Is enlightenment the end of love,
or the beginning?
everyone knows the magic of which I sing. this utterly empty aliveness, this obviously immediacy spontaneously naturally arising and self erasing, this rich and full unspeakable aliveness without other, utterly complete in itself, elusive and unknowable....
ungraspable, as there are no edges, no outside and no one to reach this idea of beyond. …unfindable, without time or place, as there is no other, better, more or next…
but it can be far to frightening to not run away….to try to ignore this great maw of emptiness clamoring for attention, and a life of looking for a non existing solidity ensues …because if the essential emptiness of all things, including the seeker, all yesterdays and tomorrows, and even love becomes obvious, it would be the end of the illusion of solidity, of knowing, of reaching... of hope... of meaning... of purpose, of a life with a goal, …including enlightenment...
a knowing that you are indeed, as you feared, utterly empty, utterly non existent and utterly alone.
but is is also the end of fear, fear of death, fear of life, fear of love, fear of fear.... it is not the imaginary persona who sees this, and it is unknown how this is seen, but the story goes that it is the recognition by the brain that its own mental fabrication is indeed, made up, simply a web of words of thought that has never had any substance or solidity, that nothing can be known, that there is no permanence, or impermanence, as there are no things whatsoever, yet all and everything is included...
for the imaginary persona this is a life of freedom beyond all ideas of freedom or bondage, it is a life of all encompassing love beyond all ideas of love.... a life of utter wonder, without time or timelessness.... simply the wonder and awe of life just as it seems to appear, and the inescapable humanness we all share.
moon
swept
edgeless skies
wind has no anchor
words have no meaning
meaning is a word
tears have no wetness
they are wetness itself
love has no words
love is in all words
all sounds
all silence
love bleeds
it has no anchor
nor edges
it cannot be found or lost
you cannot be found or lost
there is no you without love
nor love without you
is there a someone who feels incomplete
who needs to be filled...
or is there a terrible fear that there is not?
maybe all and everything is utterly empty of substance
of time
of place
of meaning...
counting the stars
that ripped through heaven
looking for the edge of time
branded by desire to find the origin of light
her heart plunged into sky
as sky pelted down
or was it rain
or tears
that could not quench the fire
that she feared...
this love and the hunger for it
that she was
the heavens opened
they were never closed...
or was it her heart recognizing its own edgeless beauty?
all that seems to appear is a dream within a dream
an atemporal dream ship sailing through a dream sky of time and space
when the imaginary sailor topples off the ship
all dissolves in seamless beauty...
love saturates the dream
love untethered
un caused
un graspable...
love without hope or fear
or need...
all ideas all stories of what this is are dream castles
forming and dissolving simultaneously
mentally fabricated things and events that may seem to form puzzle pieces that require a big picture...
of wholeness
of oneness...
when it feels like you are one of these pieces
you are forever wandering searching to find the other parts
to make yourself whole
but there are no pieces to the puzzle to who or what you are
and no picture will ever be found
you were never separate from sky
or from the love you sought
the dream of love
that you are
I hear an echo
and there is no longing to find it
as you are the taste of these eyes
this edgeless heart
falls into and through its own embrace
as the hush of memory dances with her own reflection
we seem to arise in the spinning
dizzy
in love with love
chandeliers of thought fall through the ceiling of
sky
or was it stars
piercing the darkness
love’s beauty
is that we can never know what it is
but we feel the rush
the sensuousness of this un owned un graspable aliveness
indivisible
measureless, edgeless love is inseparable from you
you are inseparable from love
there are no things that cannot be spoken of as all thingness arises in the languaging.
we are this web of words, this dream spell of thought, and all thought references other thought, all words, other words....
and there is not even nothing underneath thought...
even 'thought' is created by thought...
so we and our world are actually like a scaffolding of threads of sky suspended in sky....
filaments of space woven in space....
tendrils of emptiness trailing nowhere, coming from no where
as no place or time or emptiness can be found...
