poems sing me
I am this morning's song stretching my toes into the day
dawn reaches over the canyon and reveals light and shadow dancing
colors the finches and sparrows
and their lyrical flight
robin bathing in the pond splashing
the rising curling dancing steam from my tea
disappearing
where is the beginning to this flowing poem?
is it a poem if it has no end?
what is this un-graspable love song that sings itself?
what is beauty if not this tremendous unknowing...
what is love
what is life
without death?
cloud castles forming and disappearing into a flowing stream of wonder ...
Plunged into the sea of unknowing
Still, wind and light play on the surface
No overarching truth
Only sky and sea
Sun and moon and stars
No words can contain this light That has no questions
Or answers
No empty pages need be filled
With the petals of today
tattood with smiles and tears
nothing underneath my nakedness
no one wears the stars
or sunlight dancing
garden path
has no wanderer
echoes bloom
thought weaves a thinker
spider web catches the last light
day falls into the cats cradle
of dark
This is far grander than love or beauty or awe itself
It is life kissing itself through you
And knowing it
River kisses itself through your lips
Night drinks day
Life swallows you
As you tip this empty glass
Marveling at your own reflection
Swirling down the river
Scintillating aliveness
Breathes wind
Breathes you
Breathes the waves that capsized the ocean
Where the sun and moon drowned
Where is everything
Where is nothing
Where is the place where love and emptiness kiss
Where is the shine
Where is the shadow
Where is the place where long green grasses wave over your grave
Who took an empty breath when there was no one breathing
No one weeping
No one singing
This is as real as it gets...
This is it coyote...
....knowing that all separation is made up, is not the end of the conceptual world, the only world we exist in, the only world we can know... of you and me and this and that.
How cruel to deny someones death... and the pain a widow feels, yet I have seen that happen in these circles.
When no separation is realized you don't go around saying, ' I don't exist!' lol,... tears... You feel deeply the pain of everyone, as there is no separation. it is intensely beautiful, immensely intimate, the awe permeates all and everything. simultaneously surreal and real-er than real. life full on, unadorned. I never speak about this to people I know in person, unless someone asks. I am surrounded by seekers and they are beautiful just as they are.
I would say that you fall and fall and fall (actually it is like crashing though a million mirrors, with every shard piercing your heart), until the falling is falling, and there is no one left to fall... , no handholds are left, no reference points whatsoever. I remember one of my favorite lines of Alan Watts for decades was, (approximately), 'Indeed, you were thrown off a cliff the day you were born, and there is no use clinging to the rocks that are falling with you'. I used to read his book, The Wisdom of Insecurity' just to feel like my hands were off the handlebars, just for a moment. it felt so wondrous, yet I had no idea it would hurt so much to have this become the case. (it always was, yet it was not recognized)
Edgeless river
Neither moving nor non moving
Flows
And me, an apparent whirl-pooling of wet in wet, can only know the stream of perception and its inseparable recognition from this apparent point of view, feeling that there are no separate points. Feeling that there are no things permanent or unchanging, no things changing, no things nor non things. No thing that I am, yet, no thing that I am not. No things nor non things, yet all and everything seem to arise and self release without time or non time in this edgeless streaming momentary that burns itself in this seamless immediacy.
Falling in love as love through love
Constantly self arising and simultaneously self releasing, this life this life this life this life, this magnificent aliveness that I can never know how or why, or capture and not feeling separate from it, no longer care to.
Always knowing deep down that life is magical you feared its end. Trying to capture that magic made you feel separate from it. But it’s not an it, it has no sides, there is no outside to life, can you find an edge to what’s going on? Can you find a before or next?
Where are the characters in last night’s dream?
Where is yesterday’s sunset?
Where is the dawn of tomorrow?
This is it coyote.
There is no day nor morning when you will awaken. There is no more or less than this, wherever seems to appear, whatever it looks or feels like. You know this yet it is frightening!
What would you do if there were no next?
What could you do?
What would you add or take away from what’s going on?
If there is no outside how could you?
Where would it go?
If there’s no outside that you can find, how could you possibly step outside of this seamless edgeless flow and change it or accept it or reject it or surrender to it?
You are not separate from this symphony of perception and its inseparable recognition.
If you feel separate, do you feel separate from the feeling of separation?
No escape, is there???
Looking for solidity, for permanence, as well as looking for enlightenment, keeps the illusion of a prize and someone to get it.
Keeps the feeling of distance
Of better
Of next
Alive.
How deep the shadow sliding down the sidewalk?
How far or near this intimate feeling of sun dancing on your cheek?
How close this sensation of wind?
How far light...
How shallow or deep is time as you slide along with your shadow inseparable from the ever emerging, ever dissolving sound and light show?
How wide the day
How narrow the night
How precious this aliveness
That cannot be caught
Yet is always known
Inseparable from the symphony of perception and its inseparable recognition.
