I am a wind song

suns exploding
tulips blooming wilting dying
petals color the path
velvet under my feet
trembling vibrancy falls through itself
leaves this empty breath
dust flies across the desert sands
echoes of dreams that no one heard
wind soars through its own song

words paint the colors of day
they sing this love
this lover's dance
of you and me and we
a ballet of light and shadow
swirling
waltzing
spinning
all around me
through me
as me
an imaginary center
twirling in utter delight
amazed
at my own amazement
delighting
in my own delight
stupefied
at this wondrous unknowing
in love
as love
through love


How can you not be aware of what’s going on as you and awareness and the symphony of perception are the same?




You may feel you are making progress on a path to enlightenment... you are meditating and feeling calmer and happier... improving your life...  your life seems to make sense somehow... and you really believe that all this doing... is because there is a you doing it....

Enlightenment is not about feeling better or becoming a better person.  What’s better? To remain fooled by the dream of being a person on a path to an unknown goal...
or to have all ideas of better and worse, all ideas of reaching a goal, and ideas of a path and a ground be ripped away?

Enlightenment is a total evisceration of all ideas of this and that
Of all notions of solidity
Of a safe harbor
And anyone to rest there...
Blood and bones and the marrow of all things is burnt
Even love
It hurts like hell
It’s a war that no one wins
Everything is lost
It’s not about feeling better, or becoming a better person.
No one would choose this.

That’s why seekers prefer the company of teachers who prescribe a path and describe a goal to which one arrives.  These gurus keep the seeker feeling safe. They may say things like.... just let thought and emotion flow.... (don’t they always flow naturally?) or.... just accept what appears (trying to accept it is not accepting it, and solidifies the illusion of a you separate from it)
Maybe they tell you to meditate... and promise you states of bliss leading to an everlasting bliss.... or some just say ‘be still’

Anything the seeker does that seems to work even a little will perpetuate the painful illusion of separation, of a someone with free will, and a goal to reach.

Enlightenment doesn’t happen to a you.  It has nothing to do with you.



The brain has leaned shared words and concepts, which weave the shared dream of separation.  All qualities and characteristics all measurement
Like beauty
Love
God
Intelligence
Are learned and then projected on to the unknowable physical world which then becomes
‘Known’
This story of what is going on
This thought dream is what you are
A story
Have you ever noticed that after a period of a thought free state, thought returns and says, “oh! I’m not thinking!”, or more accurately, “that was a thought free state!”
There was no knowing of it without thought.
Same as the sensorial display and its inseparable recognition, it is not ‘knowable’ without thought. Shared learned words and concepts seemingly creating separate things moments and events.  When there is a thought free state, you and all thingness disappears.
What is thought but memory and ideas of future and other self referential ideas?
What would you be without memory, without thought?

You and the thought stream are the same

Is there really any thing solid and stable inside the swirling thought dream?  Or does the swirling seem to create an imaginary center?

And even this explanation is the dream painting itself...

All this thought references other thought other concepts
It still does not create an understanding
Simply more explanation.
Understanding can never occur outside of the thought dream
Understanding is a misunderstanding.

No one knows what’s going on
Knowing there is no one to know it may be realized by the brain that there are no things to put together into some kind of place of rest or understanding.


where is yesterday's rainbow?
asleep on the cool cool meadows
before the yawn of morning stirs the long grasses
and the searing heat of noon pauses all...
painting itself in this dream
of swirling thought and memory
that I am


was it my voice?
or the voices of many
or the voices of none...
...or was it the wind
that caressed the night in blossoms of moon Lillies
unfurling their whiteness in the dark
crying hello
goodbye
I love you
you're beautiful



the belief in the illusion of separation makes imaginary separation seem logical... if there is thought, there is a thinker, if there are feelings there is a feeler, and if there is action there is an actor... and if there is life well then there must be a conductor of life, and if there are things, there must be a unifying principal, if there are separate events well then there must be some connection, like cause and effect... if there are apparent choices there must be a chooser...

I would say that enlightenment happens despite what apparently happened before it... and I can say that all the practices and methods I seemed to be doing before it were solidifying the illusion of a doer, and that it was the HUGE realization that NONE of it had worked that threw me into the avalanche of affliction which ripped all ideas of solidity of thingness to shreds...


horizon unties itself
the blankets pulled off
your deep deep slumber
you wander to the edge
of sand and sea and sky
what is beyond your home
you can never know
you look back and see
your footprints erased
by this etude of sky
wind dances with wind
it has no mirror
or reflection
but is all reflection
like you

you reach out your hand
describing the vastness
your fingers drenched
with your own tears

sea reaches up
sky reaches down
slowly slowly
softly softly
they kiss
through your lips
your eyes
blue in blue in blue in blue
sky falls through its own echo
sea collides with its own wetness
and you are cast adrift
a wind dancer
on a sea of winds



I am an echo of shine and shadow walking through a mirage of shine and shadow
reflections of reflections swirl under over and through each other...
Empty footfalls dancing beneath ancient and future skies

