mistake?

What would I be if I could not believe a mistake is possible?

and the whole world came crashing down
and fell at her feet,
literally

there was no more mortar
or bricks
between herself and the world

there were no more hammers
in the sky
just waiting to fall
on her head

oh joy to the world,
"she" was no more...only Love
so VAST

i simply consult
a stainmaster...
yes, there ARE such gifts
and ingredients...

He tells me it's nothing at all.
He tells me how.
His magic eraser is waved,
(or scrubbed and blotted and scrubbed and blotted...)
the wall sparkling again.

Of course soup hops out of the pot
with a fire burning under her butt!

of course paint spills on the carpet--
bursts out of the bottle
when opened for the first time in class,
spatters the woman in front of her,
her hair,
her shirt
and pants,
shoots far across the room!

how else would the whole class
bond instantly
with compassion for the paint burster,
the recipient of the paint,
and the teacher,
each offering
to help and clean and support
in whatever way they could?

oh dear Universe,
that pops
and bursts
and splashes out,
how many times must
we witness your effervescence
before we stop calling it
a mistake?

you cannot be attacked

"you cannot be attacked"  (acim)

there IS nothing to fear.

the thought never crossed my mind...

such a blessed assessment
would hurl no stones
at the decrepit feeble claims
of autonomy

no, only laughter
could be hailed

what ant could possibly
be taken seriously when
claiming to own the sky
for himself alone?!@

preposterous,
hilarious,
of course, no fear of harm
from such fantasies

yes, dear lord,
what a fine steed you ride...

thank you,
i'll just go on foot,
oh how very fine
the green grass is
beneath my feet
every step of the way

not once
has there ever been
a shortage of sky,
but why argue
with an ant?

it IS a funny story
he tells...

what would stillness say?

what would Stillness say?

she would smile,
laugh

but what about these
open sores?

surely they are proof
of attack,
of victim,
of something wrong,
of lack

the loveliness of the blood,
so bright red and flowing

the Love is not destroyed,
nor touched

no bullet
can kill Love

war has not killed war,
nor has it killed Love,
so basically it has had
no effect whatsoever
on the real
or the false

Stillness remains
not the body

for the body
never has been
still

what would stillness say?

crash!

nothing to fear
but a thought

the observer remains forever
the observer

nothing ever transpires,
here's a story,
oh here's another,
and another,
like passing cars
on the freeway

the watcher remains still
as they whiz by

what is a crash
but a deadend?
you can't go that way anymore

and in the crash!
the mind is silent for a moment,
no more directions to give,
speechless,
and so the dear dear face of the Heart
comes to the fore
and is Everything

you see clearly
at last
you cannot BE hurt

in every crash of your plan
is Reality revealed
clear as day

Only Love is real
Only Love is real
Only Love will ever
feed you

Love never
for one moment
shifts

With open arms
she welcomes
all fearful thoughts

and who can possibly
hang on to fear in the midst
of Love?

the tiniest spark

imagine joy as the tiniest spark,

it doesn't matter how tiny,
light shares itself,
reflects on everything there is,
makes vision possible

it doesn't matter how small
your generosity seems to be,
your gratitude,
or grace

see how clearly
it is never apart from
everything around it

you've no idea
of the power
of your smile
to light the heart and mind
of everyone in your life

the tiniest spark
the birthplace
of blazing flames,
brightest light,
warmest incineration
of self
(division)

where oh where
is the distance from light...?

no where, dear one,
you are it

yes, imagine joy,
the tiniest spark
and just watch

oh just watch
the flames

Elegance

such Elegance

this Space

of nothing
needs to be done

not one hurried cell,
wholly without pressure

Elegance

Absolute Perfection

beyond all standards,
past configurations,
restraints,
"dead" memories

you cannot fathom
the Unfathomable

you can take someone's Word
and carry it around in your Heart

what would Elegance do?

Elegance allows Herself Everything,
all Space,
All time
is Hers
beyond perfection

Elegance restores
impoverished thoughts

Elegance begs for nothing

Elegance is the table
set before me with the finest
cloth, silver, dishes...

this is no half-hearted
explanation for a lack of integrity

Elegance never for an instant
doubts Her Loveliness

and so it is
She extends
infinitely

here is the one Answer
to every problem...

Elegance,
the dis-solution
to pressure,
constriction,
faulty assumptions,
and all lackluster appearances

Elegance.

joy can never fail

Joy can never fail.

It has global appeal.

There is not one thought

that does not think

joy is its purpose

beCause it is the compass

the underlying resolution

to all things,

they arise out of Joy,

they fall for Joy

to make way

preference is the pain,

how can you prefer

your right hand over your left

when both have been given you

for your joy?

no within

no within
no without

no expiring
no inspiring

thought IS time

reality can't be
experienced through thought

thoughts at best can point...
questioning can invite...

but thought itself
creates within and without

that's all,
all that ever separates
"you" and "i"
is a thought

and thinking can never make it so

Thank You
is the Song
of the Heart

thank you
thank you
thank you

thank you

thank you for the leaves that fall,
the man on the roof,
the buzz of the blower.
what a friendly universe...

isn't it amazing?
the leaves fall and blow and swirl
from the highest branches in the sky,
and he but rises up up up the ladder to the roof
to blow them down down down once again

like a fireman helping a kitty
come gently down from a tree,
here is a man who has the job,
a paid job,
helping leaves fall off roofs,
making sure they make it all the way to the ground...

isn't it amazing?

"Chim chiminy
Chim chiminy
Chim chim cher-ee!
A sweep is as lucky
As lucky can be

Or blow me a kiss,
and that's lucky, too"

cessation

when you feed/listen to
your soul

the baby does quiet down

having found/contacted
the gold mine,
there is no more need to search

not in charge
of the Way of It

the See opens when it does

every time i ask,
"is it true?"
sit in,
"is it true?"
i but invite the See to part,
The Way to be easy and clear

i am not in charge,
i am not in charge

"my" only job,
"me's" only job is to ask:
is it true?

