wind songs drift through this infinite sea of love
you arise in love's caress
gently her currents engulf you again
and you are wind
softly falling through waves of light and shadow
lost in the overwhelming brilliance of your own love
pain is a story like the end of pain.... time is a mental construct, there is no beginning nor end nor middle of an event or moment or thought... can you say, as it happens, NOW! is the beginning of a moment or thought, and NOW! is the end of a moment or thought?
there is no thing called pain until named.... without thought there is no one and no pain.
we say our cat is in pain, but there is no cat nor pain without words....
the cat does not know or feel that there is a thing called pain which must be avoided, or indeed without thought the cat does not even know she is...
and that is a story about cats which are not things until named...
anything said about the dream is the dream... every single words seems to create and isolate things, there are no actual things underneath the words....
we assume there is a physical world but it is unknowable without concepts. imaginary things that refer to a physical world are said to be 'real', like bodies, and some imaginary things are utterly imaginary, like selves...
I am an imaginary persona like you.
there is no one or thing under the mask.
somehow we seem to be able to talk to each other across this imaginary distance... this canyon of echoes which seems to sing us into the dance...
but all words are smoke signals in the dark... some seem to resonate, but they are all reflections in the thought stream you call mind.... we are as real as love, and tomorrow... and enlightenment...
I can feel your pain as it is mine... echoes resonate in this chorus of one of two of many of none...
there are no separate voices as we are these shared learned words, and in the sharing of our stories we recognize ourselves... we recognize this unspeakable beauty that we are... and this beauty this love has no center or edge...
we seem to emerge in the sharing of our stories as we truly are each other...
I am a flowing gallery of fluid portraits
we are all unique stories written with the same words....
and I see you as unutterably beautiful, a choice-less hologram, a swirling galaxy of memory thought belief preferences...
and our galaxies can never touch... arms of light reaching out to touch... and light falls through light...
it is all light...
it is all love...
I seem to emerge in the loving of you... and that is wondrous beyond measure.... this dream of infinite love dreaming itself....
enlightenment happens utterly spontaneously, just like life.... if it feels like there is a someone in the center of the swirling thought dream of separate things and events, then it does...
and if it does not then that is what life feels like...
there is no correct way to live or love or die...
the story writes itself
just like this
love calls your name and you cannot ignore her song
as it is she who sings you
dances you
into the dream of joy and sorrow
she washes through you
tides of emptiness and fullness burst through you
as you are the ocean
and her song
it may seem like you have lost love
and grieve for her song
but that is love
singing silence into the waves
breaking the night into a rhythm that cannot be captured
but soothes the darkness
with an unfathomable light
never seen
never not seen
one morning there was a someone who awoke with a head on her pillow
who recognized her reflection in the mirror
she fell through the glass
and her world exploded
shards of light pierced her
viscously ripped her skin her flesh her heart
drained her blood
burned her bones
erased even the wind after her ashes blew away
an image of a woman a girl a songster seems to walk by a mirror, but there is no one to recognize, it is all a flowing light fabric weaving and unweaving itself...
wind sighs her empty breath and it is beauty singing
this is love singing
my song
your song
our song
there is no song
there is no singer
there is no love
you want me to tell you that all is love
that you are love
but what is love?
all we can know is this flowing description
this thought stream
all words refer to other words
all thought is circular
it may seem that there is a someone or thing in the center
what is a center
what is a feeling
what is thought
without thought?
no one knows what is going on
there is no one separate from this thought dream painting you and me into this dance of light and dark and space and time
and it feels like love to me
thought really has no meaning nor non meaning
meaning is thought
these songs are simply thought dreams seemingly caught on a screen or page
all is erased the moment it appears
hello
goodbye
hello
I love you
And yet this peace that cannot be understood or expressed gives the imaginary character a life utterly sublime
It is like you become the eyes of love
I would say that if it could be given away I would
But there is no one who has it and no one to give it to
This is an unutterably wondrous life and anyone who poo poos it
Well
Don’t think they have had this shift
Just this obviously magnificent wondrous aliveness continuously bursting without edges or time
spontaneously all by itself
always new always unfettered
whatever it looks or feels like
of course, I would never want someone to feel the utter pain that preceded it!
The end of hope and fear and need of a never arising next
The end of worry...
the end of love as we knew it
The loss of all and everything
Yet it feels like love ...
