Sunday, April 29, 2018

I Am This Nakedness

I stood on the banks of no tomorrow
Infinite reflections slid through my eyes
A mirror has no sides on this wake-less sea
Not even sound
Not even silence

A magnificent bird unfurled it’s wings inside my heart and sailed through its shadow

I never found it
Or lost it
The tides sing its unspeakable name
They called me back into the dream
It sounds like love
Like sorrow
Like nothing at all



Canyon winds
Strewn with sky
Brushed her path
With blues and purples

Liquid filagree
Star shadows
Painted her feet
No one walked
Or stood still
As this silence

No one wore
This sublime nakedness
Steeped in light
Subsumed with radiance
Saturated with this fire
That burns even its own brilliance

Simply this breath
This breeze
This thought
This feeling
This sensation
Without beginning or end
This all encompassing
Hush
Consumes itself

Just like this
Life has no edges
Cannot be caught or measured
Or owned
The hand that tries to grasp it
Is it 




Awakening is the greatest emptiness
And the ultimate intimacy
Line less being
No one loses
Everything
And nothing

We were the lines that danced
Intertwining into patterns of love
We remain as these imaginary lines
That seem to create spaces in-between us
As we twirl down the Grand Canyon of love
Falling into and through each other

Echoes blossom and swirl
Wind paints plum blossom trails
Your footfalls need not follow
No path led us here
No one arrived
To this dance we have always been
This edgeless momentary
Has no location or time 




Seekers are trying to find the peace before or under thought, but this peace or silence is inseparable from thought and indeed all perception.  It is the recognition that thought never actually divides what is going on.  This deep silence is felt always, this knowing feeling of unicity, and as imaginary separation is created by thought, which includes you and mountains and moments, it’s recognition can be frightening.

The seeker is like an imaginary piece of sky trying to glue all the pieces together.  Every shard hurts.  Yet there are no separate pieces of sky.  Nothing the seeker can do or not do to arrive at this peace as it is either recognized or not.  It need not nor can not be brought about anew.



Weaving and unweaving itself, life is lived in the heart of these beautiful fringes where this and that are never separate yet dance so effortlessly in the wind.
Oceans and sky and life flow through me as me, these words that I cannot drink, yet paint me and swallow me, I am this empty poem that has drowned in a river of song.

Tattered water color dreams swirl and no longer have any push or pull on the moon or tides, or on these footfalls that no one takes. They dance a love song where I find this breath that sings me, sings you, sings a passion play of love and beauty and wonder.

Constant thought of remembered past and imagined future keep the dream of a person on a timeline between birth and death alive.
When thought is no longer believed and separation is no longer felt, it’s like time dies.

Yet here we are living and loving, with no hope and fear and need of a never arising next.




Always simply this scintillating aliveness that you are, awareness aware of being aware, through this symphony of perception and its inseparable recognition.  All encompassing, obvious, the big wow that you are has no edges.  It is only in trying to grasp this magic, to arrive at what you are, that seems to push it away.  Trying to gather the ripples in a pond is the rippling.

Whatever life looks or feels like, early morning bird song, words appearing on my screen, the softness of my cats fur, the refrigerator hum, thoughts of last night, of cooking breakfast, of calling an old friend, the warmth of my teacup in my hands, these words can never capture this infinite symphony of which my thought stream can only seem to lasso a bit of.  Thought seems to isolate these bites of morning, to slice this into separate things and events.

Why cannot you see this seamless flow of which I sing and sing and sing, this inseparable unitary streaming?  You know this deeply, this fluidity of life, that it is ungraspable, that there are no solid and fixed ‘things’, that there are no separate moments or events, but it is frightening.

There may be a longing as well to ‘let go’, but who would let go of what? Are there any things to let go of?  Is there a you in charge of all this?  A chooser of thought and feeling?  Of what happens in this life?  Did you choose your life, every thought feeling every perception?  When did you decide to choose to choose?  Can you choose to not feel like a chooser? Can you choose to not feel separate from what’s going on?

Utterly spontaneously this symphony of perception and its inseparable recognition flows without anything needing to be done. Evenly and equally, it flows. Without any effort or non effort there is awareness aware of being aware.