Stop.

Look.

Listen.

Watch

What Happens...

cessation

the baby quiets down,
her tears fall no more

cessation

watching

i don't ask for anything to go away,
or be different

i just don't fall
for the libation

it's promise
of merry making

of a failed system,
a closed circuit

sugar is simply
not a meal

that's all,
that's the realization

no tiny part
can ever be
the whole

with child

are you with child?

then be you praised
for carrying with you
this so precious
innocence

holiness,

perfect clarity
that cannot
be dimmed

no tale can be but as a branch across the moon,
no tail but wags at the happy ending of itself

this innocence,
oh unspeakable innocence
in every word,
beyond every word
without any word

this child you carry,

praise praise
for this child
you carry

humility

in the world,
but not of it

i step back
and find myself
on the ground
next to the humblest of fountains:

i know not one thing,
not one

not even what i am,

the authority costume
lays empty
beside me

what a holy altar
this vast night sky,
this spaceless Space
of i don't know

Thank you

the sweetest woman
in the world
met me at the door today,

"is it true?"
she asked
as each wave
came to the shore,
crashed and fell back into itself,
and 1000 drops sprayed up
into the air

"is it true?"
and the glass fractured
into a million shards,
and fell slow motion
as the sunlight
caught each edge

"is it true?"
and the oxygen
could once more
reach the cells

yes, the sweetest woman,
the Grand Mother
offered
the sweetest question
to each of her children
and each one
fell down
before Her

fun-conomy

fun-conomy
where it's fun
to give

to shine
your light
that you can SEE
the gifts
coming to you
for free

pure grace

the earth,
texture,
the kiss of skin

the reverence
of toes
making love
with warm silky sand

warm sock
in the night

touching the bark

it was made
for you
in this very moment

oh grace
oh grace
oh grace

thank you

nothing
that is not
precious

(Sitting with: Dear Joy, I'm sorry I was so scared.....)

 I understand. 

It simply was. 

We believe what we do...until we don't. 

It's ok to fear. 

How else do you know it's a mistake (perception, belief)? 

the ocean of fear
motors the lifeboat on its way—
speeds the truth to arrive

the shrapnel vanishes
when truth dawns

fear can never change
what you are!

out of your experience
of fear is birthed
your ability to embrace others
in their darkest night
and hold the light

when you fear fear
no more,
your safety is assured,
your step steady
on the path Home

this is what
growing up means,
we are not so easily spooked,
we see it is false images and not reality,
we finally see
there is no need to flinch

can you...

can you imagine
the utter lack
of lack?

dolls spinning on their heels
without your documenting
one cringle,
not afraid of a "curve",
no censoring
of shapes and sounds!

Siberian Huskies
flouncing on the beach
in Miami

are they really refugees?
or immigrants?

or simply
free to walk the world?

honestly,
what insane idea
deems that a body
can only and must
remain stationary?

isn't that a bit lack lustre?

and you call yourself a "leader"?

can you really say that
and hold a straight face?

can you imagine
the utter lack
of "lack"?

no one knows

No one knows
the way of the mother,
the son to be
the breath that moves her wings

no one knows 
the way the wind will blow

feathers do ruffle,
lightening strikes
and thunder storms

no one knows 
the way of the mother,
which hole the earthworm
will emerge from

there WAS no “other” way
it “should have been”;
no plan written
somewhere in an old library

the way this cherub rubbed
was all right

and mother’s song
is still
heard
in the silence of the night

i love

i learn

and there is 
but one
baby

can you love this one?

can you love this one?

loving my children

isaac newton
stirred the pot
of gravity and apples,
pull and pushing,
pedal pushers,
drug pushers,
pushers of strollers
down alleys
of dark graffiti

it's all me

do not pretend
this is another person's mind
you see

how could it be?

your thoughts
are the prodigal son

they ask for
your table--
a sitting with

the dove
brings them
to your doorstep

the dove
carries these words

the paper they are written on
is your heart

they want to come Home,
dear Parent

won't you let your child
have her voice?

do you really need to lock
a two-year-old out of the House?

for you

green pastures
are not external

fertility is receptivity

would you be open
to everything?

then how else could
you conceive
with a full deck?

would you birth
without the entire will
of the universe,
your Heart?

how can exclusion
possibly birth?

receptivity,
where are your doors
closed?
whose knocking
are you not opening
your Heart to?

open fields
do not send away
one drop of rain,
not one tear

are you so open?
the dung is for you...

all of it

the Whole

the whole of the ocean moves you
or you don't move at all,
even the slightest,
is the Whole

it is but the Universe
blinking
peeing
eating

there is no separate "you"
there is nothing you do on your own

no credit

simply give thanks,
humility

remember
that every word
you hear,
the sunglasses,
the hairstyle,
the rock band,
everyone you meet
or think about
is the whole ocean

splashing onto your face now

there is no distant star
apart from this one
in front of you,
nor you,

the Same Ocean,

Wed,

no divorce possible

the only sane thing to say,
thank you
i love you

beauty

beauty
organizes herself,
organizing
principle

micrometer, beauty
micrometer, beauty
micrometer, beauty

watch
the crack

oh precious floating leaf,
just now
just now
just now

unfailing perfection

laughter isn't owned,
sadness isn't owned,
who told you
that you owned anything?
the you of a moment ago
is no more,
how could you possibly
own a fallacy?

insanity
is but a hiding game
within beauty's wings

i tuck my head
snugly under her arm,
and close my eyes,

and while being held
in perfection,
embraced

dream of a far off land
without a mother

i dream i am alone
while held so lovingly,
so securely
in the emerald garden

this beauty of my own
shining
shining
shining

eyes closed,
safe asleep
in my mother's arms

nothing more beautiful than a table,
for it is I

I love this beauty
or
i sleep

the devil

no one ever shakes hands with the devil
out of passion,
but only from confusion

i think fear is love,
death is life,
and separation is union

i act in my best interests
as perceived in this
confused state

i mistake "me"
for reality

i slice blocks
into dominoes
in hopes that they will fall,
but i don't see
that i manufacture danger/fear
in this
state of no thing,
no where,
no happening

