Sea of warmth
Liquid silence
Is the wind free
Or bound by its own movement
Shimmering brilliant immediacy
Neither moving nor permanent
Is not contained
It’s recognition is not a goal or attainment
It’s always on yet
Simply uncatchable as there is nothing separate from it
Neither you nor me
Nor that cloud blossoming over the canyon edge
Needs to fill the sky with blue
Or paint the wetness in water
Words sing an imaginary cage
Around a day and a night
Around this tree and the Robinsong
Around a piece of time
An hour a second...
Stitching all these words together
Will not sew all end everything
Into a seamless whole
This unicity has no edges
That have been joined
There never was a piece of sky for you to live in
No eternity
No now
Not even nothing separate from you
This emptiness you feel
Is the fullness dancing
In your heart you know
There are no things to grasp
And no one to catch the wind
I appear to exist as an imaginary character in a world of imaginary separate things.
All perception and the inseparable recognition of it seems to occur in this thing called mind, as in the night time dream there is also light and color when my eyes are closed.
Yet I assume the physical world exists.
This body as real as rocks and trees
This self as real as next
The feeling of being a separate someone living in a world of separate things disappears when the belief in separation falls away.
I seem to appear as a center of awareing inseparable from the uninterrupted symphony of perception. I can only know what life is like from this point of view
Yet it can be known and felt that there are no actual separate reference points whatsoever.
No feeling of separation from thought feeling sensation perception, from life.
Yet this is as real as it gets
Somehow it feels realer than real
This nakedness that no one wears, life full on.
This ravishing beauty of unknowing, of impermanence, of knowing this is it no matter what it looks or feels like brings utter ease. Knowing there is no outside to what’s going on, no one who can step outside of life and manipulate or accept or reject or surrender to it. Nothing can be added
(Where would it come from?)
Nothing taken away
(Where would it go?)
This is it, coyote
This precious aliveness that is obvious through whatever seems to appear.
Cold spring rain
Last plum blossoms
Sail down the street
Laughing
I warm my hands and belly
Steam from my tea
Curls and disappears
Night reflects itself
Dawn blooms
Diamonds on the window
Air swims through air...
Space falls through space
Light swoons through light
Tears drown in their own wetness
Life swallows me
As I drink deeply
Wind paints itself
With wind
The beauty pulls you in and you find it is you
Moonlight echoes softy
Beneath the waves
Rippling sands
Sing
Under the autumn leaves
Love wept
Waiting for a spring that never came
It never left
Your beautiful song
You never had to arrive
This dance has no end nor beginning without time
Time left it’s calling card on the dunes
And ran away with the tides
That no one found or lost
In the dark
By the sea
I have no heartbeat without you, my love
Here take my hand...
There are no words
Yet I sing
Every word a razor
That cannot catch what has no edges
Twisting sometimes into a vine that can break apart ideas of solidity
Like wind and water cleave the hardest rocks
mountains crumble into the sea
Pavement cracks and you fall through
The ground that no one stood on
Love blooms and falls
Even plastic flowers fade...
Trying to catch the beauty
To wrap around and hide sorrow and despair
Your fingers turn to knives
Stabbing your own heart
There is no distance between you and here
Between here and there
Between you and your beautiful sadness and desire
These iridescent butterfly wings
Were never pinned
To this all encompassing light
This edgeless spaciousness
This joy of knowing this aliveness
Does not look or feel a certain way
Nor do you
Always beautiful
Whatever you think you are
I find myself in your diamond eyes
We exist only in this dance
The imaginary spaces between us
Twirling down the Grand Canyon of love
Light dances and falls through a momentary shadow
Erasing the filagree where she had woven her memories of love
It was the echo of her footfalls that seemed to be heading somewhere that collided with the end of tomorrow
Knowing now that it had always been this way
This beauty that flowed in around and through her was simply not noticed
And where our hearts meet they flow into and through each other...
Rippling softly in this soft undulating love dance of this and that
Echoing down the canyon walls
Shimmering in the river
Wake-less rainbows reflect the faces of every one we have ever loved
Pieces of sky painted with splashes of tears
Every petaled glance reveals
A mirror of what I cannot find
And no longer care to capture.