I am as real as you and tomorrow... and love...
real and false are made up, truth another idea,
illusion is illusion.
the feeling that there is 'something' beyond, and I know it well, is the feeling, perhaps, of the lack of solidity to the worded world of ideas and concepts that we are...
and this feeling that all ideas of what you are and what you are not, and all ideas of what your world is and what your world is not, are, simply, made up, mental fabrications....
but you, as an idea, cannot know this, that would be like the water in a mirage knowing it is not wet. so the story goes that it is the brain that sees through its own illusion, and that makes sense to me, as it certainly felt like that thing I call my brain got re-wired, but like all description this is merely description, like you and me and love.
we cannot actually know there is a physical world beyond this mentally fabricated world of things, but this is assumed....
self is the assumption of knowing and longing for certitude, yet there are no things to be known, and no one to know this, and there is no solidity, no certitude. yet after this is recognized, the self somehow remains, but it is different, as there is a sublime unknowing and a seamless love that saturates the dream of things.
you remain, an imaginary point of view, knowing there are no reference points whatsoever...
dissolved, yet dancing, in love as love through love
a song of love echos and you cannot hear nor not hear your heart beating madly as you are the soundless sound of love's infinite reverberations....
her words are untranslatable and no one knows this language but all hearts sing it, bathe in it and dance it
love is the very beating of our hearts
she appears as she sings us into this ineffable ballet of winged wonder
soaring through us as us
skinless, we melt, as all things dissolve, we never were
nor were we not
we are the wonder of love
beyond knowing and unknowing this obvious unspeakable aliveness cannot be caught as your hands your eyes your heart swoon through their own seamless embrace
inside and out melt into a quietude of bottomless intimacy
your heart drops into a dreamland of brilliant and subtle reflections falling through reflections as an unfathomable sensuous lostness erases the need to be found
or lost
all signposts have dissolved into the magnificent display of no tomorrows...
all and everything a marvelous illusion where life seems like a foreign movie you heard about but have never seen, yet the music that was played when sky cast her spell onto the sea as they both dissolved into shimmering moonlight seems to play on....
all is without effort or non effort in this incomparable softness that has no other nor before nor after... this seamless embrace falls through itself and no sides or edges or center can be found to this all encompassing love
there is no place or time to be caught and held and no one separate from this seamlessness to admire it, yet all and everything, the utter emptiness of nothing at all and simultaneously the worded world of things seem to beat my heart into wings
soaring
beyond freedom or bondage
with no place to land there is no one to fly
lacy clouds seem to form and dissolve, yet were there every any clouds, or storms, or long sultry sunny days?
I cannot say, as I cannot find any things, not even a looker...
I dissolved into spaceless space, deeper and broader and more extensive than infinity, yet more intimate and closer than thought itself...
yet I had never left.... this is like a homecoming, yet no one leaves or returns.... this wondrous dance of emptiness and fullness, of no thing and everything, is simply the delight of inexpressible awe
people ask me how to see this seamless wonder, and I cannot remember not... the idea that there are separate things and events seems like a black and white silent movie I once saw, this infinite embrace of nothing is not recognized by you, or me...
no one has this sublime emptiness, how could an idea know that it is an idea?
how could the water in a mirage drink itself, or know it is illusion?
as you are illusion how could you ever see that you are imaginary?
the seeker is the expectation of finding
something
or nothing
yet nothing can ever be found as long as there is seeking
and as you are the seeking how can you stop?
this ineffable music play itself, this brush of life paints itself, and there is no canvas or ground of being or staves upon which the notes of life are played....
all and everything is utter complete in itself
without separate parts or edges there is no one to slide off the mirror... all is liquid memory seemingly informing our world, and without separate things, how could anything be out of place?
how could life be wrong
or right?
life arises and dissolves without ever actually existing
yet it does not not exist….
you are the asking, the questioning....
is there something more that needs to be done, or allowed, or found, or
lost....
you are the seeking for handholds but you have no hands
there is not even nothing to hold
to grasp
to understand...
this magic you seek is in the seeking
the missing of it
and the finding
all and everything appears utterly spontaneously without effort or non effort...
what could be more magical than that?
there is no other better more, or next
you know that deeply
yet there is an unease about the prospect of a life without hope
or fear
or need...
how could life continue without a you doing it?
was there ever?
all lines all definition all measurement, all separation is mentally fabricated
a liquid dream scape that seems to flow...
but no before or after can be found
nor can a looker...
self sprung and self erasing the dream dreams itself
in the collision of never and forever
a sublime hush listens
echoes seem to bloom
and fall
this is a song without sound or silence
a soundless love that seems to sing you sing me
and envelope us in our own edgeless embrace
color without substance
light without color
transparency without anything to be clear
a passion play without a stage or actors or writers
or an audience..