That’s all there is to it. All separation is made up.  You know that. But if it’s seen clearly that would mean that you don’t get this.  There is no one to win a prize.

Yet there is a sublime emptiness that subsumes the passion play that is no longer your life.




As beliefs begin to be seen through you feel lighter and lighter.  You imagine that this feeling of freedom of lightness is the goal...

the end of belief in self can be realized somehow without the end of belief in thingness....

Both are unimaginable!

When they both go is the end of the belief and the feeling of separation.  All thingness is realized and felt to be essentially empty.

Wow

Life feels like a seamless edgeless flowing.  It is like a heavy load dropping to the ground, felt physically and psychologically.  It never again feels like life or thought or feeling is happening to a someone or that a someone is doing life.

But that feeling of sublime emptiness is inseparable from the passion play that continues much as before.

Still there is weeping laughing loving, all infused with a most marvelous sense of awe.


Super Saturated with sublime okayness and awe
No matter what it looks and feels like
More amazing than I could have ever believed
This seamless ease
This sublime unknowing
This utter rest



Most seekers
Or all
Are looking for a way out of the thoughts and feelings they have learned are afflictive

They don’t want to hear that we remain beautifully human
They imagine themselves in a future where they are unaffected by life
...Kinda like being dead




My flying carpet unraveled into sky
Tattered dreams of who I thought I was
And who I longed to be
Collided into the horizon between forever and never
As it no longer could separate sky and sea
Or you and me

No one fell into clouds of confusion
Or the sea of unknowing
Where empty bottles washed ashore
Containing no secret message
As the words had fallen apart
There was no one to know
Or not know
Or to look for her reflection
And fall into
fathomless depths

No one wandered along endless beaches
Between the vacuum of empty shadows
And the vastness where not even light
Or darkness lived



I am this nakedness no one wears
Yet most are trying to hide...




Tuesday, April 24, 2018

Even Plastic Flowers Fade


Sea of warmth 
Liquid silence 
Is the wind free 
Or bound by its own movement
Shimmering brilliant immediacy 
Neither moving nor permanent 
Is not contained 
It’s recognition is not a goal or attainment 
It’s always on yet 
Simply uncatchable as there is nothing separate from it 

Neither you nor me 
Nor that cloud blossoming over the canyon edge 
Needs to fill the sky with blue 
Or paint the wetness in water 
Words sing an imaginary cage 
Around a day and a night 
Around this tree and the Robinsong 
Around a piece of time 
An hour a second... 

Stitching all these words together 
Will not sew all end everything 
Into a seamless whole 
This unicity has no edges 
That have been joined 
There never was a piece of sky for you to live in 
No eternity 
No now 
Not even nothing separate from you 

This emptiness you feel
Is the fullness dancing
In your heart you know 
There are no things to grasp 
And no one to catch the wind 



I appear to exist as an imaginary character in a world of imaginary separate things.
All perception and the inseparable recognition of it seems to occur in this thing called mind, as in the night time dream there is also light and color when my eyes are closed. 
Yet I assume the physical world exists.
This body as real as rocks and trees 
This self as real as next 
The feeling of being a separate someone living in a world of separate things disappears when the belief in separation falls away.

I seem to appear as a center of awareing inseparable from the uninterrupted symphony of perception.  I can only know what life is like from this point of view 
Yet it can be known and felt that there are no actual separate reference points whatsoever.
No feeling of separation from thought feeling sensation perception, from life. 

Yet this is as real as it gets 
Somehow it feels realer than real 
This nakedness that no one wears, life full on. 

This ravishing beauty of unknowing, of impermanence, of knowing this is it no matter what it looks or feels like brings utter ease.  Knowing there is no outside to what’s going on, no one who can step outside of life and manipulate or accept or reject or surrender to it.  Nothing can be added 
(Where would it come from?)
Nothing taken away
(Where would it go?) 
This is it, coyote 
This precious aliveness that is obvious through whatever seems to appear.


