Forest Of Sky

Whose voice is it beckoning you to the edge of the sea?  Is it yours, or the song of the ocean?  Are there two voices or does this chorus come from inside and out?   This is the love song you have never forgotten but you could never quite remember.  Where is this deep deep longing?  Why have you been standing on the shore waiting for your return when you have never left?  There is no safe harbor anymore, there is no more pretending everything is all right.  You have heard your name called and you cannot turn back.

Everywhere you turn there is nothing but vastness, and you realize it has always been this way.  It was a beautiful dream that there were edges to the sea, and a sailing ship and clouds and sun and wind and direction and a destination and a tomorrow.  

You cannot know the words or catch the song that sings you.  You feel it’s fluidity and I can see you swaying to its rhythmless rhythm.  You are so stunningly beautiful dancing with the sea and the wind and the light as they flow through you.  You have lost the longing to catch your reflection.  There was never anyone who had an ache for freedom.  There was no one to be free or bound.  The knots untied themselves and revealed an edgeless wasteland where no one lived or loved, and you found yourself again, dancing between love and nothing at all.  

Oh my!  Here you are.  Welcome home.  I love you.  

No one lost herself
No one was found
No one lost her wings or her feathered feet that never touched the ground or sky. 

There was not a someone nor a no one who left or entered the hall of dreams, where the walls are mirrors that resemble windows.   They seem to shatter your reflection if you try to escape yet may echo your heart song as you fall through yourself.  

She was a passion play that poured itself into a glass of sky.  A story book that lost its pages when there was no one to be free or bound.  

She dances with the stars and wind and fire that burnt even her shadow as the wind scattered her reflection across the vastness until there was only the shimmering.

Yet she wanders the shadowlands and gazes at the beautiful dancers adrift on the sea of dreams.  Love waltzes with love and she weeps at the astounding wondrousness of knowing she is dreamt that others are dreamt and only through their eyes does she seem to have any solidity at all.  Dream windows open into an edgeless sea and the wind pours through her and she sings of the wet and salt and pounding waves that toss their heads back like a horses mane trampling even the slightest bit of ocean back into itself. 

He spent several hours a day trying to let his thoughts flow naturally.  

Never noticing that they flowed naturally the rest of the day...

I see you’ve bought a new instruction book on enlightenment. Can’t wait to get it home and start reading. Maybe underline a few parts. Maybe write out your favorite bits.... 

Doing that makes you feel safe doesn’t it? Like you’re going somewhere, getting something... 

All the instructions you read there will only perpetuate the painful illusion of separation.  They say do this do that don’t do this don’t do that. It’s even logical how this would empower the illusion of a doer isn’t it? But you want to feel empowered. No one would want enlightenment, really. No one would choose to have all they feel is true about them selves and their world and all ideas about truth and meaning and enlightenment shattered, including that there is someone to have a world.  As you are those ideas, that illusion, how you gonna erase it?

I don’t say that it’s all a dream so pretend it’s ok.  I say all separation is a mental fabrication.  All this and that and you and me and love are made up.  Knowing that is not the end of love.

I am not trying to convince you as enlightenment is not a belief or understanding or philosophy or set of rules to live by.  It’s an earthquake a tsunami a catastrophe in which ALL you had believed to be true about yourself and the world including all ideas like truth and meaning and all ideas about what enlightenment is are ripped to shreds.  

There is a profound shift in perspective that is felt physically and psychologically when it’s realized that life does itself and has no separate parts or moments or time.  

This shift is uncaused and does not happen to the person.  It occurs in the brain.

And as you are an imaginary piece of sky lassoed by thought how could you possibly change the brain that thinks you?

This sun
This wind
These waves
This ocean
This shadow that slides down the path
Through the village

Through the morning 

That stretches her arms around the cliffs 

Pouring honey on the sea 

Making shadows out of dreams 

That walk 

And dance 

And sing 

And weep

And feel the wind on their softness 

That never dries the tears 

That have no name 

Nor shadow 

Trees dance
Footless echoes
Sing the seasons
Last sunlight
Beckons

Dreaming wind
Leaves falling
Under your footsteps
Shadows

Breath of winter
Kiss of night
Hush

Brief this song
That sings you
Sings me
Sings light and dark

Twirls and twines
Reflections of reflections
This pulsating dream dance
Feels like love
Feels like joy
Feels like sorrow
Feels like nothing at all

Dreaming a remembering
That was never forgotten
Erupting and dissolving
Sea of dreams 

Trying to run away from your ultimate aloneness...
trying to fill in the terrifying vast emptiness and fear of unknowing...
trying to find a reason for death and love ...
Trying to imagine a petaled path where there is no death...
Trying to figure out why
LIFE ISN’T FAIR!!!!
Trying to get back into the womb...
Trying to stop the trying...
End sorrow
End despair...
Find the treasure at the end of the rainbow...
God will fill in the blanks

Until the thunder...