Ease-fully and Naturally life happens.
All by itself.
Without effort or non effort
Wind
Sun
Light
Shadow
How deep is this touch-less touch when we fall into and through each others reflection?
How wondrous wonder
How magical love
Nothing can be caught
There is no one to catch the wind who is separate from it.
No one separate from thought, feeling, sensation to choose it or alter it.
No one separate from life to hold it.
No one separate from this magical aliveness to understand or grasp it.
There are no separate moments
There is no time when you will awaken.
No past no future
No now.
I remember when the parameters of who I thought I was began to fall away. Such a delightful feeling of freedom was immense! At first they were ideas that I didn't like about myself, and soon I realized, like a punch in the gut that the ideas about myself that I liked would have to go as well.
As I began to feel free-er and free-er, it seemed like the goal, so to speak would be to feel free of my 'afflictive' feeling and thought, and be washed away into nothingness.
I fell and fell and fell until there was no one to fall, no where to land, no one to land, no reference points whatsoever...
I was suspended as nothingness, and it was nothing to sing about. When the fullness rushed in that summer afternoon, I wept.
...and wept and wept and wept... here were all the feelings I was trying to get rid of, full on, this nakedness that no one wore was inseparable from feeling....
No feelings are owned, I get to feel it all, the world weeps through me.
There is no line or shadow between you and the world... all is self illumined, from within from without from everywhere, from nowhere, there are no directions, no paths, no signs in this present called life, called now, which has no name nor non name as it has no edges or center. Just an imaginary center that seems to know that it is imaginary.
Knowing and feeling that here and there and this and that is made up, yet here we are, naked unadorned dancers in this pirouette of life, this ballet this tango this monster mash, this pas de deux, this one-step, this two-step, this call and answer love song ricocheting through the canyon of love.
The longing to capture the magic of wind...
Is recognizing of the beauty of impermanence.
Yet not truly....
If you truly knew this
There would be the feeling that you are the wind
As wind, as life, flows through you...
For what would you do with it
The wind
The magic of life
That flows all by itself
Where would you put it
If you could?
Are you separate from this flowing?
Is there an outside
Is there an inside....
The razor of thought cannot know or capture this edgeless seamless-ness.
But you can feel it deeply
You always have
You are not separate from this feeling.
and when all ideas dry up of what life should or could be like
looking for a method or a way to live
there is simply life doing itself
unspeakably beautiful
Unashamedly naked
No hope for the clothes of dawn
Nor fear of night
Falling in love with the fluidity of this aliveness,
falling in love with falling in love with falling in love with falling in love....
There is no actual color outside your brain
Just wavelengths of varying degree
How marvelous we perceive brightly colored objects
The brains of some birds and butterflies seem to be responding to wavelengths our brains apparently do not respond to
Yet we can never know what the world or color looks like to them
...Or our closest lover
Why would you want to get rid of self? To be free of ‘afflictive’ thought and feeling? Obviously if there were a thinker or feeler or someone separate from these, that imaginary chooser would be choosing nice happy fluffy emotion and smart easeful thought, yes?
There really is no outside to this stream of perception and its inseparable recognition, so it’s not really an it, is it? Can you grab something and remove it from all this? Where would it go? Can you add something? Where would it come from? Can you step outside of all this and manipulate or accept or reject or surrender to it?
It’s really not an understanding. It’s a profound shift in perspective, that I did not bring about.
The self doesn’t go away
It’s merely seen and felt that there is no solidity, nothing permanent, essentially empty... simply perception, thought sensation feeling flowing without the feeling that there is a thinker feeler doer.
Still there are deep deep feelings
Sorrow joy ...the sweetness of being able to feel so fully, unafraid, without hope or fear of a never arising next.
The entire symphony of perception and its inseparable recognition is all a complete confirmation of your beautiful aliveness.
Life happening all by itself, all of a piece, of itself so.
Can you see that NOTHING you’ve ever tried to do or not do has ever brought you permanent relief? Perhaps not one step closer to this elusive goal? Perhaps there is no escaping your beautiful humanness. Perhaps this is it coyote. Perhaps there REALLY is no next.
The citadel of the assumption of knowing and the fear of not must be constantly repaired lest the light shine through...
No one really knows what will happen, or if there will be a next. Life happens all by itself, and you’ve never done a thing.
No one really even knows what’s going on apart from the symphony of perception and the simultaneous inseparable recognition of it. We assume the physical world exists.
We can never know what it’s like for another
We are all truly alone
But
We can be alone together
Some appear to know that there is no next, that this is indeed it, others seem to live in a state of constant hope and fear of a never arising next.
There is such a terror of letting go.... which leaves when there is the recognition that there is no one to let go... that there truly are no separate things to grasp...
And life feels like it’s flowing through you as you. Life with no one at the helm is intensely full on...
This step-less path to no where is lined with tears
They are no one’s, but uniquely yours
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