled by the call of a distant horizon and a diamond see...

Cloud shadows soothed his naked desire to feel all the love he feared to lose, but the swirling empty dresses parted in the clear light of recognizing his hands had never steered this ship on a shoreless ocean.  

A shadow soared over the shimmering reflections and he looked up, yet he could not find a cause nor trace of what had never been and what would never be.

like an unheard unsung song on the tip of his tongue, empty verses lost their grip, and a kiss from within broke the silent sound barrier between love and joy and sorrow and the ache for what was.  

memories fell into the vastness as his ticket had no destination, his dance card unsigned.  A brilliant vacancy, no name on the open door, light streamed through the cracks in the ceiling and the floor boards.  Winds blew through his unfettered un feathered nakedness.  

rains plummeted into the vast unending sky as he was crushed by the enormity of nothing left to do or say.  No one left to do or say anything or nothing.  Simply this utter undeniable magnificent enormity of light dancing.  

His heart exploded from his empty chest and revealed the treasure he had been searching for.   

the empty gown swirls
and sings

Weeping and laughing deeply without line or tether, vast songs flow weaving the dream into songs of lions roaring, of butterfly kisses without nets. A touch less touch of midnight hush basks in its own reflection

He never needed to see where the sky kissed the sea, it was his own moon rising in the unfathomable ocean of tears where he drowned.


It all unwrites itself
like a tight knot
seemimgly inperturebable
the loose ends
of emptiness
like tendrils of unbroken sky

un do themselves

Finding nothing underneath the wraps
most grab onto whatever description seems to fill the gaps
but its all gap...

The invisible man
there was really
really
really
nothing there

wow

Stunning
aint it

Last song of returning partygoers echoes into the sea.  Waves crash and recede and reverberate up the cliffs.  Symphony of night, of cricket song, the sleeping breath of my husband, faucet slowly drips into a bucket, and the first crows call and answer.  They weave their nests in the tops of the towering palms which sway outside our balcony.  The heaviness of stillness whispering ‘this is it’ is evoked by poems that stir our hearts with a beautiful longing that cannot be caught.  

And who would want to catch the morning breeze, or stop thought?  They exist in their movement, this caress of life swirling.   Life seems to dance all around you, yet without you there is no dance no wind no waves to sing of your aloneness.  No one to revel in the intimacy of touching hearing watching tasting this all pervading feeling of aliveness that permeates the passion play.  You are not separate from feeling, no one has it.  You are not separate from thought, there is no thinker.  There is no one who can step outside of this edgeless sea of dreams and manipulate the wind.  

We are Impressions of reflections, a gossamer woven light raft shimmering on the see of dreams. 

footprints dancing on the edge of time...




there was never a moon nor anyone to point 
no time when or before or after

hello goodbye this afternoon without time 
unending magic hour
Moonlight's shadow fills the cracks where I lost my reflection 
infinite beauty ricocheting reverberating echoing 

infused with stories of love songs 
A kiss from within perfumes the vast canyon where I once lived and yet remain 
the memory of love is who I am

beauty roars flows tip toes 
infinite petals bloom 
Filling me emptying me 

Without these clothes of nakedness 
I cannot feel the magnificent ache of sky

Memories lost their grip
the knots loosed themselves 
where were the strings that held my heart 
where were the ropes that moonlight slid down 
Where were the vines that held my innermost being from exploding

Inside fell through outside
In between collapsed into in between 
half way towards up
a million shades of sunlight 
erased the illusion of shine and shadow 
my heart dropped 
weeping and laughing deeply at the same time
water colors on the river


this ever blossoming ever wilting momentary emerging and dissolving into itself sings 

Tears flow 
the world is weeping
sliping into the imaginary spaces between us
love ignites

