I am a flowing gown of echoes

I am a river of reflections 

Awash in moon glow

Flowing through an ocean of song 

it feels like I am the flow
there is only the flow
there is no one to flow with the flow


I go to a mirror to comb my hair, and when I see my reflection, there is no... 'thats me!' feeling like before... but I can't say there is someone who is disassociated ... or a someone who is separate or joined...

It feels like a streaming edgeless three d flowing light fabric...
This is not a life of only sublime emptiness but a full on life of being human...
...edges are there when needed but they are always known and felt to be imaginary... I hold some boards for my husband to put together and the heartbreakingly beautiful symphony of light and shadow and his tender hand flowing, makes me cry... I stand in line at the supermarket and am lost as this beauty.... I sit here typing on my laptop and I am lost as this beauty...

I often wonder about Miranda, living alone in silence in a cabin in the wilderness... at first I would have been that guy living in diapers with a drool bowl it seems, but my husband kept my story alive, and singing about this with Michael has been wondrous, for when the singing stops, the singer disappears...

I didn't mind living suspended as nothingness... I was there for a few months... there is no one to mind!  lol! I cannot remember how long... but I also remember when the fullness rushed in all at once, that is when the tears began... here I was, much as before, yet I was not... dancing on the edge of a feather between love and nothing at all.... sliding at first back into nothingness often... now it seems like both at once... a wondrous balance...
oneness swallows twoness swallows oneness....
not one nor two nor many nor none...


as you walk along this path
with no end in sight
not knowing what you seek
there may be a collision of never and forever
as space and emptiness slide through each other
erasing all sides
and the middle
the horizon is lost as sea crashes into sky
rips the fabric of your universe
into ribbons of endless mirrors
reflecting nothing
as well as all things
as they explode
and implode
all and everything dissolve....
the very ground upon which you danced
collapses
there is falling
and falling
and falling
until the falling is falling
and there is no place to land
and no one falling

Many teachers keep on saying they don’t exist 

Seekers love that shit

They want to cease to exist also 

But they don’t kill themselves do they?

They want to live and talk about their own non existence! 

I heard one say that he would never go back to being a self 

Lol

Who or what would never go back?

There is no one or thing who has a self or non self 

That preference of that speaker is a self 

We exist only as imaginary selves 

There is no existence as a non self, simply the self is no longer believed by the brain that paints the dream of objectified separation.

Sun streams over the canyon rim 

Shadows pour down rocky slopes

Gather underneath the trees

Swirl in deep eddies

Under the covers 

Where stillness lies

A dream of day

Falling through night 

...Light

Swooning through dark

The dream character remains

All a flowing dream scape...

This amazing passion play

Playing itself 

No one makes life happen 

No god no source no consciousness...

There is no one to attach...

Accept or reject the self 

There is no hope or fear

Or need 

Of a never arising next 

And no one to be hopeful 

Or fearful...

No one to have or not have a self... 

There is not “just the wind sweeping down the canyon” 

Or “simply the crickets singing in the night” 

All separation is mentally fabricated...

A story 

A hologram of this and that 

Like you and me and love

There is no outside or before to this dream of objectified separation...

As outside and inside 

Like all this and that 

Is made up

This is it, coyote 

Whatever it looks or feels like

There is no escape from this magician’s tale

That writes itself 

With every word

The thought dream

Arises and self erases 

Just 

Like 

This

I called it the dam of affliction breaking loose and the avalanche that had buried all the light in hope and fear was washed away

What I found

Was so much less

And so much more 

Than I could have ever believed 

Or imagined 

When there was no one left to look

Or find 

The jewel 

The pot of gold at the end of the rainbow

As the rainbow had disappeared

And the center of the dream had collapsed

All the edges fell through each other 

As I fell into endless sky

All was gold

No more sacred and mundane

When there are no things

Not even nothing

All is spectacular 

What was blue 

What was yellow 

What was the curtain that fell on this sunset 

Where was the end to this

Very 

Breath

That breathed itself

Where is the beginning 

And end

To this love 

That breathes itself 

Babies crying 

Airplanes landing 

Bombs bursting 

People dying 

People who loved

And lost love 

Lost their parents 

Their children

Their ideas of love 

Crushed between the time plates of armor 

Like a freight train 

Rolling down the tracks 

Wind leaves no kiss

Maybe a falling leaf 

Maybe nothing 

Only memory 

That’s what we are 

Welcome 

To the human dream 

It is singing 

I love you 

I love you 

I love you 

Can you hear the baby crying?

It’s you 

It has always been you 

You know that

For no reason

Nor non reason 

Love flows 

Like this 

I am neither the wind

Nor the rain

Nor the drops in the ocean

There are no drops 

There is no ocean

something that takes your breath away

something that gives you a shock of piercing light, but no understanding, no clarity... 

an all encompassing light... 

that strikes your heart like lightening.... 

that is beauty... 

that is love

this recognition of delicious unknowing

 ...this sensuous lostness 

with no one to be lost

or found

this delicious unknowing

...this sensuous lostness 

with no one to be lost

or found

Can you hear that distant thunder getting closer?

can you smell the lightning on the far away mountains?