"i" am always doing
the best that i can,
and "i" can never BE right,
beCause "it" doesn't exist.

a partial view
of the whole
can never be all inclusive,
wise, unlimited

that is the great
UNdoing,
"he needs to do"
"i need to do, something"
is it true?

is it truer
i need to Undo?
the doer,
the thought of DO?
doo doo?
due?

isn't it time
to get the joke?

no one ever shakes hands
with the devil,
beCause there isn't one.
hah!

an empty filing cabinet

erotica dawned on her thigh one day,
like a moth
hitting the screen
and darting off

and then it was gone
and there was no proof
it ever happened

there was nothing in the case
she carried around,
an empty filing cabinet

when the judge came to look,
there was nothing there

poof!
no documents
for documentation

outside the realm of "possibilities":
Reality,
No names are true.

:-)

humility

humility

allows
God's jewels

without "you"

it is all elegance

no place apart
no place not It

take "your" name off it
and all is well

do you see how the cover of "you"
is but
a dark blanket
laid over Heaven?

there is no name, no word,
no thought,
that can separate Reality

oozing from the ceiling

there was nectar oozing from the ceiling
long gooey strands hanging down all around
even as she got out of the steamy tub
day after night
after morning

but

only some times

on rare occasions

did she tangle her self in it.

otherwise she thought.

she was without the sweetness,

she longed for rain and honey

while the bathroom marinated in it.

there was.
noway
she could ever escape

such goo,

the very umbilical juice

had never left her dry....

but she rang day after day at the door,

waiting for the juice to come

while it covered the floor, ran down the stairs even

and filled every single cup!

what a funny story to tell your grandchildren...

you mean it was there all the time, grandma?

oh Heavens, yes, chilin'
thick as smoke comin' out the back bar-be-que

pouring through the cracks in every slat,
ain't it crazy
we was hungry?

Heart

when terror
strikes your heart

it cannot be true

notice
your heart still lives

not one moment of
anger, hurt or sadness
has made one dent

this is the meaning
of Christmas

this is the reason
for thanksgiving

this is the reality
of HolyDay

this is the light
that cannot be
refuted

Love

It is that simple.

test it

now

all things float
on the surface
of this see
of Love

there is no waste,
no refuse

re-spect it
and its light is visible

only dis-respect (not looking)
is an attempt to see love
as it is not

only an attempt
of the impossible

justice

i love the heavenly justice of it all,
when you slow it down
to nanoseconds,
is it possible
to find a crime?

a thought
is believed...
actions
happen

It's not possible
for you to not believe
what you believe
in the moment you are
believing it.

SO CLEAR

Here is all innocence.
There is no evil.

Reality is always kinder
than the story you tell about it.

eyes don't see

is your dreaming kind
and generous?

what if you let your people
out of their cages
and off your leash

and trusted them enough
to run their own life?

stepping back,
out of molds

losing forms
that were never meant
to be solid

taking off the corset,
how good it feels--
the breeze can once again
make love with bare skin

stepping back,
so much softer
and inclusive,

the "sounds"
all "Here"

in our dreams at night
is proof
that ears don't hear,
eyes don't see,
skin doesn't feel,
and mouths don't eat

and even people/bodies
do not exist...except as images

let me be still
and notice

what is it
that "hears"?
what is it
that imagines?
and where?

let.them.speak

in the words of the wise king,
if you let the paupers speak
they will fill their own hearts

if you embrace their misery,
She will rise.
when she is heard.

the alchemy of
acknowledgement

the healing of
being seen,
looked directly at--

to look in the eye,
meet face to face
every detail of hell

now it's power is gone,
without imagination

just.facts.
Reality,

always kinder
than the story

oh! maybe it wasn't hell
after all...

she gives

She gives and gives and gives and gives and gives
and gives and gives and gives and gives and gives
and gives.

Nature.

she gives when you aren't looking,
she gives when you don't care,
she gives when you are frightened
and filled with despair

she gives without a paycheck,
she gives without a whip
she gives without a back rub
she gives without a thank you

she gifts and gifts and gifts and gifts
and never asks for return,

she burns and burns and burns,
and even in the the burning
she only gives more gifts,
the carbon,  ash,
the open meadow
now cleared for sun
and seeds

she gushes as the river,
meanders as the stream
she gives and gives
and never stops
to pause and think about if
she should
or shouldn't
or who "deserves it"
or if they've earned "their share"

inside
and out,
no divider between

nature,
true nature,
gives and gives and gives and gives...
naturally

no forcing, no twisting, no coercion or "reward"

"The only thing ever lacking
in any situation is what you
are not giving."

A Course in Miracles

(photo: sunlight streaming through blue water bottle on to greeting card and kitchen counter)

if you only stop insisting...

if only you would
stop insisting you are separate
day and night and day and night

without your insistence

melting,

morphous,

amorphous

avail-able
in every instant,
every shape,
any form

alone or together,
rich or poor,
all elevations
and topography

without your constant insistence
that your rights have been ransacked,

no time
or space
you don't flow,

no need to switch routes,
to go around,
to detour

like a child
you are comfortable
inside a bush
with colored markers
all over your face

no space too small,
no position to low,
nor too high
(ride those clouds!)

absolute putty,
willing, able
and as subtle
as the breeze
gently caressing
the leaves and branches

does the wind really have a preference--
whirling tornado
or the gentlest of breezes on your baby's cheek?

pounding my fists on the table,
the raindrops pelting the petals of the rose...