There is nothing changing or permanent
Even the skylight in my heart
is made up

Where are yesterdays shadows?
Woven into a moon song
falling softly into morning
I yawn and drink my tea
watching the steam curling rising and dissolving
into these very words



if you are looking for a cause, you are the looking.... the reaching the grasping, the longing to capture a piece of sky...cut it out and and toss it back into the sky and announce, look! here is sky!

but sky has no pieces, nor does the physical world. even sky is a made up part of what has no split or division anywhere... the name seems to lasso a part of the symphony of perception and its inseparable recognition... which has no edges no beginning nor end, no time dimension or measurement without the objectifying human brain. there are no things that can be put together into a thing called a whole, and no one big thing that can be divided...
enlightenment is also a named thing, and is as imaginary as non enlightenment or before or after.... all these shared learned words and concepts swirl around as thought, writing the story of you, of memory and thoughts of an imagined future...

yes, through science we can seem to know the physical world, as through thought we can seem to know... as thought creates a knower and things that can be put together or rearranged into a place of wholeness or oneness.... or understanding...
enlightenment is not about understanding
it is not a belief
it does not MAKE SENSE!

and yet this shift in perspective may occur
just like all of life, without any effort or non effort by the apparent persona... all by itself
as long as there is the belief in separation it will feel that if there is thought, there must be a thinker, if there is feeling there must be a feeler, if there is belief, there must be a believer, if there is action, there must be an actor... and if there is 'all this', there must be a creator...
but there is no conductor of life...
if there were a thinker then it would seem that there would be clever or nice or what ever kind of thoughts you might like
same with emotion...
same with action...
and you cannot get rid of the belief in separation
or disbelieve it
as there is no believer
you are that belief



Isn’t it beautiful how all these words seem to create things?
Like atoms and a universe and reality....
Even emptiness and nothing are imaginary things
This is how the dream writes itself.

I would say that through that mass of grey jelly in your skull, which somehow learns shared words and concepts
One of which is brain
Another one is mind
Or thought stream
And somehow believes that these are actual things....
Enlightenment is the realization, a shift in perspective that occurs in the brain when it no longer ‘believes’ in the imaginary separation it creates.  The world is then experienced as a seamless edgeless unicity and it’s simultaneously known that the worded world, the objectified dream of separation is the only world it can conventionally know
The only world we exist in
Self is a mental fabrication
As are all other ‘things’
All the science tug quote describe relationships between imaginary things.  Yes some thingness refers to the physical world
Like rocks and trees
Other imaginary things are purely imaginary like selves....
What I sing of really cannot be kissed with words as all words all thoughts are razors
It’s like trying to use a pair of scissors to describe a piece of paper

So we can say that the physical world is “real” but that it is unknowable without concepts
And one of the Concepts is a knower....

Just as the seamless flow of the symphony of perception and its inseparable recognition as I describe it seems to create a thing called perception and a thing called awareness
They are the same
And not one thing either
There are no things until named

There is no forest there are no trees there is no falling and there is no sound without an imaginary observer
There is not even nothing until named




Can you tell when a thought begins and ends? Are there separate thoughts?

Can you tell when a feeling begins and ends? Are there separate feelings?

Can you tell when a moment begins and ends? Are there separate moments?

Can you tell when an event begins and ends? Are there separate events?
Or do these separate events only exist in the telling of them?

The reason you cannot find separate thoughts feelings or moments is because there is no you separate from the thought stream.
All imaginary separation arises in the description
The thought stream
The story
That you are



there are no things to be separate and there is not one big thing that can be divided


no thingness is beyond thought
All thoughts are about things
And there are none

I am a wind song

singing with itself

all tears are my own wetness

in love with their own sparkling

there is no source to this echo

that falls through a photograph

of wind

what unwinds the story?

where do these words go?

they are not mine

nothing is

there is no one to have a story

or escape it

no one outside of this spinning thought dream 

to grasp it or let it go

emptiness a beautiful fairy tale

to try to fill in the blanks

behind your eyes

Ashes Of Moon

I am a transparent swirling rainbow fabric woven of everyone’s stories.  This is the story of me... no one wears this beautiful love song... I truly do not exist without you
I love you
I am you


who was it who hid by the garden wall
trying to reach through the shadow of winter
aching to erase her longing
for spring?
I was the grasping for sky
when sky was all around me
my hands my heart could find nothing to hold
or pour into love's empty shadow
echoes have no substance
other than echos

leaf stain on the sidewalk
my footsteps leave no print



this wondrous love has slain me
and it seems I am always weeping
sometimes people notice the tears
and think I'm sad...
what is sorrow and joy and awe and love
winged ballet of sky and sea
merging flowing into and through each other
a thousand galaxies
uncountable pinpoints of light
dance in my heart when I look in your eyes
I am all our feelings
all our love songs
written with blood and tears
strewn across the universe
living laughing loving dying.....



