What is going on is magnificently wondrously unknowable
It has no qualities or characteristics whatsoever
It is shared learned words which create a conceptual mentally fabricated world of separate things and events and time...
And this imaginary “known” world is not separate from the unknown because the ideas of “known” and “unknown” are also made up.
I could say that what is going on is fluid and ungraspable but actually it is neither moving nor nonmoving. As it has no dimension and it is not dimension less.
Has no time nor non time...
It has no things nor non-things...
It is not one big thing like wholeness or emptiness...
It has no space nor emptiness...
And it is not even an it.
This is it
And not even that....
When the story is no longer believed, that is also the story...
And the story takes on a somewhat surreal feeling... yet simultaneously real-er than real more vibrant more alive....
it’s as if the most delicious dream of unknowing has subsumed the dream of knowing...
It’s like an all encompassing love.
threads of sky unravel the dark
illuminate elegant traceries
of my tea's curling steam
dawn erases my reflection in the window
the mirror dissolves into endless echoes
hovering on my tongue
sliding into ribbons of words
unravelling the dark
rivers of song bloom into light
silence dissolves into a word
all words are empty
emptiness is a word
shadows fall into their own darkness
light blooms into its own brilliance
night time dream falls into the day time dream
water sprinklers on the neighbors lawn
a deer wanders down the street
first cars
long long headlights
golden finches begin their song
breath of morning
flows down the canyon
never held
never gathered
clouds unfurl light
they never possessed
hearts unfurl love
as life flows through us
that ache was never yours
to hold
or give away
it is all our hearts
beating
you can hear the chorus
of one
of two
of many
of none
luminous hush
of no tomorrow
sings the morning
into day
there are no voices
singing
voices appear
only in the words
vast unfathomable oceans
reflecting endless skies
catch your breath
still your heart
with a delicious unknowing
the pause you long to continue
is always on
it cannot be pushed or pulled or held onto
there are no hands
that can hold the day
or let go
of the morning
echoes dance across the waters
it is your own voice you hear
there was never anyone
standing on the beaches of time
waiting for her perfect lover
to tame the winds
and sail into her heart
and erase the footprints of sorrow
winds erase themselves
untangle the dream of love
into threads of brilliant reflections
billowing and receding with every breath
your heart was not meant to hold love
as the shadows melt into their own darkness
pure spacious light consumes the dream of hope and fear
as your timeline plunges into the abyss
the vast vast emptiness you feared
has become you
the terror of impermanence
fell with the end of all tomorrows
memories are beautiful stories
sparkling shimmering
tears
inseparable from sea
have no name nor number
there are no drops in the ocean
nor wetness
sands flow through sands
all lines are made of sand
all is luminous transparency
of shadow-less light
layers of thought
flowing under over and through itself
painting this wonderland of love
wing-ed waves of joy and sorrow sail through endless sky
bouquet of life opens
and wilts
unbearable tenderness of love and love lost
no one wears this broken hearted beauty
no one weeps in utter amazement
or dances on the edge of sky
Wing-ed waves of joy and sorrow sail through endless sky
Bouquet of life opens
And wilts
Unbearable tenderness of love and love lost
No one wears this broken hearted beauty
No one weeps in utter amazement
Or dances on the edge of sky
Self is the sense and feeling of separation
The sense of lack,
The urge to feel whole.
To discover this edgeless wholeness that is always on means losing itself ...your very existence
Self is the belief and feeling of separation
The sense of lack,
And the urge to feel whole.
To discover this edgeless wholeness that is always on
means losing itself
…your very existence
there is no thing that you are or are not
the dream paints itself with these very words, every word seems to create distinct 'things', brain body cells awareness are all words. there are no actual things,,,, but we assume the physical world exists, yet it has no time dimension causality no direction no edge no measurement without words
everything said about the dream ... all this fleeting description ...even these very words paint the dream
believing in the dream
is the dream
not believing in the dream
is the dream
anything said about the dream
paints the dream
there is no escape from the dream that you are, that this is, this mentally fabricated world
however it may occur that the brain no longer believes the dream and this edgeless seamlessness is felt always...
enlightenment has nothing to do with you
you may be worried that if there is no one doing life it will end
Well
There never has been anyone doing life
slowly slowly
wings of fire
breathe the desert landscape
in
...out
tongues of flame nuzzle your ears
your cheeks
your mouth...
love plunges its fiery magic into your heart
pierces its very own heartbeat
liquifies the dream of this and that
and love
love burns you beyond recognition
the mirror lied
there was never anyone there
or anyone looking
your world aflame
skin and bones melt
there is no sky
nor ground
your voice your tears ricochet into the barren night
echo in the starless vastness
there are no words
no vowels
nor consonants
no love letters to send or receive
no sound or silence
in this edgeless emptiness
just a dream of timeless wonder
never here
never not here
no one awakens to this new dawn
this ever present kiss
winds sweep across the morning
golden finches greet the day
circling the feeders
splashing in the ponds
the neighbor's dog cries out
children rush to the swings
laughing
clouds circle the mountains
weeping
nothing is hidden
nothing is revealed
there are no things
nor time
no one walks in this world of wonder
or weeps at the beauty that was always here
the story seemingly continues but it is no longer believed... and its all story!