Love
is my name.

if you only stop insisting...
it is not

it's not about...

it's not about doing,
it's about resting

it's not about be-coming,
it's about leaving hold
of the territory,
the familiar,
the known,
the cozy comfort,

the crutch
that HIDES

your gravitylessness,
your weightlessness,
your burden-free essence

the path of
no resistance

without "i know"
where is the price tag?

you cannot lose
what you have not placed value on,
what you have not invested in

it's about un-investing,
un-insisting

and simply
noticing

Heaven

self cleaning...

Situation: someone unsubscribed from my email list this morning.
"She rejected the truth."
TA: She didn't reject the truth.
She rejected her story of (my) "truth".

Only certain people
can hear you

they don't reject you,
they don't hear you,
no receptor,
there's static,
it does not make sense to them,
it's not sane in their world view

so they hook up
with who they can hear
clearly,
where they can meet,
understand and share
their world view/story

it's so perfect,
like a puzzle
it all fits together
the way it does

if you are an outside edge piece
you are not supposed to hook up
with the center piece

so kind
how nature fits together,
no forcing,
no editing,
no censoring

if it's not right for you,
it doesn't fit,
so beautiful
this natural
cleansing

you never need to decide

people stay or leave

thank (God/Reality)
the Way is always
clearing out
clearing out
clearing out

and showing up
showing up
showing up

nothing i can do about it

nothing you can do

there's nothing you can do
to not be connected

there's nothing you can do
to be connected

the story of "lonely"
is a story, for sure

there's only this multi-faceted task force
leading you astray,
take that road,
go this way,
go up higher now,
no, no reach below it,
do the hokey-pokey now
jingle jangle

all the while
you never move
one step
away from who you are,
or where you are,
or what you are,

no thing

just my 'imagination
runnin' away with "me"!

I
remain

the watcher
of the story,
the falling star

is there anything more beautiful
than watching your child
dart across the sky?

there's no reason
to worry, dear

there's no reason
to hurry, dear

just watch
the embers
trailing

no harm is possible

rest

there is nothing you can
ever do
to be
what you forever are

when the floor drops out

when the floor drops out,
the depth is endless,

nothing to stop your fall,
no way to hit bottom

once you have expanded
beyond Mars and Venus,
nothing left
to hold you in,
you can never again fit
into that tiny keyhole

frictionless

falling in heaven's arms

there is no ground to stand on,
and you don't need any ground
to stand on

you have sought everywhere
it is not,
but you can only fall
into it

the absence of effort
can never be found by
more effort

looking to the ego
for freedom from it
is like looking to oil companies
for oil-free solutions

off the grid

when the bottom drops out,
when it doesn't go
the way you wanted,
it's not supposed to

it's supposed to
cut the strings
that bind you,

it's supposed to
set you free

when the floor
drops
out

no lie

a mirror doesn't lie,
look at you!

beyond gentle,
no words to convey
the stained glass "leaves"(?)

oh no no no
what infinity can this
little scribble hold

the word "life"
so very lacking
to hold...

on my knees
before you,
this "bush"

the idea of talking--
that it can hold "truth"

don't be fooled by your
thoughts about things,
somebody else's "labels",
blindness

just spend one minute
with a living, breathing,
wafting, floating just born, born, born
"bush"

so incredibly sensitive

and you will never believe
it to be a "bush"

your
mirror
image

Unspeakable

not just for kids

cedar shingles,
the prickles of pine needles,
oh the scent,
oh the scents
of earth
and every manner of humanity
and non
carried in the mist

for free!

how
do we deprive us?

kids play in the sand
and mud and water and bubbles,
and raisins and peanuts and pretzels, even

we play with our food
before we come to cramming it in,
focusing on the next, the next, the next,
more
more
more novocaine, please!

when was the last time
you really felt the soft wet grass,
the sun warmed grit of concrete,
the smooth cold marble,
the soapy lather
with the palms and fingers
on the end of your legs?

some people actually eat
with their toes

when was the last time
you stroked the feathers of a bird?

Facebook cannot give you,
typing cannot give you,
what a hand holding a pen
moving across a paper...

what fingers squishing clay,
or weaving baskets
or a hug...

right now,
simply squeeze your arm--
feel the satin skin,
the silky hairs

take her out
to breathe
the scents

TOUCH
is not just for kids,

play is not just for kids

scribbling
is not just for toddlers

where are your crayons,
scissors and paste?

joy is play
joy is natural
joy is free
joy is connection
joy flows

joy is easy

completely free

now

it's not popular

it's not popular to smile on death,
it is one law that most (not all) cultures agree on

but who
in all honesty,
who looks deeply
and with sincerity

can find any loss, any harm in death
for "the one who has died"?

isn't it the survivor,
(your own feelings)
who  suffers,

whose joy is veiled
and available?

isn't is solely the survivor's happiness
(identity) that has been seen
to be threatened?

how can i live in a world like this--
(the one in my head),
the one of my own making,
the one of "innocent victims"?

how can i live with my own guilt?
look what "I" am missing!
"me!"

can I really know
better than reality?

can I really know
that the highest good of the whole
is for everyone to live until they are 95 years old?
Can I know it is better for them to die of disease
or a car accident or suicide or war or painlessly in their sleep?

can I really know that children should not die?

and look what I miss...
the brilliance of the life lived,
the brilliant light
of a few years!

who says,
who, please tell me who,
is it
that can see so far and wide
and in all times and in every situation
the perfect time and method to die?

is it really possible
that reality is "off"?

let me give thanks for every instant
of Love received,
the timeless Love
that cannot end with death

let my heart be overflowing with the gifts,
the lessons received,
that continue to reveal themselves

let me honor the life lived
and the death

let me smile
as i realize
"what does it take
to wake me up"?

as i realize
what a powerful Teacher
death is...

thank you

if anyone is offended or outraged by this,
i understand.
if it sounds cold and heartless,
i understand

I see the image of the little boy on the beach,
I see the image of my son dead on the bed from suicide,
I have looked long and deeply
Aaron would be 29 on Sept 8.