Starlight falls
Streams through these windows
That were broken long ago
My eyes birthed the stars
And gave them paths to follow
Left willow rings around their trails
I wrote their names again and again
They moved into homes
Leaving me at their doorstep

Longing to dance
I called them every night
My only answer
Was my own echo
Softly softly
Falling through me

One night, right before dawn
They broke into infinite pieces
It was my heart breaking
Shards in my mouth
In my blood
In my bones
I cannot be spliced together
There are no more pieces
Of nothing
Of everything

Nobody can tell you
What you cannot know
But have always known
Deeply
Hope makes a door
That fear blocks
Love cannot be gained or lost
There is no one to hold it

As she walked
Her golden earrings spun

Fallen petals caught in a spider web
Woven into last summers grasses
Wind spins fall into winter

I am moonlit tides of echoes blooming 

And receding

Waves of all lover’s songs

Everyone is a lover 

We are love’s song 

Falling through its own reflection 

after the belief in separation fell away, the feeling of separation vanished.  It is known always without a doubt that there are no separate selves with personal volition who choose thought feeling belief or action.  All selves, including me, are a swirling of flowing self referential thoughts and memories, holograms... illusion. 

All life spontaneously appears, all by itself.  The notion that there is a source of any kind (no god nor even void or emptiness as some seem to suggest) does not exist.  

Time is another illusion.  Can you find the beginning and end to a moment?  Are there separate moments? Are there separate events? What would mark the beginning of an event like my teacup falling on the floor and breaking?  Would it be the dog’s tail pushing it off?  Would it be the day I bought the teacup?  Would it be the day I began to drink tea? Perhaps I could blame my mother for buying me a dog when I was a kid! As you can see there is no one source... I think the slipperiness of this is unsettling to most and so they love the idea that there is a mega cause or doer or god.

Notice how this commentary paints the movie picture of a cup falling, floor, table and dog. All words seem to create these things.  Anything said about the dream, every word I say in this letter about the dream of objectified separation paints the dream.

The last point brought up by Angel is something I noticed decades ago when I read Dostoyevsky.  He was also the belief that only fear of god’s retribution would create moral action.  However, although I was the belief in separation, this never made sense to me.  As a species we have survived because helping others, and forming community is an evolutionary advantage and is part of our brains.  Notice how a man will dive into a rushing river to save a stranger.  I don’t think he thought about it first...  ‘oh god will punish me if I don’t do this’. 

Here it is seen that all thought feeling and action arises all by itself.  Naturally. 

Some may use the word god instead of wholeness or oneness or unicity. There is no word to describe that which is not a that... as there are no that’s...  

I would say there is no unifying thing or substance, no thing that glues all things together, as all thingness is made up. There is not one big thing that can be split apart. 

All edges, all separation is mentally fabricated.  The mind or thought stream seems to create all this and that, and time and dimension, all separate events and causality. 

All measurement, all division is made up.  When imaginary separation is believed in by the brain that creates it, then there is the feeling that there are separate things events and selves.  

The swirling thought stream appears to have a center that feels solid! When the intuition that there may not be anything solid or stable or fixed starts to arise the brain searches for something, another concept like soul or consciousness or awareness or true self or god to fill in the looming emptiness.  

When there is belief in the self then there is also fear of death.  Again looking for something solid that will not die, these concepts can be comforting beliefs.

But all belief in imaginary things is never quite believed, and are accompanied by hope and fear.  So the person seeks out those with similar beliefs, trying to ward off the fear.

I would say that the physical world exists yet all the qualities you suggest it has inherently and are the obvious qualities of god, are shared learned concepts arising in that thing you call your brain.  Man creates the laws of nature describing what he observes.  Intelligence and orderliness are qualities that are beautiful description.  Some say to me that life is energy and seem to believe that they have understood life.  I say, what is energy?, and more description unfolds.  Most mistake description for understanding.  I would say there are no things that can be glued together into some kind of place of rest or understanding, and no one to do so.  Understanding is a misunderstanding. 

This beautiful immense intelligence you recognize comes from your brain.  You are the portal where love and beauty enter the universe.  You are the light of the world.  

Science is a lovely description of the physical world.  But to say that nothing is random or accidental relies on the belief in thingness of things and events and time. I would not say that life happens as it is written, or as it it supposed to happen, I just say life happens just as it happens, of itself so.

I do not reject science! Indeed I believe in evolution and enjoy the benefits of medicine.  It is simply that all description is seen as simply that... description. 

I would say that there is no meaning or non meaning, no purpose or non purpose. Life does itself and all these qualities are templates, like good and bad, that are imposed on life, and are simply shared learned concepts.  I often hear the story that god split himself up so that he could find himself again. That seems like a nice fairytale, and horrible for seekers who are in a lot of pain when they feel that they are not fulfilling their, or god’s purpose! 

Yes, the seeker is the seeking, the grasping, the searching for an intuited wholeness.  All trying to grasp these concepts perpetuates the feeling of a grasper. We evolved as all creatures to seek food and procreation and conditions that will keep the organism and species alive.  But humans are the only creatures to seek imaginary things like happiness and love.