Washed in ringlets of dew
set adrift
gossiping among the stars


Her reflection smiled back 
Dreams of kisses unanswered 
Tomorrow fell into a broken memory 
A single leaf sailed unencumbered by its golden radiance 
Leaving no mark to meter out time 
The stillness of Whirlpools singing of oceans vast 
Never caught wetness 


infinite permutations of blue on blue on blue on blue 
Vault of sky without end 

An echo of a babies cry sails across the sea 
Abject aloneness reigns 

Wet in wet in wet in wet 
Weight of light through water 
sky flowers bloom 
sublime heartache of this fleeting kiss

this touch that finds itself only in the barriers that reflect your mirrored glance 
your beautiful beautiful eyes 
weep 

Love has already slaughtered you.  Can you remember when you first felt all alone?  Can you remember when you didn’t feel this heartache? 

Love has already shattered your heart into infinite pieces.  You don’t have to wait.   There is no next.  Every mirrored shard longs to kiss itself, yet they were never apart, and need not be glued together.  You need no fixing.  

There is no seed deep within that will grow and flower.  You already are the most beautiful flower. This heartache, this longing is you. Life kisses itself through your beautiful beautiful eyes and lips and tears.  Just like this. 



There must be two imaginary mirrors for reflections of reflections to dance 
Through you I can recognize my beauty 
Through this dance I know love


And even these words 
Like infinite emptiness nothingness 
cannot be imagined

This essential emptiness is beyond any idea of empty.  Not like there is a glass that was full and now it's empty.   
There is no container of emptiness.   
There is not something which has disappeared and now there is nothing. 

There can be a feeling of no you nor everything nor nothing. A spacious vast expanse without lines or edges and simultaneously the knowing that you exist only as these imaginary lines.  

There is no word for the feeling of vast seamless thing lessness that includes and contains all things.

It always feels like what ever seems to appear Is utterly naturally perfect.  Knowing that Perfection and non perfection are made up, just like me.  How magnificent this dream of you of me of we.

The longing to share this, Knowing it cannot, draws my echo in sky.  When I'm not singing of this that cannot be kissed with words, there is truly nothing, suspended as awe.  

When we are born we cry out!  
Reaching out your fingers drenched in your own tears painting water colors on this river. 


All the emptiness poured away and ran into beautiful rivulets and pools and oceans of tears




and the sapphire and the blue are inseparable... empty words describing an indivisible edgelessness...
and leaves and wind simply dance...
wind has no idea from where it came... and does not care 
leaves have no concern as to why they fall and swirl and call winter into the sky 
singers have no care as to why they sing...
rivers have no concern as to their name, and with no purpose they so beautifully flow....
...and when the notion of personal volition falls away life becomes a beautiful effortless timeless indescribable flow...

words 
like a film of iridescent oil
Create dragons breathing fire
battles won and lost
Time becomes lost 
but passion plays on 
And the cup is painted with delicate swirls that spin clouds into your drink
we drink deeply of this life
this tiny window 
this brief glance
it fills us and pours us out
Through us the universe recognizes it’s own aliveness and sings 


Palm fronds bend and sway, reaching arching, falling, twisting and painting a fabric of sky.  Light dances through this wind ballet and weaves the earth with shine and shadow.  Where does the path end and your feet begin?  When is the sunlight bathing your face separate from you?  Where does it’s warmth begin and end?  On your skin?  In your heart?  When were you ever separate from this sensuous symphony of perception?  When have you ever been separate from the recognition of it?  When has your tremendous aliveness not been obvious through this unspeakable majesty of life recognizing it’s aliveness through your tender delicate eyes?  

The story of palms dancing and a lonely wanderer adrift on the shifting sands writes your feet into the picture and seems to paint separate footfalls and someone weeping.  Yet it is always life singing all by itself, there is no effort required to feel. 

It may seem like the story of you is so opaque it has blocked the recognition of this joy of aliveness, but the knowing of your supreme beauty has never been lost and cannot be gained, as the recognition of it is your story also.  Simply obvious always, awareness is aware of being aware through this passion play, this brief beautiful window of the story of your life just as it is right now.  