I am not saying "do nothing".
I am saying
Love is the power
(and don't believe me, test it :-)

Love to all of us.

it's not popular to smile at death...
and just notice it's not real popular
(for the ego) to smile on life either
hmmm...

why, oh why?

she sat by the gate,
tears streaming down her face,
"why, God, why
didn't you bring him home?"

and it got so quiet
and so large

all her edges expanded
and disappeared

she got so big,
so very big

she encompassed
the whole world
and the stars
and the moon
after moon
after moon

vaster and vaster
and there was no end
to the encompassing

there was no edge
to any of it

and she understood:
he was there too

there was no way
he could ever leave,
no way anyone
could ever leave
the Infinite

and her Heart flooded
and opened
to every ant,
every blade of grass,
every fallen leaf

for it was her very Self

and she sat by the gate
tears of joy
streaming down Her Face,

thank you,
thank you,
for bringing me Home

slow-mo...

slow-mo...
re-view...

hovering now
out of body
over that experience

time standing still,
witness,
see you there,
see her,
him...

the tears
glistening,
the confused child...

see how all she wants,
all she ever really wanted
is a hug
and a kiss
and to sit
on your lap awhile...

a rest

see the innocence?

is there anything at all
you would possibly
convict her for--

is it really a crime
to want a hug?
to call out for Love!
for Help!

slow-mo...

did you ever notice
that your real "ear"
is smack dab
in the center
of your H-ear-t?

slow-mo...

can you hear
the melody
this time?

grace

Grace
is the space
in which mountains move...

literally,
the barge
carrying a million people, cars, and homes
is no obstacle

seen once
as enemy,
its harmlessness,
the 'ropeness' of it,
empties armies of all its weapons,
bullets remain unpacked

used now
instead
in sandbags,
holding the shore in place

there is nothing
wholeness
cannot do

for wholeness
would exclude nothing
from itself

the heckler

the heckler,
the one in the office,
the one on the Facebook page,
the pesky fly who is there
just as you are about to bite
into that sweet, juicy watermelon...

her words,
but jewels
spilling from her lips

diamonds sparkling
in the sun

gold coins,
copper

the hidden camera
to show you
what you've never seen before
about your self

behind the scenes
behind your defenses

the most valuable prize,
given
even prior to your awareness
of its need

completely free

what an amazingly
rich and friendly
universe

prior

prior to man or woman,
to young or old,
to American or British,
prior to human or non...

evicted from littleness,
from crime:
you cannot cross Reality

what a funny story that is

the echo of laughter
everywhere you look

oh sweetest one,
it simply cannot be

you cannot cross reality--
just try!

do you hear the Universe laughing?

prior even
to the "universe"...

if you tell a lie,

you are actually saying

nothing at all…

and you do not need protection

from nothing…

all i need do

is to SEE it is a lie

and lies hurt,

that’s HOW i know

prior to the lie…

what am I?

no image

I am no image

no place
for fear to grip,
to latch on to,
to milk
nor contract

endless Space
for everything

war is only ever
a thought,
a case of mistaken
identity--
i am thing,
finite,
temporal

that's all--
hide the truth
and seek it

but truth
can never be lost

what is no image
cannot lose

humpty dumpty

what if
your "mind" just shattered,
and like Humpty
you couldn't put it back
together again?
(new version of question 4 :-)

What if what once was fearful
was now a joke,
a cause for laughter?
(what if i saw that the cause
of all my fear
were images
in my mind
that never 
really existed?)

and everything
that was dark
and scary and hidden away before
was blazing now
with the light
of awareness,

like the harmless specks
of dust that float, and drift
and are carried
glowing in the sunlight
in no predictable pattern--

uncontrollable,
unforeseen,
unplanned,
unrecognizable.

so
without a thought,
just
born

What is can never be
a "past",
that isn't

what if the "past"
shattered,
completely vanished,
and no matter how hard you tried
you could never be
what you thought you were?

crazy

The radio was playing so loud in my head
I couldn't hear you

The announcer told me of a grave future,
of crime,
of harm,
of public humiliation
and shame

I could not see you.

And you were just a kid,
sitting there.

Just a kid,
sitting there.

I am so very very sorry,
I was crazy.

just waiting for a kiss

Situation: Man ranting on and on about how people who are
seeking enlightenment are "children groveling in the dirt."

Without the thought "He is putting everyone else down,"

He is just waiting for a kiss,
a touch,
to wake him

i hear you
i see you
i see your love,
your kindness,
your desire for the end of suffering
for every human being,
right here
in the palm of your hand

I see your frustration
that people don't see it,
don't accept,
just sleepwalk on by
and continue to suffer,
while the answer
they seek in far off places
and distant times,
lifetimes perhaps,
is here now

oh how sweet the fire that boils in you,
a lust for tenderness
with one's self

"grovel no more,
ye perverted children,
your eye is misplaced,
call your body
your home

and see"

no sound

softly softly now...

there is no sound
when a belief falls

no one knows
but you

it isn't sound,
but silence now
where once
a raucous whining...
poor me, poor me

there is no sound
when a belief falls,
just the utter silence

or
perhaps
laughter
upon laughter
upon laughter

how sweet the sound
of a kiss
in the heart

if my plate were a mirror...

If my plate were a mirror
as I sat down to "eat"
and I looked at that image
of "me"
in that moment,
What are you really hungry for?

I want me
to come clean
in this moment

to identify the crime,
the judgment,
the lie,
I am HOLDING
against myself,
other,
Universe

I want to see
the heavy bands
I have bound this bird with,
the tears in her eyes,
from holding her wings
so long against her body

I want to see closely
the dire straights
I have imagined,
and watch
and feel
as the hardness
softens,
the armor melts
and the heart
dawns

I want to see clearly
the innocence
of this little child

her dear sweet tenderness

to see
all she ever wanted was Love,
to feel,
to know,
the Love
she is

It is but Love,
clarity,
Reality
I am hungry for.