Feeling like a separate lonely individual feels wrong! For some this feeling is so painful, after trying physical means to fill that emptiness they fear they will turn to religion and spirituality.

For that looming feeling of emptiness is the intuition that there is no solidity, no handholds, that all reference points are imaginary.  This brought to the forefront could make a person mad.  Yet it is the case.  As an imaginary persona you are alone.  And ultimately, knowing all thingness is made up, knowing you exist  as this swirling thought dream which allows the awareness of aliveness, the awareness of being aware, you are sublimely alone. 

When there is the belief in separation, it makes perfect sence that if there is thought there is a thinker.  If there is feeling there must be a feeler.  When there is action there must be an actor.  And if this magnificence of life... there must be a conductor, purpose and meaning.

There is nothing wrong or right with these beliefs.  Indeed there is no right or wrong way to feel or think or live or love or die. 

All of life happens all by itself 

Looking and feeling like anything at all.

As humans we get to feel the entire range of human emotion.  Unutterable joy and heart wrenching sorrow and despair.  

There is not something inside of us which feels so deeply.  

It is us.

wind free dawn

sunlight spills down the canyon walls

where did the darkness go?

I heard the storm long before it came

no one can say what will break the sky

into infinite shards of blue

I was the waiting for lightening...

the longing to be washed away

the smell of desert rain

was my only sustenance 

as endless blue drank me 

and left an echo on the edge of the canyon

twirling with her reflection on the other side

As conceptual beings our entire known world is composed of shared learned words beliefs and concepts

And trying to rearrange them will not lead to the shift in which this entire world is no longer believed, including the belief in a believer.  All concepts are blown apart, all ideas of right and wrong, ideas of meaning and non-meaning, ideas of truth or that there is anything even a ground of being which is unchanging.  It’s is known always that there are no things to be changing or permanent.

Quite simply there is no true nature, because there is no one to have one.

The search for something solid and stable and fixed is based on the fear of our own non existence

There are many teachers who will say they have found this thing called true nature or source or God, but it is just another concept or philosophy to fill-in the huge emptiness that the seeker knows is the case but does not wish to discover.

So staying with a teacher who recommends a method the seeker is safe.  

No one knows what puts a chink in the wall, the armor of assumed knowing, but it is not about rearranging the perceived separate parts of knowing into another all inclusive concept called understanding.  

Awakening is not something that someone gets, it does not happen to the person in fact it has nothing to do with you.

Before the shift I never believed that there was a God or some force, intelligent or otherwise, that made life happen it felt at times like I was doing life and at other times that life was happening to a me. Now it always feels that life is doing it self.

I find often that people use quotes to support beliefs about something they have never experienced, and to solidify their beliefs with consensus

belief in god, an imaginary entity which creates beauty and intelligence in the universe simply detracts from the beauty and magnificence of you.

When beliefs are threatened the self feels under attack as self is beliefs.

Although an imaginary lens 

My eyes paint the world 

Beautifully 

Knowing it is imaginary feels like love

Without belief, without imaginary lines 

Ideas that frame the self, it might be glimpsed that there are no actual lines around an imaginary persona....

It’s terrifying!

Any breach in the wall of assumed knowing is quickly repaired with more belief... 

Shared learned words and concepts weave together creating a fabric of belief that is mistaken for reality which prevents light and love from caressing and flowing through you... from inside from outside from all sides until there are none... just imaginary footprints made with sand in sand blowing away as soon as they seem to magically appear

what lies under these words?

where is the heart of the poem?

words cannot veil the sky

sky is a word

like blue

like love

flowing description painting our world

spinning this dream 

and an imaginary center

consonants scatter like stones on the surface of a pond

chattering finches hidden in the roses

flashes of yellow through the leaves

punctuate the dream with the illusion of solidity 

vowels sound themselves 

echo in my mouth

run out to greet their reflection...

we share these words

we share this love

this is our dance

of wind with wind

there is not even nothing under the words

under this thought dream

the feeling that there has got to be something more

is the intuition 

that all things

and you

are made up

I am an echo

of wind

stirring silent leaves

hanging on a breath

waiting for the kiss

of morning

how I wandered the desert dream

following a ricochet of starlight

longing for moon

I howled and heard no answer

only the tears

of everyone

of no one

all is dark

all is light

crumpling the pages

of all you have read

burning an effigy of yourself

your fingers seared by starlight

will not erase the feeling of separation

as you are not the starter of fire

your pyre awaits

I can smell the ashes

of moon

And the wind sings like this

Wind finds no purchase as it falls through its own caress
Love soars from no where to no where weaving a song that has no end or beginning
But we hear our names when love sings
‘Like this’ we say
most only see an empty afterimage
I move my arm across the sky and see and feel life to be a three d light fabric
Transparent and sublimely beautiful

And the dream sings itself
Like this

Infinite ocean soars through itself
Kisses itself
Paints itself as beautiful
Through your eyes