One flash and all and everything is illuminated

Burns a hole deep in your heart

Where love lies

Waiting to be born

Waiting to be burnt, seared by its own reflection 

your reflection

Loves echo 

your echo 

it’s story 

your story

Magically writes itself with these very words 

these very thoughts

this very thought stream singing in your skull

Blazing it’s own trail

You are this deep deep longing 

This burning love trying to create a path back to itself

But it cannot return 

you cannot return 

you have never left 

there was never anyone home

To leave 

or fill her shadow

No empty shoes to dance along a timeline between birth and death

Can you hear the waves crashing on distant shores

Unseen even by moonlight?

It is your own echo 

Your own heart crashing

Upon death’s door

Slowly slowly

Or swiftly

Rivers dissolve mountains

Ice and wind sculpt the earth

surf breaks down the high high cliffs

Where are you stand watching your own sunset blooming

Blush of dawn 

blush of evening 

illuminate your tender face

But are never caught by your tears

There are no colors without your eyes

This tender delicate wetness

Writes our stories with water in water

There is no between what never happened and what never will

yet this is where we dance

That razors edge of hope and fear between birth and death is not twirled along by a ballerina with an umbrella

There is no wind to push her off

There is no horizon between earth and sky

When time collapses 

you do too

A ballet of wind and wind

A symphony of light falling through light

Spinning twisting twirling dancing flowing rushing roaring sparkling pirouette of life in life

Death in death

Even the nameless is named

In this great dance called life

A runaway train with no source or destination

Leaves no echo or footprint 

the tracks dissolve in their own wake

That there was no train and no conductor and no passenger might illuminate your tears with wonder

Maybe today 

maybe tomorrow 

or maybe when you are dying

But

You are dying, aren’t you?

Dying to live 

dying to love 

dying to this very moment that sings you

With these very words 

love paints its own echo

It has no substance 

It cannot be caught there is no hand to hold it 

no heart that can hold this love

No place to rest

No one to rest on this slippery shimmering reflection 

of reflections of reflections of reflections

You know this deeply 

but it may seem 

far 

too 

devastating 

to acknowledge

There is no past

Just memories blooming and fading simultaneously

there is no tomorrow

Just thoughts of other better more or next but you have never found a future you have never found an past 

you have never found anything other than just this as it magically appears

Life dances just like this

Can you feel love’s heart beating

This on-again off-again rhythm

It is not actual 

it is only a wisp of a dream falling through its own echo

No one can catch it

Bring it to life 

or kill it

It breathes and dances only in these words

This thought stream you have tried so hard to get rid of 

or quiet

This quiescence is the very heart of all words of all stories

It is your heart beat your echo your love song singing you 

just like this

I’ve heard some teachers say that they are awake to what is going on, and that that is rare.

however, everyone is awake to what’s going on as there is no separate observer from perception.

There is an infinite array of sensorial input, and attention rests where it does, seemingly including some of it and seemingly excluding the rest. however it is recognized by everyone that they have actually been aware of things in their side vision, so to speak.

The brain evolved to have attention roam and to constantly scan and look for things that would help the organism survive and reproduce.

Many teachers will tell you to focus your attention, as if there is a you who had attention, on certain things, like the space between breaths or the breath itself or the space between thought or thought it self.

Any feeling that you are trying to do this or that you’re accomplishing it will only perpetuate the painful illusion that there is a separate you who is an observer of breath or thought.

If you feel successful in these endeavors then it will really solidify this illusion of a separate few and separate things called breaths or thoughts.

For this seamlessness of which I saying cannot be focused on! 

It seems that after the shift it is recognized that it was always on and yet rarely noticed.

As it is intuited knowing and not conceptual knowing it is not really a belief or understanding. It cannot be taught or learned or pointed out.

You know this edgeless seamless intoxicating wondrous beauty of which I sing, that is why you recognize your heart in these songs. 

You recognize this vast spacious emptiness without space or emptiness.

But Beauty, like life cannot be captured as there is no you separate from it.

A glimpse of this seamless slipperiness all encompassing emptiness may terrifies him and feel wondrous to others but mostly likely one feels both, drawn to it and fearing it at the same time.  

All attempts to be burned in loves flame will, however, make you cold. 

There is nothing I can do nothing I can share all that happens is that I love to sing of it even though it can never be kissed with words.

These songs may ignite that fire in your heart, fan the flames and block all the exits

no one lets go 

no one holds on 

self is the grasping 

creating a palpable tension between an imaginary inside an imaginary outside

there is simply nothing here 

vast sublime emptiness 

Without emptiness

and nothing there

No here nor there 

no past no future

Or now... 

no beginning or end 

no in between or middle

No form or emptiness 

emptiness without emptiness 

spaciousness without space 

vast seas without water ...beaches without sand 

Love without love 

...an unfathomable vacancy that nothing can fill

or empty

All clouds dissolved into pure endless sky 

sky dissolved into itself

every word lost it’s sound and letters 

consonants and vowels could not be held...

hands and hearts and love that were written with these love letters erased themselves... 

all imaginary things fall apart as these very lines write them 

And yet there is this unspeakable majesty of falling in love with everyone 

with everything 

but there is no one falling in love 

There is only falling in love as love through love

there is no self there is no other there is no love 

yet here we are loving each other

What never existed cannot not exist

Realizing that there is no self 

that what you are is indeed an imaginary persona

A phantom a hologram a swirling flowing collage of memory and self referential thought

Knowing and feeling always that there are no separate things or moments or events

Does not actually produce a feeling of happiness....

the feeling is is more like joy and sorrow and all combined 

it is most a kin to love 

But far beyond any ideas of love