Would I feed me now,
or is it back to "cookies?'

:-)

Feed you

Feed you

Give you
clear water

Only the immortal
will ever satisfy

There is not one "problem"
of this world
that is the problem.
Gmo's are not the problem.
Starvation in Africa is not the problem.

It is starvation of yourself
from your Self.

Feed you
this day
the immortal,
timeless,
spaceless,
frictionless
no thing can ever give you.

Your body
will never be
the problem

The child's toys
hold nothing.

Feed you,
the Stillness.

Put down your knife and fork.

Nothing of this world
can satisfy.

Shut your mouth,
Close your purse,
Shiny coins
can never feed you.

Simply do this:
Let go of everything
you think
you know.

Come,
with wholly
empty hands...

Stuff no thing else
in the Way!

without a tub

Without a tub,
you can't take a bath.

(yes, I know you can jump in a river or a lake
or a sink...or or or...)

Without "I need people to like me,"
I can't be hurt.

Without "I need money,"
I can't be poor.

Without "I need." (period)
I don't need.

Without a "life"/image...(as in I don't have no life),
I can't lose it.

without a past (imagination)...
no idea
who
what
where
when
how...

without a tub,
you just can not
get IN it
(don't matter how many folk
tell you you should...smile emoticon

without "hell"
you can.not.go.there.

(no matta how many preachas
warn you of "danger")

who.would.you.be
without the thought of suffering?

what if
that monster
DID
turn out to be a pussycat...
after all?
and you was the crazy momma
sleepwalkin' all round the neighborhood
in yo' nightie?

what if you woked up...
just now!
and clear as a bell

you hear that saxyphone,
see that starboard wave cresting in slowwww motion...
notice that sunlight sparking on the drops in the kitchen sink...
(it's mirrored in YOUR eyes, ya know)
and feel the vibration of your neighbor's phone...that gift?

the tide is in,
she's here,
for to carry you
Home

i do not need
more than i have
in this moment

thank you
thank you
thank.you.

drop the rock

No thing
is
as it seems.

it is but a mask
you place upon
the Face of God

you call it a bird,
but is it so?

does a "name"
make it?

does the "word",
the sound, the "letters",
g-u-i-l-t,
make it (so)?

never was a world more false
than this

carry no burden,
and you will have none

you've got to actually choose
a burden
to have one,
make believe

imagine an empty bag
or a full one,
lugging it up the mountain,
is there anything you would let go of now,
leave by the wayside?

is it really necessary
to carry
the past,
sin,
guilt,
with you?

holding it close to you at 3am,
into the dawn,
the bright new day?

can you find any reason not to abort
now
this seed of guilt?

would you really plant it
along your path,
for all who follow?

can you find one shred of wisdom
in guilt?
one shred of joy?
on particle you desire?
any value at all?

to be "right" about this verdict?

home is where the heart is,
and guilt is not there

you cannot go home
while guilt is your God,
your first commandment,
thou shalt have no other gods
before me

you must undo
the knot

be still
and know

there is nothing
my Holiness cannot do

for I remain
as God created me

appreciation

have you thanked the ground
you walk on?
the padding on your feet?
the air that's always there (we think)?

appreciation for the space
in which you move,
swing your arms,
ride your bike,
watch the geese fly

remnants of cloth,
thank God, things decompose
to compose
again and again
and again
and again...

isn't it something
what can grow out of garbage?

isn't is something
that there is no garbage?

just the stuff
imagination is made of,
and not even
that?

clarity

Clarity
can only see
the kiss,
the mercy,
the gift.

it cannot see
loss--
the interpretation
of loss
in any form

a child cries
to have the scissors
taken away,
but who is it for?

the loving parent,
clarity,
removes
the child from
harm's way

it knows toys
will never make
a man rich

bare bones
light as a feather

the naked truth
hides no "imperfection"
that it's perfection
is seen

imperfection--a joke

how can it possibly be
that the ocean
could produce a deformed wave?!

it just isn't possible

who is this joker
that would prove it so?

touch

let me but touch
the taut string,
the knotted muscle

it is transformed
IN the touch

i am here,
you are not alone,
it can breathe once more,
it can relax,
it can start even to hum,
a very quiet hum

it starts to slacken
with this attention,
it responds

i see you,
i hear you,
i feel
your rigid stance

i am here for you

in this simple observation,
the tactile connection,
is the elimination of the gap--
the space
between myself
and my Self

wellness

but i must make contact.

to love myself
is to contact myself

are you in your list
of contacts?

do you “rate”

up there with “them”?

i worked with a woman yesterday
who could not find it in her
to want to be with herself

let me touch
even this

Home

do not worship images;
they will fail you

not one can give you anything

what is the message
you put into the image's mouth,
hand, eyes, heart?

does she shake her fist at you
or does she embrace you
and melt all ideas of separation?

does she give you your innocence
or does she sentence you to hell?

what message do you give the world
to give to you?

that is all images are for

so you can hear,
so you can see
with perfect clarity
the belief you worship

what is it that sees?
what is it that hears?

where is it that images
appear and disappear?

rest
here

rest
here

no image can offer you rest
or safety

it is but an ever disappearing ghost
you chase,
an ever disappearing ghost

do not worship images;
they will fail you,
nor need you fear them...

only Home
can give you Home

and Home you will always be

Fullness

If I don't do something to make money,
it won't happen.
Is it true?
No.
It's never about money--
about making, earning, getting
money.