Water ripples through water and cannot see it’s own wetness
Without your eyes

You can feel this aliveness that you are
Sky draws a line in sky
with sky
In forms you
Out forms you
It’s all sky
Unfathomable

Falling through this dream of aliveness
Aware of aliveness
Aware of awareness
Scintillating iridescence is not separate from the water or its wetness

Beyond words there is not even nothing
The feeling that there is something unspeakable is the knowing
Deep down
That nothing can be known
That there is no one separate to know
To grasp
To gather the sky into your heart

The feeling that there is some thing other than this
Is the knowing feeling
Deep down
That there are no things
And the dream of separation is
A dream
Made up
And you,
A choice-less hologram,
With no things from which to choose

You know this
But cannot grasp it
It is unthinkable
That there are no things
No time
No beauty
No love
No self
No other
No better
No more
No next

This unspeakable majesty which is everything and nothing has no edge or center. As there is no outside, there are no things outside of it and no inside. As there is no outside there is nothing that can be added or taken away. There are no things that are interconnected or interrelated, and it is not one big thing that can be split apart.

Utterly spontaneously life does itself. There are no things, yet all and everything is included. All this and that is made up, mentally fabricated, like an edgeless sea painting a line in itself with water, there is no actual separation, only imaginary separation.

All thought emotion and action happens completely naturally and is not separate from the awareness of this symphony of perception.  No one or thing does anything or nothing.  There is no separation period.

There are no words for this infinite spaciousness without space... this atemporal seamless flow that has no movement or non movement.

You may feel you have glimpsed this edgeless emptiness and feel like you have lost it.  But no one has it as there is no you  to grasp it, the mind cannot fathom it.  There is nothing to have there is no goal to attain. There are no hands that are empty and need to be filled.

Unicity is always the case and looks and feels like anything at all!  It need not and cannot be made anew.  As it includes everything, and there is no here nor there where else could it possibly be?  As there are no separate parts or moments or events or selves, there is no one who can do or not do anything or nothing to see this.

It is always seeing itself! Just as life seems to appear, right now right here, as there is no other, no outside or inside or next. Through the entire spectrum of your beautiful humanness through the fullness of life as it flows, life is aware of itself, aware of being aware, through the infinite display of imaginary separation.

This is not a concept that can be grasped or a philosophy, it is wondrously unthinkable!  Trying to understand this sublime emptiness makes it appear that there is a you and a thing called emptiness.  But there are no things or non things.  Not even things that are composed of emptiness.... every word seems to slice up infinite spaciousness and this is how the dream of separation paints itself... these very words seem to create things and time... and a you who is reading them... and a me who is singing... but this is simply the most scrumptious passion play spinning tales of you and me and we....

Anything said about the dream is the dream
Including this

There is no ultimate truth
nor lies
No wrong or right
This perfect love
Slides through itself
A tidal wave of vastness
Soars

In the hush before dawn
Trees embrace this stillness
Holding vastness in their naked branches
Cricket song is over
Robins sleep
Last wisp of moon
Sails over the canyon wall
Leaves the birdbath
That gathered moonbeams all night
Empty

sun cannot bask in its own warmth
or see its own light
does the wind hear itself?
can water know its own wetness?
a mirror without a reflection is not a mirror
without the lens of self
there is no light or warmth or wind kissed beauty
you are the light of the world
through you love and beauty enter the universe

under the door mat you found a key
like the magic stone you carried in your pocket long ago
you just knew it would bring the shower of rainbows you longed for
the rock and brass get polished with hope
how beautiful the belief in other better more and next
and in a magic door that will lead you there
what would you be without it?

The thought stream continues but there is no one separate from it to believe it, or to try to accept it or reject it, or manipulate it in any way.

the thought stream, running commentary is not believed. there is no solidity to the thought stream. its all even and equal... whether it is someone talking about purple unicorns on the moon or politics or whether it will rain on Tuesday.
it has no meaning nor non meaning like the tree tops dancing in the wind.

there is no belief or feeling that anyone including myself is the instigator of thought or belief or feeling or action...
it is known always and felt always that all separation is made up.... a seamless edgeless love song singing itself like this

thought continues somewhat as before... but there is no more constant self correction... no more thought that myself or others or the world is broken....no more hoping that it can be fixed or thinking of ways to fix myself or others or the world... there is no more trying to figure this out! lol...
everyone looks like a movie star to me
unutterably beautiful
knowing there is no perfection nor non perfection
and no things to be changing or permanent
no one underlying thing
no source
no where to go
no one to arrive
it feeeeeeeeeeels
perfect
utterly naturally spontaneously perfect

a lifetime swirls in the glass
I bathe in sunset
the song of crystalline waters
is memories flowing
crashing into thoughts of an imaginary future
creating an illusion of a center

there is not even nothing here
or there
drinking deeply
this magnificence
saturated with awe
inseparable from the dance
of twoness
swallowing oneness
swallowing twoness...
oneness, another idea
like you

this is too simple for the mind to grasp
and too terrible to consider
that the imaginary persona
cannot change the brain
from which it and all thingness springs
your known world is made of words
and no rearranging of them
will slice up the sky
or put it back together