simply a river of echos rushing roaring flowing through a landscape of dreams remembered and forgotten
a lost and found love song
without a singer
without words
your heart knows deeply this song of aliveness
it is obvious but cannot be found
or lost
so simple so all encompassing this aliveness has no edges
no outside from where it can be seen
or grasped
or allowed
or accepted
or rejected
the story may include the song of acceptance
and the longing for completeness
this is neither complete nor incomplete
there is no cup to be filled or emptied
life drinks you as you drink it
what is the taste of taste?
it is in the tasting of it
where is the love in love?
it is love itself
tasting its own wondrousness
through your lips
your tongue
your eyes
your skin your heart
this heart
beating madly
in love as love through love
life sings
all things are simply description
nuthin under or inside the words thought ideas concepts...
even love
even silence
even I love you
and I do
you and your world arise in the languaging
echoes of shared learned words and concepts...
ideas flowing streaming rushing roaring blood flowing through you oceans pouring through you... love flowing in you as you through you
like this like this like this
love sings
we are the flowing thought stream, it seems to meander here and there, but it creates here and there, and things like flowing...
how wondrous to feel thought paint pictures of sky
with sky
silhouettes of softness billowing...
through softness
wind singing songs with wind...
elegant architecture of not even nothing
lace wing clouds form and dissolve
were they ever really there?
where is there?
where is here?
when were they?
when were they not?
the dream of things requires an imaginary center
a reference point around which the rest of the dream swirls
when belief in that one point is removed
often the entire structure collapses
or some times the rest of the tent continues to billow...
wind songs feel real
what is real?
what is not?
go ahead and grab some of life and hold on....
and why do we consider flowers to be beautiful
more so than their plastic cousins
and why would we want forever
when we have never found even a moment?
this echo land dream scape of thought
seems to paint a world of things and a back drop of time
and space
and a you rushing headlong into your own demise
and oh!
isn't this heart rush wondrous?
this obvious elusive aliveness and
knowing this aliveness
aware of being aware of this awareness of this aliveness?
imaginary separation is the only place where love dances
we are echoes of echoes
emerging and dancing in each other's love light
I do not exist without you
and I love you for that
river of softness flows through you
paints your face with butterfly kisses
gently
gently
river caresses itself through the wetness of your eyes
sky reflections fall through the water and drown in the bottomless depths
where no one is suspended in echos of dreams
of dreams
of dreams...
wetness dissolved in wetness
the taste of no tomorrow slides through the tip of your tongue
and the language of love
sings infinte petals blooming
into the rush of rainbows
exploding and
cascading back though their own softness
colors back lit by sunset hover on the horizon
as you melt again into the edgeless sea
where you never left
yet never were
the curtains part, they never were...
you were simply a dream song that never began or ended
...all and everything simply marvelous thought constructions, elegantly crocheting sky into sky... unravelling all ideas of sky
neither solid nor liquid, an imaginary streaming of not even nothing appears to paint patternless patterns flowing into and through themselves, an endless blooming and wilting of infinite petals of loveliness leaving not a trace of even a breath of wind or petals falling...
rhythmless rhythms dissolve into a marvelous dream song
wings unfolding into sky
sky unfolding into wings
nakedly seeing without eyes
hearing without ears
touching without skin....
edgeless hearts reverberate as one and dissolve into the vastness of unknowing
the line between you and starlight never was
the veil is utterly transparent
all is imaginary
there are no stars strewn across the night sky, no points of light, no galaxies spinning...
no universe exists without things
and there are none
you are the thought dream where flowers and stars appear
constellations of imaginary reference points
stories shared by a midnight fire…
sparks rising
dissolving into night…
crickets singing
you are the heart of existence
and you are not
here and not here,
nothing can be found or lost
all is dissolved in a love that has no definition
no boundary....