It's always about Heart--
listening to
and living out of
Heart,
Space,
the Fullness of your Heart

It's always about Sharing
(from) the Fullness
of Heart

Heart provides
all answers,
everything
for you

Heart is Source,
your endless natural resource

Silence
the birthplace
of everything

kisses

kissing the walls of my house,
thank you, wall,
thank you, light switch,
thank you, railing

a virgin house lover,
thanking the "door" for the very first time,

the steering wheel,
the dashboard,
the ceiling,
the bed,

so much love here,
no need to wait
another instant
to love this pen,
this chair,
my hand,

all is worthy
of a 1,000 kisses,
falling in love with the world,
images,
no need to retreat

that floor is
my very heart!

oh to kiss the floor...

i forgot
for a while,
it seems

yet all the while,
She loved me.

is there anything
i'm are failing
to notice
in this moment?

right here,
right now
is everything
i could ever possibly
want

can't do it

you can never make a rope
be a snake

no matter how upset you get!
no matter how long you are upset for!
no matter how many people you get
to agree with you,
or how many people disagree with you,
how much money you have
or how much power and influence

no army can do
no bombs can do it
no education can do it
no amount of reading books
or degrees or certificates
can do it

no matter how much you
think you know

how brilliant you are

it just isn't possible
to turn a rope
into a snake

so good to know

a friendly
universe
is friendly

what's the point?

if you saw someone stabbing themselves
over and over and over again

would you pause
to watch
as the steel
entered the flesh,
severed the veins
tore open
the body
in hopes of ending this torment?

would you watch the blood
flow into puddles on the floor?

would you watch
as he fell limp to the floor

until death?

would you wonder
what it all means,
why we are here,
seeming but to suffer so much,
only to die?

would you desperately utter,
what is the point?
(or this should be different)?

what is the point to all this suffering?

exactly

we must all come to ask this,
and to answer it
we must ask,
what exactly is suffering?

isn't suffering but
to demand that
something be different that it is?

isn't that the lifeblood of suffering?

so what is the point
of demanding
something be different than it is?

is it ever possible?

what is the point of a tantrum, child?

it does seem a child's lesson, doesn't it?
that what is, is simply what is

and can't be anything but what it is,
ever

how very very simple reality is.

some of us say the Work is difficult...
yet isn't it perhaps harder to grasp
how confusing
we try to make such a simple thing?

ashes

after the forest fire
the space is cleared
for the sun
to reach again
the bare soil

what couldn't grow
in the shadow
of the ancient towers

now easily
and naturally
springs,
shoots
out in all directions

let the fire begin,

my babies
are waiting

playing in the ashes
of my life,

the ashes
of my dreams...

no credit

i can take credit for absolutely nothing

kaleidoscope

colors
shapes
hands
faces
"death"
birth
growth
flags
parades
trumpet
harmonica
home, home on the range

stove top stuffing
cranberries
toilets
toothbrushes
making love
arriving arriving arriving

kaleidoscope
shifting
falling stars
flashing like the most brilliant
heart shaped beet,
hoof beating
dust
clouds of
genie

i can take credit
for absolutely nothing

kaleidoscope
colliding
bursting
emotions
exploding
in this chest
arm
foot

i watch

i can take credit
for absolutely  nothing

being right

what do i get for being "right"?

i get to prove my worth,
to have worth, value,
intelligence,
knowledge
to be ahead,
to have more,
to be solid,

my existence is justified,
i get to simply exist

i get to solidify,
to have substance

justification for my existence,
a reprieve from guilt for my "taking",
just by existing.

wow! no wonder!

i get to be separate--
me against the world--
the ignorant,
behind,
asleep ones...

wow...exactly like the "war on communism"
or against the "prejudiced ones",
the unenlightened--
meaning...
they disagree

LOL

i get to have a
chemical high
(and a chemical low)
in my brain/body

opposition
is the ego's
whole existence

the body
is proof,
a symbol,
i am separate
and need others to agree
with me so i can survive...

survival of the ego--
just a thought

what would i have
if i never made anyone else
"wrong" again?

listening,
understanding,
taking nothing personally,
defenseless,
kind,
soft and receptive

yes, honey,
i can find where i once believed that, too.

gratitude
wholeness
connection
compassion

wanting

everyone who comes to this world
wants something

we all walk on equal ground;
if you are here,
you are one with me

remember this
as you judge your neighbor

who isn't (here)
cannot be named
nor recognized
in a state of wanting

this is about ownership--
the heartache of wanting

pretending to be ok,
to be spiritual,
to be innocent
(while you still view
your neighbor's guilt)

holds you here
as much as
your wanting

there is no lie
that will ever
give you what you want

i swear to tell the truth,
the whole truth,
and nothing but the truth,
so help me God
is the most loving thing
you can ever do
for you,
for your lover,
for the world

make love

what if that's it?

an obstacle is just waiting
for sex,
for making love to it,
with it,
engaging in foreplay with her,
that's all

she thought you didn't love her.

every obstacle is a call for fertilizer--
the sharing of your deepest self
with her,
your own children,
your vulnerability,

to bare your soul,
not your armor

extending an ear,
that she too
can drop her seeds
all over the ground,
every single one,
hold nothing back

no wonder it's called
the garden of eden--
the space where
every obstacle has been
made love with,
appreciated--
nothing left untouched;
so gently, tenderly
and ravenously
embraced

make love,
not war
(with your thoughts)

being done

it's as if you are living on a barge,
and the barge is moving you,
and the ocean is supporting the barge,
and the earth is supporting the ocean,
and the space is holding the earth,
and the sun is holding the earth in its orbit,
and the sun,
well, the sun
is this gargantuan blazing fire
extending out everywhere...

and you take all the credit,

even for those "thoughts"
that continually keep arriving...
just like the sun...

you actually think you can
and do operate
completely on your own

isn't that a really wild
perspective?

consumption

consumption

one bite,
one purchase
beyond real need...

do you feel empty or full?

time out

stillness
pauses
slows it all
down

it's enough to make you stop,
to see a that a million carcasses
won't ever be enough

i can never get
what i am denying

i can never ease
the pain of a lie
with a hamburger
or a new thingamabob

rest is the only thing
that can offer rest


truth is the only thing
that can offer truth

consumption only gives me less and less and less--
it just keeps telling me over and over and over:
you are a body
you are a body
you are a body,
and the truth is
i am not