I was hanging by unseen threads
looking for a path through the deep deep dark night
I fell through the sides of my face
and found no middle
nor other side of darkness
only a cricket song seemed to stitch together points of light
into a tapestry of wonder
but it too lost its foothold
and fell into the stars
which had fallen
out of their homes

unraveling unravelling
there was no hand to grasp the needle
as it stabbed my heart
again and again
until there was no inside
or outside
to this song of light and dark

blood stained
and tattered
I am an ordinary woman
who sees all as extraordinary
I cannot see myself
for there is nothing here
or there
but when you call my name
it is love singing
and we find each other
in the wetness of our eyes
reflections spinning...
I get dizzy
when I see your beauty
we are echos whirl pooling
a call and answer love song
sky written
dissolving into its own embrace

what is the sound of moonlight?
where is the wind that swooned through the long summer grasses
late one night
long ago
where I lay weeping?
where is yesterday's sunrise?
what is in between a kiss and your lips?
where is the inside of this poem?

my heart is the sound of flowers weeping

wind flowers
petals fall softly
spider web of moonlight
footfalls on the sidewalk

I looked for a way that had no path
and tried not to try
to stitch all the words I had passionately read
together into a love song
that would slay me
pierce my heart forever
until time lost its grasp
on nothing
until love stopped my breath and my heart
and wrote its elegant name in the empty spaces
without letters or sounds or symbols
so that I might hear the soundless music that seemed to move me and the stars and paint the endless sky...

but when love eviscerated me
and skinned me alive
even love ran away
there was not even nothing under the skin
my very nakedness clothed nothing
not even emptiness was left...

there were no stars
or anything to move them
there was no sky
or mountains to climb
there was no sea to cross
there were no sides...
no ground of being
nor anyone to find or lose love...
nothing I had read could prepare me that there were no things
nor anyone to grasp or let go

after the tsumami I found myself washed ashore, wandering the beaches of a shoreless sea
I can find my footprints in the sand only when there is someone to walk with
all lines in the sand are drawn with sand
wind blows them away and sails through itself
life flows through me as me

its utterly amazing, that life happens all by itself...
knowing and feeling this, life is like a love song singing itself through my lips

What you call reality
The only world you can know
Is composed of learned beliefs
One may be the belief that there is meaning or an ultimate reality
And the only place you can look for it
Is the swirling collage of beliefs you are

how beautiful to recognize the beauty of recognizing beauty

Hole in my chest

I try to carve a window in my chest 

So when you look inside 

You don’t see a heart shaped mirror

You see only your unutterable beauty

Love’s softness
Has no edges
It ripped through me
Sucked me through its searing teeth of light
Gnawed on the sweetness
In the marrow of my being
Burned all ideas of something sacred
Something just
Something true
Some place safe
Some thing called love

Sorrow has no edges
My cries
Cut the moon into pieces
Falling through my echo
I watched my sunset
Ask me to dance

How big was my shadow
When I waltzed with myself?
Reflections of reflections on the canyon walls
Twirling twisting bending stretching
Ebbing and flowing
Within my own embrace
A pirouette of wind erased my footprints
As we touched the evening
Of warm desert sands

Sorrow has no end
Nor love
Joy another word for nothing
But this
Evening song in the hollow of moon


no one goes anywhere
or no where
its just reflections shimmering
on this lake of flight
memory kisses itself
creating an imaginary island of solidity
but there is no one sailing this boat
no wings or sails to unfurl
and catch the sunset
no wheel spins...
no anchor to fall into the fathomless depths
and find no ground to land on





just this yellow mug
steam curling like hands combing through and cradling space
morning streams over the canyon ridge
kisses the tall pines
and the finches gathering at the feeder
poems are my love songs
skipping stones across the sea
I am in love with the ripples

there are no true words
true a word like pure
hanging moonlight on a pine tree
words are ladders to the stars
stars are words
small suns
light, a word
words create the darkness
and a person who wants to climb out of it

all words have been spoken
countless mouths have moved like mine
my lips kiss the sun and moon
my heart swallows the sky
love is a word that fills the world
pouring letters through the gap in your door
left unanswered on the floor of your heart
oh! the stamps are so beautiful
they smell like lightening in the dark
they sound like a symphony
that no one wrote
they feel like sounds
boomeranging through this emptiness
a love dance
awaits



sound has no outline or inline
two hands ripple over the lake
weaving a cats cradle
of a song in motion
pouring light into a cup
you long to drink but the
glass shatters...
how could it hurt so much when
it was only water
reflecting your face

space itself seems to break apart
but it was only a love song
that forgot to mention your name




love crocheted tiny buds under my skin
pinpricks like stars in the night
waiting to explode
to bloom

the fully flowering of joy
requires deep deep sorrow
colors dance only in me
tears have no label

what is this wetness
that watered the buds
where was the light
they ran to meet
joyously