I cannot give you anything or nothing... no one has this sublime emptiness... your questions are like asking "why red?" they are beyond meaningless... all is without meaning or non meaning... there is no next there is nothing other than this, there is no this... nor that... there is nothing more than this... nothing can be added to it... where would it come from? nothing can be taken away.... where would it go? is there an edge or outside to what seems to appear? if it feels like there is, well then that feeling is what is going on! there is no next you know that...
self is the assumption that if there is thought there is a thinker
the knowing that this is not the case is not logical is it?
you are the longing for meaning and clarity, and there is none
it’s like you are the looking for purple unicorns 🦄 on the moon!
there are none, and there is no one looking
how can that be so?
It FEELS like there is a someone and a something to get
...some time in the future
ever found a future?
...bet not
but there is a belief in next yes? it FEELS like there is one...
what would you be without this belief?
what would you be without this longing for an elusive goal called enlightenment?
what is enlightenment?
other than what you’ve read...
what is energy
What is a flower
all you seem to be able to do is give me more description.
what is it?
what’s looking who’s speaking
what is the color red?
all questions assume there is an answer
what if the questions all lead in circles
in circles
in circles...
what I sing of has no logic
enlightenment doesn’t make sense!
looking for something, when all you know about it are words from others is like looking for something that someone has described in another language….
before the shift I had no idea what I was looking for
I never would have said enlightenment!
I didn’t even call this that when it happened!
I called this 'the big wow'
and 'falling into indivisibility'
my ideas about enlightenment were that it was something that happened to a person after years of meditation. it seems like it would be impossibly difficult! it would be a life of talking in a hushed voice and wearing white clothes…
I hate white clothes!
I hate soft voices
I like to wear rainbows and sing!
I would have longed for this if I knew what it was!
the imaginary character does not go away... it never was... nor was there love or beauty or mountains... the passion play continues to sing itself and it somehow becomes super saturated in wonder…
seamless beauty infused with love...
your heart is pierced, your blood your nakedness is drained into a vast ocean of tears where rainbows bloom and dissolve into their own colors...
we arise in this touch-less touch...
light falling through light...
love falling through love...
liquid reflections soaring through an ocean of love
you are thought but no one has it
thought seems to create things like thought and a you... thought writes a story about how thought occurs...
the idea that there is a story is a story, a thought dream...
all explanations are simply attempts to describe... and all words paint the dream of separation... even these...
you want me to tell you what you are? how could one imaginary character possibly capture the thought from which it is made and thrust in in the thought stream of another?
you want me to tell you that you are real, when real and false and truth are simply thought... you want me to tell you that you are love... or awareness... or consciousness... when these are merely more ideas... ideas are ideas... where will the thought stream find solidity when solidity is a thought?
I am a girl a woman a songster, yet I am nothing at all...
peering desperately in a mirror trying to find beauty and love I crashed through it... the reflection had no image....
the shards that pierced and eviscerated me were all beliefs about love and beauty... about what I was and what I was not... about what the world was like and what it was not... all ideas of what I should be.... or could be... or not....
all illusion of time and place was seen through... all ideas of any separation at all were seen through... by no one....
this is beauty that has swallowed all ideas of beauty and ugliness...
this is love that has swallowed all ideas of love and hate... this is a circular rainbow spinning itself into infinite colors... and dissolving into its own loveliness...
numberless facets of light without light... turning tumbling twisting flowing through space without space... without time or dimension or movement... without any solidity or non movement...
I am a dream of love and emptiness falling in love with itself ...there is no one or thing at the center... these is no center...
there is no emptiness
there is no love
I could feel that echo of emptiness
an underground river plunging through an unfathomable darkness I feared
it was my heart
beating
it was my blood
streaming
love flowing rushing through love
unsigned
un-owned
placeless
spaceless
that devastating utter emptiness was me
it swallowed all and everything
day and night
sound and silence
all was erased by its own reflection
the last echo across the canyon was mine
the walls collapsed
the ground collapsed
love's silence left no one to wonder who or where or when or why
all division
all measurement
all distinction
was imaginary
and there was nothing to divide....
yet the magical dream of love continues
no longer believed...
it feels even more magical!
and in greeting you I fall in love
deeply
in the meeting of our eyes I recognize an overwhelming beauty
that has no opposite
an infinite love
that has swallowed all ideas of love
it is in the sharing of beauty
of our tender humanness
that is love
together we are rays of sparkling
a kaleidoscopic dream
spinning a magician's tale
of infinite wonder
infinite beauty
infinte love
and what is wonder
what is beauty
what is love?
no one knows
who could possibly step outside the dream that we are
and capture it
light pours through light
darkness falls through its own shadow
light and dark are erased
the illusion of two
of one
of many
of none
is
illusion...