It is indeed like love
Illumined from within
From without
There are no sides when I look into your eyes
Your beautiful edgeless heart
Clouds dissolve and form and seem to catch the wind
Bareback we ride into the storm
Dancing freely
The scent of thunder
Fills us
Erases us as we
Falling into and through the whoosh
Nothing makes sense
And I love it
In a way that makes perfect sense
Still wind
Kisses my heart
I find no one kissed
No one kissing
And no one looking...
Ahhhhhhhhh
This Sonorous lushness of seamlesss ease
This land, empty of even shadows
Is not the source of such brilliance
They are they separate
Neither are they one
Love wrote it’s song in my heart the day I realized it was not mine
To find or lose
Or set loose upon the world
My pockets are empty
Of even emptiness
They cannot be filled
They were ripped inside out long ago
I am the tears of the many and the few
How wondrous to feel so deeply!
My face is etched with rivulets for our flowing wetness
Sky and sea ricocheting
Refracting infinite shades of blue
She longed for the wet of wetness
The taste of taste
The love in love
She was a dream of love until she spied a reflection of herself through a sideways glance in the storefront glass
Crashing through infinite shards of emptiness
She was left with only her reflection
Nothing on either side of the mirror
Her eyes only shone in reflected light
The magic she longed for...
was the longing
You come to me with your methods and practices you believe will lead to a peaceful mind.
I say the quiescence of which I sing has nothing to do with if there are thoughts or not.
I do not see you as the instigator of thought feeling belief or action.
I feel your longing for this silence, this hush, that you believe your practice will give you.
You are this longing
And the hush
You cannot find it
Or create it anew.
All these teachers and teachings imply that they have something you do not.
That somehow you are flawed.
I do not see you as broken.
They imply that there is a destination and perpetuate the painful belief in other better more and next.
All there is is this edgeless sweeping momentary, you know that...
I see you as unspeakably beautiful no matter what you seem to believe or think.
And I weep that you cannot see this
No one can see their own beauty.
Come closer that we may bask in the beauty of each other’s reflections... this imaginary space in-between us, the only place we exist.
My world is not mine...
I cannot find any things to own
And no owner
Nothing solid or fixed
I can only find my feet when I’m dancing with another
Gazing into their beautiful beautiful eyes I catch a glimpse of my own beauty
There is a wondrous ache
Joy sorrow love longing
Flowing along inseparable from the edgeless symphony of perception.
There is nothing caught in this flowing
The net is simply words and concepts
This rich lush tapestry of perception weaving and unweaving itself, attention flows and rests, flows and rests. Only a tiny pinhole is ever noticed. Most is not noticed, especially the obvious non-fixed, impermanent, edgeless-ness of it.
Sometimes you hear your blood rushing through your ears. Sometimes you notice the yellow finches on the feeder, sometimes the steam from your tea, or the warmth sliding into your tummy. Sometimes the sound of the clock, ticking. Sometimes there is thought of yesterday or that time you last saw your mother. Sometimes there is thought of the coming day, or planning a trip to the mountains when the snow melts. Mostly you walk without noticing where your feet are placed. You may eat or drink without actually noticing. This all encompassing fluidity of perception is never separate from the aware-ing of it.
Thought seems to capture a part of this flowing, every word seems to throw a lasso around a bit of this edgeless symphony. Yet ‘seems’ is the key word.
Everyone knows deep down that this ever present symphony of perception and its inseparable recognition is all we can know. This ever blooming ever wilting, self creating self releasing momentary is obviously fluid and cannot be captured or indeed ‘known’ in the conventional sense. The ‘known’ world or the worded world is a conceptual virtual world of this and that. All description paints it, even these words you are reading now.
Yet is any ‘thing’ ever caught, or do words seem to create ‘things’?
It’s terrifying to consider that there really are no things, as you are one of these imaginary things. Yet if the essential emptiness of things and self is actually realized, and the blank isn’t filled in with more concepts like true self or pure consciousness or timeless awareness, life is experienced as a seamless flow with no feeling of separation.
The conceptual world continues much as before, the stories continue to write themselves, yet it is never again believed. Yet knowing you and I and love are made up, is not the end of love.
Trying to let go of
Or accept your story
Becomes your story
It’s story
You are story
All the way down
Even down is a story
Even story is story
It’s simply amazing how shared learned words paint the story
All by itself
Just like this, the dream of objectified separation seems to appear!
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