dark and light kissed
and disappeared
into immeasurable blankness

and the stars reappeared
as reflections in your eyes
and I saw myself dancing

you and me
light and dark
this magic is love
is rainbows twirling
on the tip of your tongue



the blending of silence
leaves in the morning wind
first robin

no birds
no wind
no morning
not even nothing under these words

poems written with sounds
I feel them resonate in the chambers of my heart
vibrate my tongue and teeth and lips
a nautilus unfolds
daffodils blossom

many autumns ago the bulbs were planted
but I fell off the timeline
between earth and sky

a thousand suns explode
a million schools of fish dart and turn
the world races
to the sound of your voice

catapulting dreams across the sky
incised by rainbows
colors melt into endless blue
every shard of hope for other dashed
pelted into infinity

there is nothing eternal
no things to change
not one atom of water is its wetness
wet a word
that is not wet



I am a flowing poem
a love song caressing the universe into being



without my imaginary lines, what am I? where am I? as beliefs began to be ripped apart, I noticed I lost my fear of others and began to feel that we were not separate....
when beliefs are no longer believed, the self does not disappear,

when the belief in separation is no longer believed, its realized that there never was a mountain, nor a you nor a me nor love
yet.... here we are walking along the mountain paths,,,, in love as love though love



Trying to understand emptiness
Substantiates the belief that it is a thing
And that you are a thing separate from it and all other things



everyone's voice
everyone's fire ascending
cascading into this river of song
endless hands cupping the water
remarking at the light
wetness seems to hold

dreams unfold dreams
what peels away the paint of this passion play
what unravels the letters of these words
these missives tossed into the waters
what dissolves these moving pictures?
how deep is sky?
how wide this love?


I am a fire in the house of love



I am your heart song
and you are mine


I sing these words so that I may lie inside of you
and feel your softness
dance
a bud a flower a song...
roots reach through the soles of your feet
flourish in the fathomless depths of unknowing
branches extend through your fingertips into sky
sky reaches down and swallows you
petals flutter in your heart
waiting for the sun
to rip you naked
I love your beautiful clothes
that no one is wearing


on trembling paper wings
breath of sunlight flows
sigh of morning
gently gently
opens my eyes
kisses my heart
under the green canopy
of spring laced sky

heartbeats echo through this empty shell
of translucent memories
fingertips cannot draw themselves
or erase the clouds

there is nothing inside or outside this illusion
of tears
weeping for no one
weeping for everyone
I have never been anything
or nothing
unending awe seems to describe a circle
that has no end
or beginning
nor center
it spins and subsumes all in its embrace
it does not come from me
but encircles an idea of a me
and without your spinning
there is no dance



Love’s softness
Has no edges
It ripped through me
Sucked me through its searing teeth of light
Gnawed on the sweetness
In the marrow of my being
Burned all ideas of something sacred
Something just
Something true
Some place safe
Some thing called love

Sorrow has no edges
My cries
Cut the moon into pieces
Falling through my echo
I watched my sunset
Ask me to dance

How big was my shadow
When I waltzed with myself?
Reflections of reflections on the canyon walls
Twirling twisting bending stretching
Ebbing and flowing
Within my own embrace
A pirouette of wind erased my footprints
As we touched the evening
Of warm desert sands

Sorrow has no end
Nor love
Joy another word for nothing
But this
Evening song in the hollow of moon


I bathe in after images of robin song
I am rippling photographs of echoes
Blooming
Fading
Plum blossoms fall through me
Words paint light and dark
And a lone figure walking down the sidewalk
Kicking through plies of old leaves
In love with the day
Swooning through my shadow
Gentle piercing awe of the streaming dream that sings me

Words seem to create imaginary separation.
When the thought stream is no longer believed, the imaginary veil between you and the symphony of perception, the amazing sensorial display seems to disappear. Imaginary separation is no longer felt.



Most believe enlightenment is about becoming a non human. But no one exists as a non self!
You exist only as an imaginary self in this passion play full of great sorrow and great joy.
This is not about discovering you are a something separate from thought and feeling,  Something unchanging...
It’s about discovering you are indeed nothing more or less than belief thought feeling....
a flowing thought dream...
A mental fabrication

The second part most seem to miss is that all things are made up
All this and that.
When the self is known and felt to be imaginary, it’s not that there is simply the tree tops blowing in the wind
Trees and wind, although referring to a physical world, are also made up
The story of all things and you is written from shared learned words by the brain.
Without your magnificent objectifying brain the physical world is unknowable.