illusion is illusion
love falls through love
and not even love remains
knowing and feeling this
is love
crystalline light of utter darkness sears your weary eyes
melts inside into out
outside into in
your were never the eyes of fear
you have always been the eyes of love
she pierced you with your own heart magic
so that you could see that light
and love
have no source other than this imaginary dance
of shine and shadow
of love and love lost
we are infinite rays of reflected light
shards of infinite emptiness
a ballet of nothing and everything
of never and forever
mirror of wind on an empty beach
sweeps across the plains
echos in the mountains and valleys
rushes down the canyon
settles in the desert dust
a mirage
an enchainment
a song
tells the tale of a lonely wanderer looking for her own reflection
but the mirage holds nothing
gives nothing
everyone's heart sings in these waters
without surface
or depth
or any substance at all
love is the moon and her song
and fistfuls of sunlight in your eyes
sensuous liquidity of light soaring through light
an echo of feathers drifts across your tears
bathing you in ocean song
super saturated as wetness itself
there is nothing other than loves kiss
falling through her own lips
your lips
our lips
your kiss
our kiss
your light
our light
your love
our love
arises in this pirouette of wonder
this ballet of infinite kisses
Is where we dance
the wetness of love’s kiss
Is this utterly Intimate immediacy, self arising and self erasing,
where time and space drown and slide into the back beat of wonder
all words of love slide through these pages as they dissolve into paper wings
unfolding into this searing light
that burns all and everything into a story of emptiness falling through its absence....
love’s fire kisses you back
into winged day dreams
soaring through love’s burning echo
and the ocean song you never left
I heard my voice in the wind
but could not find the words
where is the end of wind
when it has no beginning?
under the roses
there are tiny blue bits of broken shells
has the sky fallen
or the earth risen?
where are the wings that sailed across the morning
where are the tears that consumed the night?
time slid down the rainbow and was catapulted into its reflection
it was just a hologram
dancing through itself
in an imaginary thing called space
the golden treasure was never hidden
nor found
it is all gold, a fairytale of wonder
the story sings itself
and that is a story
no hands can grasp what is not a what
when there are no hands
nor footsteps on an empty beach
when all is sand
through your breath love slides into its own echo
and you find yourself singing the universal sigh
just like this there is no answer
nor anyone to look for it or find it
love seems to slide into itself
boundless sparkling radiance abounds
all thought is empty
all is thought
emptiness is thought
thought is thought
spinning ideas into infinity
inward and outward there is nothing to find
the line between them is as thick as thought
we call it sky but it is empty
we call it space but it is empty
we call it yesterday but it is empty
we call it tomorrow but it is empty
we call it now but it is empty
we call it the ground but it is empty
we say it is us but we are empty
we call this truth but it is empty
we call this love but love is empty
we call this emptiness but it is empty
I am caressed into being by the sigh of lunar winds soaring through meadows of wonder
...they skim the surface of this morning song leaving ripples to catch my reflection as it fades into sky
falling
into words into letters dissipating into lines and squiggles and a vast all encompassing emptiness that has never held a thing
no one wants to hear that this life just as it seems to appear feels, well ...utterly perfect
Delicate flowers blooming... fading... new leaves unfolding and ripped off their branches ...falling into the muddy gutter with blood and tears and rotting flesh ... eons of memories of all who have ever lived and loved and lost love...
the dream feels somewhat surreal, and yet realer than real!
Vibrant and alive and busting into bloom and simultaneously wilting, without any time for the scent to linger... on our hands in our hearts or in the deep deep places we used to image were ours... it feels like love falling in love with itself....
I never say a thing to my imaginary lovers... I feel their pain deeply... this unspeakably wondrous dream dreaming itself... I weep
It is not sorrow nor joy nor love in the way I would have thought of it before... it is love in the deepest sense when reason has left the ballroom... beyond all ideas of beyond where thought has twirled into and through and around itself into a spiraling galaxy of wonder... a pirouette of light ...of love ...of nothing at all...
we are imaginary dancers swooning into and through each other ...for it is these very words that define us that keep us apart...
we exist only in the touching... and although I long to hold you I know we can never touch... and it is sad and beautiful and everything in between.....
elegant sweep of wind
forms the inline of your face
softy softly thought paints this dream of you and me and love
colors flow into colors through the kaleidoscope of thought
the brushstrokes of your life are painted with disappearing ink
with water
in water
oceans of thought flow in this river where we bloom and
dissolve
this is a watercolor dreamscape of space
and time where a dream dancer in a passion play
seems to spins along a path from birth to death
the ends cannot be seen...