Leaf and flower patterns flow over and under my feet and into the dawn. Inside and outside dissolve as I revel in this sensuous beauty of morning that breathes me.  Thought sings just like this and a singer emerges in the dreamscape.  

The first beach crows announce the end of darkness so that they may fly with their shadows across the sea.  A call and answer love song bequeathes the day with a ballet of light and shadow.  Ripples of wavelets swim under over and through each other and reflect echoes upon echoes mirroring endless sky as they recede into diamond sand.  

Where were the footprints of yesterday’s tomorrow that beckoned with promises of love unending?  They vanished in the flowering of the richness and fullness of simply life flowing without time yet always in time.  Never a step missed or taken in this love dance of one of two of many of none.  



dew on the morning glory
night of weeping is over 
day greets itself 

the void has no echo 
no mourning song 
missing the sea
is walking by the sea 
longing for the shimmering waves as they dance 
love is like this

the perfect poem 
Got away before he could sing it 
It pierced his beating heart 
and sunk his dreams like zeppelins in the night 

and he tore up the empty pages and wept 
Not realizing he
Was the rainbow fish 
That got away


I am as you see me 
A girl a woman an artist a poet 
what is it that draws these hands that scribbles these lines that paints my mouth that sings these words that dance across your mindstream? What is it that longs to kiss a love song in your heart, your very own love song that sings you?  

I am this longing this ache of never and forever that dances life into the looking glass and twirls.  


What is enlightenment 
What is a sage 
What is the sound of moonlight shimmering on the receding waves


Rush and roar of traffic 
Afternoon sun 
Catches 
One 
Falling 
Golden 
Leaf 

Washing my dying mother in the tub, 
She loved the warmth and her favorite soap. 
She was so skinny!
The next time I washed her in bed.
I never believed she would die. 
Until she did. 

I walk around town hugging people.
No one is a stranger.
I feel how hungry they are for someone to tell them how beautiful they are, and how precious life is, no matter what it looks or feels like. 


Scattered voices, bits of song and laughter weave themselves into ocean song.   Egrets fly home to roost, white wings and the mirroring sea catch the last light.  Thin moon paints a door into the cricket night.  Walking through shadows that echo on the cliffs, the sublime ache of aloneness sings like this.  All eyes are alive with the singing of it.  Even the wind that dances in the palm fingers paints it across this path.  It is the song of our aliveness that we share in the shadowland, and it is the twining of songs that brightens into this searing love.  

I greet you and weep at your broken hearted beauty, or is it mine I see reflected in your beautiful beautiful eyes.  I can no longer tell and do not care as I am this shared humanness.  We exist only as each other’s echoes and there is no original song from which we spring.  Not eternal nor temporary the tears of time fled long ago and I can only see and feel this kiss that sings my lines, this love that bleeds into the dream.  

There are no waves nor ocean without you.  Your brain paints distinction through this ever flowing thought stream.  Through words the picture of endless blue.  Through song the painting of you on the cliff breathless with this overwhelming beauty of life singing you.   Without words this unsigned current of emotion drinks you and fills you.   What erases the lines between joy and sorrow is not the absence of words, it is the end of belief in them.  

Thought becomes most beautiful when it is known to paint the wind. 



There are no footprints on the road to nowhere 
Not even mine 

Last crickets pierce wind withered sky 
Mourning love songs 
Hang from a branch 
Falling petals 
Old poems 
Dying 

Caught on feathers 
White Sea Bird 
My eyes follow the sunset
Beauty weeps at its own unfathomable nature 
Through these eyes 
Love sings and paints the wetness that sees it 

In her drawer of intimate clothing 
After she died 
Hundreds of unused lick-on tattoos  


A sage is a self much like other imaginary selves but their brain has had a profound shift in perspective. 

There is no longer the belief in separation.  The essential emptiness of things and the holder of them is always obvious. 

There is an ever present awe and joy that permeate the dream, as enlightenment is the dream as well. 