Cold spring rain 
Last plum blossoms 
Sail down the street 
Laughing 
I warm my hands and belly 
Steam from my tea 
Curls and disappears 
Night reflects itself 
Dawn blooms 
Diamonds on the window 

Air swims through air...
Space falls through space 
Light swoons through light 
Tears drown in their own wetness 
Life swallows me 
As I drink deeply 
Wind paints itself 
With wind 

The beauty pulls you in and you find it is you




Moonlight echoes softy 
Beneath the waves 
Rippling sands 
Sing 

Under the autumn leaves 
Love wept 
Waiting for a spring that never came

It never left 
Your beautiful song 
You never had to arrive 

This dance has no end nor beginning without time 
Time left it’s calling card on the dunes 
And ran away with the tides 
That no one found or lost 
In the dark 
By the sea 

I have no heartbeat without you, my love
Here take my hand...




There are no words 
Yet I sing 
Every word a razor 
That cannot catch what has no edges 
Twisting sometimes into a vine that can break apart ideas of solidity 
Like wind and water cleave the hardest rocks 
mountains crumble into the sea 
Pavement cracks and you fall through 
The ground that no one stood on 
Love blooms and falls 
Even plastic flowers fade...

Trying to catch the beauty 
To wrap around and hide sorrow and despair 
Your fingers turn to knives 
Stabbing your own heart 
There is no distance between you and here 
Between here and there 
Between you and your beautiful sadness and desire 

These iridescent butterfly wings 
Were never pinned 
To this all encompassing light 
This edgeless spaciousness  
This joy of knowing this aliveness 
Does not look or feel a certain way 
Nor do you

Always beautiful 
Whatever you think you are 

I find myself in your diamond eyes 
We exist only in this dance 
The imaginary spaces between us 
Twirling down the Grand Canyon of love 


Two diaphanous wings flowing through each other seen only when their ripples coincide



Light dances and falls through a momentary shadow 
Erasing the filagree where she had woven her memories of love 
It was the echo of her footfalls that seemed to be heading somewhere that collided with the end of tomorrow
Knowing now that it had always been this way 
This beauty that flowed in around and through her was simply not noticed

And where our hearts meet they flow into and through each other...
Rippling softly in this soft undulating love dance of this and that 
Echoing down the canyon walls 
Shimmering in the river
Wake-less rainbows reflect the faces of every one we have ever loved 

Pieces of sky painted with splashes of tears
Every petaled glance reveals 
A mirror of what I cannot find
And no longer care to capture.

It is indeed like love 
Illumined from within 
From without 
There are no sides when I look into your eyes 
Your beautiful edgeless heart

Clouds dissolve and form and seem to catch the wind 
Bareback we ride into the storm 
Dancing freely 
The scent of thunder 
Fills us 
Erases us as we 
Falling into and through the whoosh



Nothing makes sense 
And I love it 
In a way that makes perfect sense



Still wind 
Kisses my heart 
I find no one kissed 
No one kissing 
And no one looking...
Ahhhhhhhhh
This Sonorous lushness of seamlesss ease
This land, empty of even shadows
Is not the source of such brilliance 
They are they separate 
Neither are they one 

Love wrote it’s song in my heart the day I realized it was not mine 
To find or lose
Or set loose upon the world 

My pockets are empty 
Of even emptiness 
They cannot be filled 
They were ripped inside out long ago 
I am the tears of the many and the few
How wondrous to feel so deeply! 
My face is etched with rivulets for our flowing wetness


Sky and sea ricocheting 
Refracting infinite shades of blue 
She longed for the wet of wetness 
The taste of taste 
The love in love

She was a dream of love until she spied a reflection of herself through a sideways glance in the storefront glass 
Crashing through infinite shards of emptiness  
She was left with only her reflection 
Nothing on either side of the mirror 
Her eyes only shone in reflected light

The magic she longed for... 
was the longing



You come to me with your methods and practices you believe will lead to a peaceful mind.  
I say the quiescence of which I sing has nothing to do with if there are thoughts or not.
I do not see you as the instigator of thought feeling belief or action.
I feel your longing for this silence, this hush, that you believe your practice will give you.
You are this longing 
And the hush 
You cannot find it 
Or create it anew.  

All these teachers and teachings imply that they have something you do not.
That somehow you are flawed.
I do not see you as broken.
They imply that there is a destination and perpetuate the painful belief in other better more and next.
All there is is this edgeless sweeping momentary, you know that... 