sometimes it feels gentle
other times it is not so soft
but all the edges are imaginary
although the cuts feel deep
they are as deep as thought
and the caresses sweet
as sweet as thought
where is the taste of taste
it is in the taste itself
where is the love in love
it is the love itself
all thought spins the dream
you are the dream
you are thought
thought is thought
we are this nakedness that no one wears... these naked tears and smiles... this naked love pouring through an imaginary membrane in between an imaginary inside and out...
this tender delicate butterfly kiss of light in light... of space in space... of emptiness in emptiness...
this dream of love where lovers twirl and can never touch.... and the ache to merge to dissolve into each other, to dissolve into love...
when the lines are no longer felt, made up boundaries dissolve... and we find we are each other... as there is no one here, or there... there is no here or there... or in between....
dissolving into you I dissolve into myself and we disappear into the flowing....
this is the utter nakedness of this love that has no words... it is unknowable, un-captureable, but can be felt deeply inseparable from all that seems to appear in this dream of you and me and we...
this is the love that sweeps away all shadow and light and yet dances in both worlds... the world of things and the deep recognition that there are none... worlds painted with words...
these words that can feel like there is a knowing of them... but are simply the wind rustling through the trees.... the hush before morning... tires on the distant road.... the slow dawn chasing darkness under the bushes .....and the adornment of the empty bird feeders.... waiting....
all of life sings this song but it cannot be understood... there is no one separate to hear it... it is your heart beating... your breath... your eyes scanning this page.... my fingers sliding across the keyboard....
I am the longing to touch you with this song... and the knowing we can never touch... for as we do... we disappear...
like this
This is the end of all ideas of what perfection and love are
It always feels like perfect love
and you know life is magical and precious... you have since you were very small and wept when you saw a dead bird in the garden, and wept when you heard a song about love lost... and loved loving the song that made you weep... this feeling that the magic could be lost... that life would end... that the song would be over.... and tears felt beautiful... and precious... and tears shared... oh my! how my brother and I wept singing these songs about getting old and losing love even when I was eight years old...
how beautiful the song that you are... that sings you... sings me... sings of love and love lost so sweetly... songs are only words... thoughts... seemingly strung together into a necklace of ideas.... with a someone wearing these iridescent gems....
thought seems to tell a story of a little girl singing and weeping with her brother... and a woman weeping while remembering him... how he loved me and I loved him... how we would sing all night a song that looped back into the beginning... our last conversation on the phone... how they found his body in the park, sitting under a tree, the morning sprinklers anointing him... what happens when there is no one alive who remembers you as a child? was there a child? is there a woman?
we are flowing memories... liquid stories that seem to flow.... to dance into a person with memory....
does this knowing that all separation is made up diminish the dream... does it erase love? it seems to make it more bittersweet... more precious, more alive... more resplendent...
the self is known to be a most precious gem... a center less jewel of reflections.... and tears are love's magnificent echo...
they pour through the empty places you used to fear and erase all hope and fear... there is no need of a never arising next... as time has exploded into this divine edgeless-ness...
utter gobsmacking wondrousness abounds....
and is there a me here to love you
when there is no here nor there?
no center can be found
there is no one to look
yet in the meeting of our eyes
there is a melting into you
a lover's dance
a waltz of shine and shadows
melting into a lullaby
a song of all who have ever loved and lost love
we are reflections spinning
and I am dizzy
intoxicated with your beauty
our beauty
in love with your humanness
our humanness...
in love with love itself
through you I hear my own echo across the grand canyon
the great divide we can never cross
through you
I hear my song
our song
love's song
and I weep
love erases all lines between heaven and hell
she burns all the lines around you
and all the walls around her
she is consumed by her own fire
endless ocean endless skies
there is no wordless state
before words appear
before is a word
it cannot be found
nor can after
nor can a now
where is the space between sound and silence
when silence is a word
when sound is a word
when space is a word
when word is a word
you are the seeking you cannot stop...
you are the thought stream you cannot escape it...