even not believing in the story is the story!
bodies and selves and awareness and consciousness are made up ... seemingly created by these very words...
golden finches singing at the feeder is a story,
like I am listening to and watching the golden finches...
she waited beneath the shadows
under the memory of autumn
winter winds came and left
leaves turned into soil
she was swallowed by earth song
and the blossoming night sky
in the dark
soft breath of moon
hovered
like the dream of yesterday
the promise of tomorrow burned itself
seared by love's unutterable light
the stone in her heart melted
dark and light fell through each other
no one was lost
or found
in this dance of echoes
it is all reflections of reflections
this wind ballet of light and shadow
falling gently through these lines
this unwritten tale
of love
that sings itself
like this
love is not a burden
no one carries it or holds it
it is not a thing
it is the end of all things
and anyone to hold them
what do you long for and fear?
it is in every breath
every heartbeat
every heart ache
saturating all and everything
no words can say it
but all words contain it
as it has no edges
it is not an it
as it has no qualities
it contains all qualities
it is not emptiness
nor fullness
neither both
nor neither
it is not here
there is no here
it is not there
there is no there
nor everywhere
nor no where
there is no distance between you and it
that is why you cannot find it
it is every touch smell sound taste and thought
it is not before
there is no before
it is not after
there is no after
it is not now
there is no now
it is neither never or forever
beyond time and timelessness
this is it
and not even that...
illuminate elegant traceries
of my tea's curling steam
dawn erases my reflection in the window
the mirror dissolves into endless echoes
hovering on my tongue
sliding into ribbons of words
unravelling the dark
rivers of song bloom into light
silence dissolves into a word
all words are empty
emptiness is a word
shadows fall into their own darkness
light blooms into its own brilliance
night time dream falls into the day time dream
water sprinklers on the neighbors lawn
a deer wanders down the street
first cars
long long headlights
golden finches begin their song
breath of morning
flows down the canyon
never held
never gathered
clouds unfurl light
they never possessed
hearts unfurl love
as life flows through us
that ache was never yours
to hold
or give away
it is all our hearts
beating
you can hear the chorus
of one
of two
of many
of none
luminous hush
of no tomorrow
sings the morning
into day
there are no voices
singing
voices appear
only in the words
vast unfathomable oceans
reflecting endless skies
catch your breath
still your heart
with a delicious unknowing
the pause you long to continue
is always on
it cannot be pushed or pulled or held onto
there are no hands
that can hold the day
or let go
of the morning
echoes dance across the waters
it is your own voice you hear
there was never anyone
standing on the beaches of time
waiting for her perfect lover
to tame the winds
and sail into her heart
and erase the footprints of sorrow
winds erase themselves
untangle the dream of love
into threads of brilliant reflections
billowing and receding with every breath
your heart was not meant to hold love
as the shadows melt into their own darkness
pure spacious light consumes the dream of hope and fear
as your timeline plunges into the abyss
the vast vast emptiness you feared
has become you
the terror of impermanence
fell with the end of all tomorrows
memories are beautiful stories
sparkling shimmering
tears
inseparable from sea
have no name nor number
there are no drops in the ocean
nor wetness
sands flow through sands
all lines are made of sand
all is luminous transparency
of shadow-less light
layers of thought
flowing under over and through itself
painting this wonderland of love
wing-ed waves of joy and sorrow sail through endless sky
bouquet of life opens
and wilts
unbearable tenderness of love and love lost
no one wears this broken hearted beauty
no one weeps in utter amazement
or dances on the edge of sky
Wing-ed waves of joy and sorrow sail through endless sky
Bouquet of life opens
And wilts
Unbearable tenderness of love and love lost
No one wears this broken hearted beauty
No one weeps in utter amazement
Or dances on the edge of sky
Self is the sense and feeling of separation
The sense of lack,
The urge to feel whole.
To discover this edgeless wholeness that is always on means losing itself ...your very existence
Self is the belief and feeling of separation
The sense of lack,
And the urge to feel whole.
To discover this edgeless wholeness that is always on
means losing itself
…your very existence
there is no thing that you are or are not
the dream paints itself with these very words, every word seems to create distinct 'things', brain body cells awareness are all words. there are no actual things,,,, but we assume the physical world exists, yet it has no time dimension causality no direction no edge no measurement without words
everything said about the dream ... all this fleeting description ...even these very words paint the dream
believing in the dream
is the dream
not believing in the dream
is the dream
anything said about the dream
paints the dream
there is no escape from the dream that you are, that this is, this mentally fabricated world
however it may occur that the brain no longer believes the dream and this edgeless seamlessness is felt always...
enlightenment has nothing to do with you
you may be worried that if there is no one doing life it will end
Well
There never has been anyone doing life
slowly slowly
wings of fire
breathe the desert landscape
in
...out
tongues of flame nuzzle your ears
your cheeks
your mouth...