I see you as unspeakably beautiful no matter what you seem to believe or think. 
And I weep that you cannot see this 
No one can see their own beauty.

Come closer that we may bask in the beauty of each other’s reflections... this imaginary space in-between us, the only place we exist.



My world is not mine...
I cannot find any things to own
And no owner 
Nothing solid or fixed
I can only find my feet when I’m dancing with another 
Gazing into their beautiful beautiful eyes I catch a glimpse of my own beauty 
There is a wondrous ache 
Joy sorrow love longing 
Flowing along inseparable from the edgeless symphony of perception.  

There is nothing caught in this flowing 
The net is simply words and concepts



This rich lush tapestry of perception weaving and unweaving itself, attention flows and rests, flows and rests.  Only a tiny pinhole is ever noticed.  Most is not noticed, especially the obvious non-fixed, impermanent, edgeless-ness of it. 

Sometimes you hear your blood rushing through your ears.  Sometimes you notice the yellow finches on the feeder, sometimes the steam from your tea, or the warmth sliding into your tummy. Sometimes the sound of the clock, ticking.  Sometimes there is thought of yesterday or that time you last saw your mother.  Sometimes there is thought of the coming day, or planning a trip to the mountains when the snow melts. Mostly you walk without noticing where your feet are placed.  You may eat or drink without actually noticing. This all encompassing fluidity of perception is never separate from the aware-ing of it. 

Thought seems to capture a part of this flowing, every word seems to throw a lasso around a bit of this edgeless symphony.  Yet ‘seems’ is the key word.  

Everyone knows deep down that this ever present symphony of perception and its inseparable recognition is all we can know.  This ever blooming ever wilting, self creating self releasing momentary is obviously fluid and cannot be captured or indeed ‘known’ in the conventional sense.  The ‘known’ world or the worded world is a conceptual virtual world of this and that. All description paints it, even these words you are reading now.  

Yet is any ‘thing’ ever caught, or do words seem to create ‘things’? 

It’s terrifying to consider that there really are no things, as you are one of these imaginary things.  Yet if the essential emptiness of things and self is actually realized, and the blank isn’t filled in with more concepts like true self or pure consciousness or timeless awareness, life is experienced as a seamless flow with no feeling of separation.  

The conceptual world continues much as before, the stories continue to write themselves, yet it is never again believed.  Yet knowing you and I and love are made up, is not the end of love.



Trying to let go of 
Or accept your story 
Becomes your story
It’s story 
You are story 
All the way down 
Even down is a story

Even story is story 

It’s simply amazing how shared learned words paint the story 
All by itself 
Just like this, the dream of objectified separation seems to appear! 

Wednesday, April 18, 2018

Winged Emptiness Blooms


Wind blows
Hearts beat and brake
Rain and tears fall
Gathering in pools of echoes that shimmer in their own reflection.

For no reason the moon rises and shadows of memory flow across the leaf scattered path.
That no one followed
That no one danced upon.
Yet you find yourself dancing with the darkness and the sliver of ancient moon.

The garden a stage where we seem to meet in the birth of night touching day,
In between sky.
We no longer look for shadows under the wind’s gathering of leaves from autumn.
No more dreams to burn...

Winter clothes itself with tears
It’s nakedness reaches up through the long silence.
Love melts the shadows of ice crystals flowing.
The darkness was never empty
Nor full
You could no longer hide from your own shadow or your own beautiful reflection.
It burnt its name in your heart
That you treasured
For awhile,
Until the vastness claimed itself.
Spring grew into summer and time flowed back into and through itself. 


no words....
So many words 
Spring blossoms and falls 
Scattering velvet petals among our footfalls
That no one can follow or grasp or trace, even memory flows along the river that we drowned in long ago far away when we lost the belief that we were unchanging 
Wind sings our name 
Our name is love 
It beckons us 
It is us


It’s a bittersweet beautiful melancholy 
Time 
Life 
Sadness 
Joy 
Awe 
Happen 
For no one 
To no one 
Yet I’m here 
Sobbing



Emptiness a word to try to swallow the ocean
Consciousness another to try to calm the sea 
Truth an idea, an imaginary port on these edgeless waters 
God a concept to try to hide 
Your naked aloneness 
The ever looming horizon 
Sunset beckons...