It can occur that the brain no longer believes its own thought stream
The belief in separation falls away
Then there is no more feeling of separation

Many call this oneness or unicity or wholeness
But it has no name
There are no its.



all my life I longed to hear a song I had never heard
like longing for a memory of something I never experienced
longing for a taste that did not exist
yet feeling like I had a tongue that could taste it!
I feared this desire
it felt it was slicing my heart
and nothing could ever glue the pieces together
but now I know I am this longing
this broken hearted beauty
this longing
to touch you
to sing to you
knowing I never can
I know we are imaginary personas
masks that no one wears
I know that I do not exist without you
and I love you for that


No one lives in this suit of skin and bones
No one lives inside this broken heart
This intense feeling of aloneness is you
You can never touch another
Or get inside an imaginary other
You are this longing to touch
What makes this aloneness and this longing sublime?
Knowing and feeling that all separation is imaginary.



rolling through infinite color
the spectrum of time and place
meets at both ends

whats left when the dancing stops
and rainbows are simply echoes of sky
which green do you take out of the crayon box
to scribble over your face
when you know you can no longer hide?

on the other side of the mirror
death watches
mimics the movement of your hands
as you try to wipe the mirror clean

Without you
I am not


wisteria unwinds
through the breath of old lovers
new lovers sing
I hold the song of spring
in my mouth
taste the flowers
falling
colors swirl into my tears

love has no words
it is every word
collapsing into itself
it leaves not a breath
to hold
or release

seeing itself
feeling itself
tasting itself
through my eyes
my skin
my tongue

this voice that is all voices
this tongue that is all tongues
these eyes that are all eyes
weep the sorrow of aloneness
and we are its echo

the imaginary veil became transparent
I get to feel it all deeply
awe fills the tender hollows in this song
and saturates the pain

life never happened to a someone
as she wandered the garden
looking for signs of spring
she does not wait for tomorrow
death has unfurled its wings
love's kiss
swallowed her


love is an unfathomable wound that no one would want to heal



a lone traveller walks the empty horizon
there is no place left to hide
from her aloneness

wind tugs the loose ends of her hair
un-weaving the threads
of time and place and number
her flying carpet dissolves into sky
it was only a dream that there was somewhere to go
colors and shapes seem to form and dissolve
there was never any solidity
she weeps in the cathedral of sun and moon
and deep deep greens
all is lost and no thing can be found
love unwinds her shadow
watercolor dream scape melts into itself

she soars through edgeless seas
water slides through its own wetness
how the sun shines just so
from below and above and in between
from within, from without, there are no lines
all direction has been lost

white sea bird lands on forgotten drifting flowers
she no longer longs to be free
it has all become freedom
there are no things to be bound



awakening is not logical it is not a belief or understanding or philosophy.... it cannot be learned or taught or given away... I can try to explain no thing ness... and I will put a link here... but the closest the intellect can get is interconnectedness... as thing less ness is utterly unthinkable...

yet... you know this somewhere deeply, and the urge to remember it is the seeking... but as it is already the case it cannot be made anew and cannot be remembered... or forgotten...

for many the dissonance of the intuited knowing that there are no things and the belief in separation (which you are) is exceedingly painful, and like many seekers they look to people or teachers who say that they know this and can give it to you or teach it... they will say things like be still etc. but all these instructions will only perpetuate the painful illusion of a separate you with personal volition.
there are some who seem to have seen through the illusion of self, but seeing through the belief in all separation is quite rare... it is a profound shift in perspective that occurs in the brain and is not something that happens to you as you are an imaginary character

that is why a sage will use ambiguous words and phrases, to catapult the seekers mind outside of the usual grooves of assumed knowing


words unclothe themselves
reveal a nakedness
whose paint has not dried
the body longs for food
but the emotional hunger dried up
years and years ago
the empty thirst for freedom
and fullfillment
retired
when the vessel began to overflow
with a love light
that came from nowhere
and everywhere
there were no where's to be found
only a choice-less murmuring
ahhhhhhhhh yes
how beautiful this love

butterfly iridescence ripples through liquid light
and drinks me as I drink deeply
I am intoxicated with knowing that life does itself
and has no separate parts
no morning, noon, and evening
no night that does not permeate the day
dark and light simply words
like you and me and love


do night time dreams
slumber throughout the day?



holding the words in my mouth
like a small ripe plum
tart and sweet explode
but it is all sweetness
this ripeness of life
this taste of taste
that requires an imaginary membrane
between inside and out
closer than the tongue in your mouth
is this knowing
of this sublime emptiness
you wish to grasp

nakedly love peers into your eyes
and asks you to dance
what is she staring at?
there is nothing there

dreaming of plum blossoms
a naked tree



loves coloring book
painted the sky
so vast
it ripped space and time apart
and plummeted into my chest
seared my feet
like lightening
poured its brilliance into the ground
exploded the very core of earth
and evaporated all ideas of solidity.
where were my feet walking
when she called my name?
I heard only my echo drifting
across the evening sands

The thought stream continues but there is no one separate from it to believe it, or to try to accept it or reject it, or manipulate it in any way.

clouds on fire

burnt the sky

space fell apart

into a million pieces of gold

my head exploded

my heart dissolved

time unleashed itself

and ran into the sunset 

I could not chase it

as I had no feet

there was no path

to the edge of unknowing

but it swallowed me anyway

swallowed the earth and sky

and drank vast limitless seas

it was loves empty breath

that sang the world into being again

and found me wandering the beaches

weeping

not here not there

I am memories of cloud shadows

racing across the dunes