Endless petals ever blooming ever wilting ever shimmering in the summer sun the midnight moon.  The dearth of light itself casts a shadow in your heart when you are waiting to capture the beauty that you are.

A sigh a glance a cool wind from the north sings itself into your mind stream and writes its name on your lips.  

My mouth my eyes my very fingertips are saturated with a love that writes its name in your reflection that I fell through whilst I was looking for love. 

Endless echoes of love’s reflection reverberate in this heart song that no one wrote yet that writes me. 

A song an ancient melody where the words soar as infinite vastness itself weeps at the utter unknowable sublime spaciousness and the majesty of simply this... this life this life this unbound life that has no owner no home no place to hang your hat no bench by the sea where we sit as wonder itself and gaze at the beauty of each other’s eyes. 

I am flowing fleeting memory.      Constantly forming and rearranging the liquid painting of myself.  A crow feather softly sighs as it liltingly falls through the morning sun.  The distant fishing boats heading out to sea. Song birds fill the cliffside and a squirrel chatters endlessly perched on the trunk of a palm tree.  The symphony of perception and its inseparable recognition is far too vast to be captured and named, yet the wondrousness of the unknown and the worded world dancing through me as me... I am the wind and the wind dancing through me.  Utterly transparent my echo flies across the cliffs and paints my silhouette with sky on a wind ballet that is unutterably beautiful. 

Such an enchanting river of song... the music of love’s heart magic pulls you in.  Beckons you to drown in your own sublime melancholia.  It’s the ocean calling your name.  

Love waltzed through my doorway and pulled the curtains as she slammed me to the dance floor saying 

Let’s dance 

It was the death of all ideas of love. 

I never felt like I had a choice or was doing the deconstruction.  Never tried to fight it no matter how much it hurt...  and it hurt like hell.  Far worse than I could have imagined I could hurt without actually dying.  

Even as kids we would sing sad songs about love lost and the loss of youth and impending death and cry.   The beauty of this fleetingness was not missed.  Playing the records again and again lost in this sublime melancholia. 

Forest of sky

Echoes 

Traces its fingertips 

On your lips 

Nothing was hidden 

Under your reflection 

Love another cloud castle 

Dissolved in this mirrored glance 

That weeps at its own brilliant transparency 

Not even a kernel 

Of someone left to know 

Or wonder 

Why 

All words are defined by other words.  These shared learned words form the thought stream in which you and all thingness arises.   No one has any actual existence, there is no one separate from what’s going on to capture or know it.  Most mistake this flowing description this roof brain chatter for understanding.  But there are no things to put together into some kind of place of rest or understanding and no one to understand. 

It’s a never ending loop, looking for understanding, a place to rest, looking for meaning, looking for any idea like truth or peace or love or enlightenment.  All that looking seems to substantiate the painful illusion of a seeker, and a solid stable goal to reach.  

Most seekers and teachers believe that there is something solid and fixed and eternal that is not affected by thought or feeling.

Under the wrapping paper there is not even a present

A self which is simply a flowing thought dream cannot manipulate or allow thought or feeling to flow.  Yet the brain which thinks can shift so it no longer identifies with the undermutter in which self and all thingness seem to emerge.  There is a palpable physical and psychological release when it’s realized there are no actual things or non things and no one thinking, feeling, or doing life.  

Many teachers say that they let thought and feeling flow naturally when thought and feeling always flow naturally.  Trying to allow or manipulate thought or feeling perpetuate the painful illusion of separation.  I would never say anything to empower this illusion.  Yet this no thing ness cannot be grasped with words or the intellect as all words are the apparent razors that divide what has no edges nor center and what is not even a what.  

The catch phrase I’m hearing these days is, ‘I don’t believe in enlightenment.’  (Meanwhile the speaker of these words really wants it.)  But quite simply they are right, enlightenment is beyond belief.  It’s not an understanding or a thing that can be taught or learned or given away.