I see your brokenhearted beauty 
Through these eyes that are not mine
Through these lips these teeth this tongue 
These words that we share sing themselves 
This edgeless momentary that burns itself 
Is the fire of your aliveness



Slip stream of life 
Wind
My empty breath 
Flower of moon 
Falls through this open hand 

Drinking deeply this softness 
Falling petals paint the tapestry of wind 
Flowing through itself 

Glass casts its own shadow
Illuminates your reflection 
Dissolves as you swallow 
Life as it swallows you. 


Where is the beginning and end of sky 
When sky is your nakedness 
Your aloneness 
The majesty 
That no one wears


And I am a symphony of words falling through a song of unknowing


If ya can’t catch what’s going on it’s because yer not separate from it.  
There simply is no now 
Nor anyone to be in or out of it.

There is no outside to what’s going on
And no inside...




the self, like a canvass stretched across the horizon, a wall of fear keeping out the sun, and the knowing of the inevitable sun's set.
the paint may crack and crumble and light begin to shine... in you as you through you... laughing and weeping madly as the horizon falls into sky into sea, into itself where never and forever collide... it was a beautiful water color dreamscape flowing on a river and a magical idea that there was someone holding the paint brush, and a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow of fleeting... colors... that bled into this song of wordless wonder that sings like this...
this sumptuous sensuous aliveness that has no words yet includes all of them, that has no things, yet includes all things, that has no wonder, yet wonder is found 
everywhere
no where
here
yet not
this bird sings



where did you get all these words concepts ideas that flow through your mind stream? is it YOUR mind stream? 
obviously this flow of thought does not go where you want it to.
obviously this flow of feeling does not flow as you would wish.
can you find the beginning and end to a thought or feeling or moment?
are there indeed separate thoughts feelings or moments?
there would have to be a you outside of all this to find separate thoughts and feelings and moments, wouldn't there...
to gather time and plant a sunrise


where are the edges to your heart?
what is this ache for the un-nameable
this beauty we feel yet cannot capture?
the wholeness the fullness this emptiness that shimmers so?
this sonorous silence that ripples its tenderness on your face?
is it your song?
this song of wind
did it kiss your cheek
as it dried your tears late last night when the moon was swallowed in wonder?
is the wetness, the dryness, the moonlight dancing in you or outside of you?
are there sides?
can you find a space between your cheek and the wind's kiss?
between a kiss and your lips?
between a breath and the song?
when is the dancer not the dance?
when is the singer not the song?

perhaps it is the not knowing that is so beautiful
are you separate from this beauty of unknowing?


If ya can’t catch what’s going on it’s because yer not separate from it.  
There simply is no now 
Nor anyone to be in or out of it.

There is no outside to what’s going on
And no inside...



spring rains 
Seasons flowing 
Unbound treasure 
How I used to long for the first robin song

This is it 
She whispered 
There is no that 
Nor this...

This broken hearted beauty 
paints our silhouette with sky in sky...
The paint falls off the glass and the 
Transparency of even love shines through

Sky just as vast and ungraspaspable in the night time dream
Lit from within 
Lit from without 
The moon shines 
Not from the sun 
But in your eyes

Through this eyes of aliveness 
That no one wears 
Brilliant searing transparency 
Illuminates our reflection 
Through each other’s eyes 

liquid eyes of fire 
Looking through this lens of love
Dissolving into our own desire  
Chrysanthemum clouds billow and weep 
We watch ourselves blown away 
Ashes in the wind 


Not even his own tears held the wetness he longed for




I have tasted your heart 
It is mine as well 
Beautiful all encompassing radiance 
Like love
Like sorrow
Like awe
Like nothing at all
This searing brilliance 
Burns even its own fire 




First robin song 
Soft breath of morning 
On my pillow 
On the terrace
Long shadows fill
The space of empty moon 

Colors burst open 
The door of night 
Mountains and valleys swoon 
Cottonwoods in spring 
Slow dance of wonder 
Soaring down the canyon 
Riding the winds 



light and wind 
sea and surf 
flowing through her as her...
Winged emptiness blooms