we are pools of echoes
reflections of infinite heart songs
we are the deep deep currents, the shimmering surface,
and the luminous bottomless depths in this river of love
we are boundless ocean pouring into itself
simultaneously blooming and wilting
pure luminesce without shadow
or light
streams into and through itself
without edge or center
without background or foreground
or any dimension at all
this obvious aliveness, this enchantment without a magician
bursts into being
self sprung, simply and obviously a spontaneous ignition
life burns itself without ever actually existing
or not…
dancers swing and sashay across the stage and in mid twirl
the ground dissolves
the dancers disappear
and there is only
dancing
measureless tasteless spaceless space pours through your heart and there is only
love
breathing
the taste of taste
the scent of aliveness
hovers
in your mouth your lips your tongue
this love without other
burns away the edges of your heart
that never were
and you peer into a mirror
and no one is there
and you peer into the eyes of your lover
and no one can be found
or lost
there is no looker
and no one wondering why
I was the looking for love
and found no one looking
there was no love to be found
or lost
no things to be gathered into a bouquet
no meaning to tie it with a bow
and no one to give it to
walking along the beaches of a shoreless ocean
suspended as the hush between never and forever
neither day nor night
nor endless sunset sings
yet you can feel the music
this pulsating aliveness
a sourceless shimmering iridescence
fills you and empties you
bathes you in the long long light of this magic hour
oranges and reds hang in the sky
stream through your eyes
from the inside out and outside in
there is no mirror behind or before you
yet it seems you fell through the looking itself
what colors you and your world
as you swoon into and through yourself
neither moving nor still
dissolved yet dancing
no one ever had a world
there was no world to have
or hold
to lose
or find
no hand to hold the sunset
blooming in your heart
petals
falling
unspeakable softness falls through you
as you
is this love?… you no longer wonder
what or why or when life
or love
this life without other
or you
boundless edgeless seamless love
pours into and through itself
like this like this like this
just like this
and I forget what I was looking for....
and that I were looking
wandering endlessly the desert dream
I was
a floating mirage
hovering
on the edge of the rainbow
when the colors slid off the sky
and through my heart
I was pierced
by love's heart magic
ripped and shredded
broken wings
falling falling falling...
swooning into love itself
feathered softness erased the edges of my heart
and I felt my lips
my teeth
my mouth
kiss
words into sky
sky into words
wind
sings
wind songs
love
sings
love songs
and what is wind
what is love
there is no need to know
and no no one wondering why
…and you fall through a bower of emptiness and dissolve back into the thought dream where you never were…
the dream becomes suspended within itself as all edges collapse into a love without other…
all pervading petaled softness blooms, caressing you from the inside and out, a center less brilliance flows through you, as you, like waves lapping on the beaches of a forgotten dream, moon hovering just above the horizon, sun setting in front of you and behind, everywhere a magical dance of shadow and light, and all and everything a symphony of uncaused enchantment, without day or night or any time at all.
…and you are sky born, again, soaring skinless, you flow as wind in wind… sky in sky… without movement or non movement, without time or non time… without solidity or liquidity, a fluid stillness, the hum of an eternal-never becomes your heartbeat, and there is no looking for what never was nor will ever be….
half moon half sun
no moon
no sun
a brilliance beyond measure
undeniably sings
symphony of silence streams through your footsteps
wind paints and erases wind
dragon clouds form and dissolve
were they ever?
were you ever?
where is the sky when you are not?
memory sings a rippling iridescence that has no place or time
colors cascade through your body
you are and are not this shimmering spaceless space
you were an open window looking for a mirror, but this song has no sides
there are no words lurking behind the fallen moon,
simply sky swallowing the songs of yesteryear
eviscerating all dreams of love
absence of moon sucks in the light
sky swallows all silence
and all sound
leaves falling through the still
falling
sky
dawn drifts slowly through the bones of night
stars settle into their own hovering glow
wind soars through the lingering shadows
and leaves no mark upon the rush
of morning
sky
water searches the river for solidity
but can find nothing other than its own wetness
slowly
swiftly
sound
shadows
swirl
whirlpools of echoes drown
slide through your empty reflection
liquid memory forgets the words
dissolves into the flowing
without
other
neither stillness
nor movement
can be found
what is this hush that includes the symphony of love?
no longer scanning the river for wetness
love kisses itself through your lips
singing
ocean songs
everything is a reflection of me and I am a reflection...
there is no learning this or forgetting this
as there is no one to know
or not
eyes seem to scan the river of reflections looking for edges
but there are none
heart aches to find the words
...there are none
but the heart still sings
in love as love through love
we are reverberations without an original voice
vibrant aliveness sings itself
you are my heart song
and I am yours
and it sounds like a love song
that you have never not heard
it was simply bathing in the depths of your being
waiting for an echo
wind dancing in the tree tops
trees dancing in the wind
Stunningly beautiful..
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