love plunges its fiery magic into your heart
pierces its very own heartbeat
liquifies the dream of this and that
and love
love burns you beyond recognition
the mirror lied
there was never anyone there
or anyone looking
your world aflame
skin and bones melt
there is no sky
nor ground
your voice your tears ricochet into the barren night
echo in the starless vastness
there are no words
no vowels
nor consonants
no love letters to send or receive
no sound or silence
in this edgeless emptiness
just a dream of timeless wonder
never here
never not here
no one awakens to this new dawn
this ever present kiss
winds sweep across the morning
golden finches greet the day
circling the feeders
splashing in the ponds
the neighbor's dog cries out
children rush to the swings
laughing
clouds circle the mountains
weeping
nothing is hidden
nothing is revealed
there are no things
nor time
no one walks in this world of wonder
or weeps at the beauty that was always here
the story seemingly continues but it is no longer believed... and its all story!
even not believing in the story is the story!
bodies and selves and awareness and consciousness are made up ... seemingly created by these very words...
golden finches singing at the feeder is a story,
like I am listening to and watching the golden finches...
she waited beneath the shadows
under the memory of autumn
winter winds came and left
leaves turned into soil
she was swallowed by earth song
and the blossoming night sky
in the dark
soft breath of moon
hovered
like the dream of yesterday
the promise of tomorrow burned itself
seared by love's unutterable light
the stone in her heart melted
dark and light fell through each other
no one was lost
or found
in this dance of echoes
it is all reflections of reflections
this wind ballet of light and shadow
falling gently through these lines
this unwritten tale
of love
that sings itself
like this
love is not a burden
no one carries it or holds it
it is not a thing
it is the end of all things
and anyone to hold them
what do you long for and fear?
it is in every breath
every heartbeat
every heart ache
saturating all and everything
no words can say it
but all words contain it
as it has no edges
it is not an it
as it has no qualities
it contains all qualities
it is not emptiness
nor fullness
neither both
nor neither
it is not here
there is no here
it is not there
there is no there
nor everywhere
nor no where
there is no distance between you and it
that is why you cannot find it
it is every touch smell sound taste and thought
it is not before
there is no before
it is not after
there is no after
it is not now
there is no now
it is neither never or forever
beyond time and timelessness
this is it
and not even that...
There is not anything that you are
There is not anything that you are not
There is no you to be everything
Nor you to be nothing
There is not one big thing like god or awareness or wholeness or emptiness that you are a part of or can merge with
There are no things or non things whatsoever
rapt in hope and fear
hidden from your nakedness
and your tears
silken clothes of morning
dissolve in the summer sun
what is it that binds you
but the fear of freedom?
what is it that defines you
but the longing to escape your skin?
what is it that hides the love you long for
but the longing for it?
what is underneath these tears
this nakedness
this hope and fear...
what is under all these ideas of love?
there is not even nothing that wears this skin
who has this longing for love
not even love
wears the cloak of love
“There is no next”
she whispered
There is no nothing
There is no everything
There is only this
And not even that
A ballet of wind in wind
Swirls around an empty center
There is no wind
No center
No emptiness
you know this, you feel this, but it is intuited knowing... ungraspable...
the seeker is the longing for certitude...
the longing for other better more and next...
and there is none
but... you know that!
it is the grasping which seems to create something to grasp and a someone who is reaching...
we have many names for that which we seek... for many it is love or wholeness... but it is really the desire to end desire... to fill that sense of lack... but that emptiness you feel is real... your heart will never be filled... but it may explode...
this is longed for and feared...
I had no idea what I was looking for...
I had heard of no self but that does not make sense until it is recognized... so there was never a looking for that...
or for enlightenment for that matter...
it was a vague sense of peace ... of a feeling of all rightness, of ok-ness..
in the end I was looking to grok the sameness of inside and outside... I had never heard there were no things! lol! what a surprise!
not many teachers sing of no thing ness.. usually it is just no self... and it is rare to find someone who sings of this... it took me over a year and a half to find someone who knew this.
we become the dream of knowing this is the dream... and that this objectified dream of separation is well.... achingly wondrous...
it is like dancing on the edge of a feather between love and nothing at all...
thread of morning unties the dark
secret mountain chasms breathe
nothing was hidden
nothing was revealed
silence is embraced in its own hum
you can hear love singing
ripples waltzing underwater
flowing without movement
still
without pausing
where did the night go?
where are the lovers in your dream?
where is the dance floor you slid across
and crashed through
when all hope was gone?
where is the love you longed for?
where does tomorrow lay
hidden among your dreams?
under the bushes
a tiger waits
it is your own love
that rips you apart
consumes all ideas of love
every word uttered
cannot hold life
there are no hands or hearts
that are empty
and can be filled
Transparency slides through transparency
Dimensionless
Space-less
Pirouette of light dissolves into its own spinning
Liquid ballet of sky in sky
No comments:
Post a Comment