This seamless sublime ease that the sage feels is not the end of self or thingness, it’s the knowing that all thingness is made up. 

Knowing you and me and love is made up is not the end of love.


Dawn looks at me and does not turn away.  
I write love letters that I cannot send.
I sing verses that it cannot hear. 
In this dance of light and shadow that trace my steps, my heart song, my breath in the wind, I emerge.  In these wild lines that emerge from love’s fire where there was not even darkness, nor emptiness, nor even a void, day brakes and sings.  

Whispered stories 
Shadows in the wind 
Empty silhouette of sky 


You may find yourself walking along a beach and start to wonder if you’re in the water or on the sand.  You may turn around to see from where your footsteps came, and find none.  You may begin to find the sea falling into sky as the lines that separated down and up begin to blur and you may begin to feel dizzy.

You may lunge into a hut on the beach where others gather and tremble at the enormity of sky and light and the absence of any safe harbor. You may mouth their words of vastness 
For awhile 

But the longing may outweigh the fear of unknowing and you may find an unspeakable joy when this absence of handholds leaves you sobbing as you watch your dreams of love and tomorrow burn in this all consuming conflagration.  

Never and forever collide in this unfathomable namelessness where tears still flow, but there is no one weeping. 



The empty moon inside your heart 
Cannot hold light 
Nor shadow 

Dusk flowers in the shadowland 
Wind beats on these tattered shutters 
Dark cannot hide your emptiness 
Nor your tears 

Crow sits in her nest at the tippy top of the tall swaying palm.  She has no thought stream to tell her the wind or the night or that she exists.  We cannot see the inside of our skull or the workings of our neurons yet Boundless sky appears in the day and the night time dream.  Through the thought stream the sensory symphony seems to have edges, lassos in the sky, cliffs and clouds and night and day seem to appear.  Before and after write your story.  But there is no before thought as before is thought.  All description paints the dream, there is truly no this or that without words.  All we can know is this thought dream, as we are it.  There is no escape there is no outside to the dream as inside and outside are the dream.

Many believe that enlightenment means the end of the dream.  An escape from their humanness.  This is not the end of you and me and we, this is not the end of sorrow.  This is not the end of desire.  This is the end of the feeling that desire is happening to a person.  This is the end of the feeling that sadness is happening to a you.  There is no longer any feeling that joy and sorrow and love and longing are separate.  

What could possibly split the night into a call and answer love song but this magnificent thought stream?


The lack of belief in next slayed me.  Viciously it erased the parameters of who I thought I was.  Realizing there was nothing other than this ultimate perfection dancing itself, which I had always suspected, eviscerated me.  I lost my smile my lips my teeth my tounge my skin my heartbeat my breath my life as I knew it and found myself again, ravaged and spit on the shore where even love had walked away.   

I got on my feet and ran into love again.  The pyre burnt itself and out of the ashes a beautiful beautiful dream arises.  However it seems to appear is always perfect, knowing there is no perfection or flaw.  

Is it bliss is it love is it awe? 
It is a beautiful longing for simply this.  Life flowing all by itself.  Amazed still after all these years.  Wide eyed love. 

Light and wind and love and life stream through me as me, as they always have, all ideas of grasping are gone.  It’s not that my hands are empty or they disappeared, there was never anyone to catch the wind.  Only words streaming through the vastness, the lines and squiggles evaporate upon hearing themselves.  No castle was built and there is none to crumble, just cloud dreams that whispered of a vastness that could not be seen.  It is felt now always as I dance on the edge of a feather between love and nothing at all.   


Supreme spaciousness of knowing no thingness drinks me as I pour it into a paper cup and watch the swirling songs that glisten on my lips.   this all pervading love that has no name nor number was always present, I just never noticed.  The lines that felt like a prison have become transparent.  And I the centerless jewel sparkling. 


There is no one who can step outside of what’s going on to accept it or reject it as the effort to accept it or reject it is what’s going on 













































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