...escape is an idea... like every single word written... or sung... or thought...
this dream dreams itself... and trying to awaken is like trying to pull the planets into alignment with an idea you have about enlightenment... trying to push or pull the seas into an idea about the perfect ocean....
where did you get these ideas? they were learned... like all these words your brain learned, long long ago, when you were just beginning to form into an imaginary boy or girl.... racing around asking what, who, where, ....why?
all this knowledge forms the imaginary world of things and time and space.... what would you be without these ideas, these words, this 'knowing?
you insist on quoting ancient texts... if they are old they must be true! SOMEONE MUST KNOW WHAT IS GOING ON! and you will not settle until you find that perfection you have read about.... that knowing you have read about.... that enlightenment you have read about....
but....enlightenment is about not knowing.... it does not make sense, that what you long for does not exist... nor that you do not exist...
you seem to want a life without a self, but that is impossible, you cannot exist as a non self! you exist only as a human being, and life as a human being is full of great joy and great sorrow, deep grief, love and losing love...
there is no other, better, more or next.... and it is the looking for an imaginary goal that seems to pull you to push you, it is you.
you say, 'but somewhere, just over the horizon'....
.... well the horizon is an imaginary line that you can never cross... like awakening, the very seeking for it pushes it further away... like trying to catch all the ripples in a pond with your hand, it simply makes more ripples...
and I cannot soothe you or stop your seeking although I would love to hug you and tell you it is utterly ok, that you are perfect just as you think you are, and I love you (because I do)
this is a very rare shift in perspective that seems to occur in the brain. the very brain that fabricates you... and trees and wind and mountains and vast oceans where the sun slides over the horizon into a place you cannot see....
will it come back? we assume the next day will come... but you never know... you cannot know if you will be there to greet the day....
and I have almost finished my eighth book about this and I have not even begun to touch it, to kiss it with words... as every word seems to create things, and there are none...
how could there be no things, you may insist!
how can I know that, you want to know!
well, you cannot know, you can never know anything or nothing... as knowing is an idea, an assumption like you...
and we can talk in this circular fashion for decades, and I will dance with you spin with you and love you but I can never give you this for I do not have it... no one does...
beauty almost seen
is beautiful
I am the missing of you
we dance through the light and shadow in this forest of emptiness
between never and forever
between love and nothing at all
an echo of love
can burn your heart
the sweetness of beauty missed
can softly
fill it
and overflow into love's beautiful reflection
that we are
but can never see
as we are it
what is this emptiness in your chest
it is the echo of infinity lost
the breath of aloneness
the sigh of love
sliding through its own beauty
hovering on the cliff of madness
falling
falling
falling
through the dream of mirrors
where all reflections vanish
and there is no end
nor beginning
to this song of emptiness
no before
nor after
to love
love so vast it is utterly empty
so intimate it overflows
painting the dream with infinite shades of wonder
caressing your tender beauty
embracing a heart that was always empty
there was never anywhere to hide
no one to hide
no love to hide
it is everywhere and no where
not yours or mine
but seems to arise in the sharing of stories
as do we
we are echoes of love
reverberating across the great divide
the words that define us
split us apart
and we are
hovering
in between
the in between
is it your heartbeat
or mine
beauty almost seen
is beautiful
I am the missing of you
we dance through the light and shadow in this forest of emptiness
between never and forever
between love and nothing at all
an echo of love
can burn your heart
the sweetness of beauty missed
can softly
fill it
and overflow into love's beautiful reflection
that we are
but can never see
as we are it
this tapestry this flying magical carpet of dreams, this fabric of words is us ...weaving and unweaving itself... writing itself with disappearing ink... leaving trails of memory that seem to form a silhouette of sound... but it is only a photograph of wind falling through itself...
wind slides through its own echo and tastes its own breath... through these words through this song through these lips this mouth this heart that cannot hold the consonants or vowels that seem to form their own roundness as they roll off your tongue roll off the mirror
...losing their reflection they have no more or less meaning than the treetops dancing in the wind... such elegant beauty!
and that we know that it is beautiful and we can somehow share this beauty... this is beauty itself!
and that we can share this love song... our wondrous humanness.... and feel deeply each others stories... our stories were never ours... they are entwined into an unutterably wondrous love song that has no beginning or end... raveling and un-raveling itself... like this...
it is in the sharing of our songs, joy, sorrow, this broken hearted beauty... that is love itself...
this song of aliveness that we are pours through its own words and leaves us breathless awe struck weeping laughing dancing in each others love light ... we are each others reflections each others stories and we are woven into this sailing soaring carpet of tattered wind that seems to have an echo a song a chorus of liquid mirrors aching to touch to dance to fall into each others softness...
we are this utter nakedness flying wingless featherless skinless through the clouds the sky this infinite spaciousness without space...
we are each others echo... sailing through this dream that feels like love unbound unfettered un-graspable un-knowable caressing itself into being with these very words...
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