(after seeing the movie Samsara)

painting

you paint the picture,
and then insist it's reality

you paint a victim,
you paint an evil one

but you painted it,
you are the only one involved

is that what you want to paint
for fun?

or would you paint the Giver,
the Generous One,
the friend,
the love that falls from the stars,
and carpets the ground on which i walk?

where falling is cushioned
by love
and headwinds caress,
cleaning out all clutter
i would no longer carry

where hurricanes
are in a hurry
to clear the coast
so i can see
the sea?

would i paint the seen,
the storms rising
but to fall and rise again

or
rain water for cleansing,
quenching, nourishing,
growing, transporting,
floating, supporting...

the Giver,
the endless giver

as this brush dips toward the palette,

what color, friend, what color

would you paint me?

ingratitude

the virus of ingratitude
topples the blessings,
like dominoes they fall
into denial,
blocked from awareness

ingratitude looks,
but doesn't see
the innocent
fresh
unfathomable

it does not see
it does not see
it does not see

while yet the heart is filled
and bursting ever open,
ingratitude walks right by
the hands out held with gifts
and sees only lack

sees only a problem,
while an entire amazing
universe
shimmers,
just waiting
to be tasted

just sitting there
ripe

only gratitude
will ever show it to you

that newborn infant,
that baby smell,
in your arms
now

really?

you are not a body,
yet look how you struggle to drive the car,
to get ahead of the other spiritual seekers,
just one step ahead,
get there first,
know just a bit more
as you respond to a fb post

feel it,
feel the hell of that

watch as you try to be bigger
than you are,
to reach out of your car window
and drive your neighbor's car!

could cause quite a wreck

as you resign your own job
of driving your own car.

c'mon, just pause for a moment
and answer this honestly,
are you really capable of driving
two cars at once
down different roads?

it's really quite absurd,
isn't it?

get down

"the body doesn't live or die" (acim)

"you don't have parents" (Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj)

you are not in charge,
get down off your horse

sit down,
do nothing,
simply wait
for your direction

do you find this insulting?

lay down upon the ground,
wait for it to rain,
do you see you did not make it?

feel the earth under you,
do you see you did not make it?

breathe the air deep into your lungs,
do you see you did not make it?

do you see
you did not make your lungs?

do you see there is not one plant,
one rock, one animal, one house
you had anything to do with?

perhaps you moved a few
things from here to there...

but of yourself,
no thing

you are not in charge,
get down
off your horse

do nothing,
simply wait
for direction

without the possibility of failure

without the possibility of "failure"

eyes open wide,
heart opens wide

lush,
luscious every where,

even "cement",
for Heaven's sake!

everything, creation

mind is so fertile,
endlessly fertile

wisemen,
not three,
but billions

what but Love could produce
such endless variety,
such subtlety

without the possibility of failure,
there's only the Lamborghini!
whatever it is, brilliant,
God/Reality,
not apart from you,
but You!

Everything,
Everything,
Every thing
is You!

it would take a real stretch of the
imagination to see all that is
as a failure...

money

Money is necessary (to survive). Is it true?

No.
I can't eat it,
breathe it,
wear it,
take shelter in it.

Money itself doesn't really do anything
for me,
or give me
anything.

just some metal disks
and paper.

My body cannot use it
in any way.

wow!

It is necessary for me to give,
to extend,
to express
what i am

a transit (of love)
a giver of thoughts,
insights,
inspiration...

to transmit,
emit,
light
Love
openness, clarity, understanding--
to cease war--death, confusion

listening is required,
silence is required
for peace,
sanity,
to realize what i am,
for health and wholeness

literally,
my life depends on it.
This feels much truer.

without Love,
my true nature,
i want to die.
Millions of people kill themselves
when they lose touch with their true nature.
They start wars, bomb, kill, blame, criticise.

Love is clarity;
Clarity is what i need--
expanded consciousness
where all possibilities/wisdom is revealed;
where fear is not present to block the way
of proceeding and living out of love.

Joy is necessary to flourish.
Gratitude and appreciation of all that is--
receptivity TO SEE
the abundance that is,
the abundance I am
and how it is ALL GIVEN.
I am graced with awareness.
To be able to see that
I am awareness.

Awareness needs nothing
to survive, to exist.

Awareness does not need money
to exist.
Money needs awareness to exist.
Yes. Absolutely truer.
Nothing exists without awareness.

Awareness is completely free
(no cost, no charge, no payment, no sacrifice).
Pure Grace.

Awareness needs no thing. ever!

What a place to bask!
just wanted to share...
it's just my nature
to share...

so true

don't know

what do you really know
about a tree?

a specific tree,
not just a concept

an actual tree,
the one that lives nearest you?

can you really know
if it feels,
or thinks,
or loves?

this life...
is it really just wood?

those so tiny buds,
the tenderest of leaves
just opening

what do you really know?

are you sure
it's a "tree"?

does that really tell you anything
at all?

have you ever really been present
with her?
her slightest motion,
have you listened to her,
felt her sways,
her relaxation,
her swish?

her beauty,
flexibility--
mind
that rests so easily,
so gently

body/tree follows mind;
mirror follows mind

thank you for this grace,
nothing stuck,
nothing separate,
no one the "star",
nothing more special than any other "part",
no part separate from the "whole"
nothing that doesn't belong

what do i really know about this "tree",
its communication with itself
and all...impossible to separate from "air",
"water", "sun"...
nothing at all

She
is my teacher.

I know nothing at all.
I can't even call her leaves "green".
What in the world would make that so?

how righteous!
why wouldn't i ask her,
listen to her
if i really wanted
to know
her?

is it possible
she has a language
i haven't learned

that i haven't bothered
to consider

so i thought
mistakenly
that she couldn't talk?

is it possible
i've turned my back on her,
walked right by her every day of my life,
and never yet,
really met her?

let me be still now

still
now

and see...

with out the thought
that is a tree...

on a platter

What is it for?
it's value,
it's helpfulness?

everything
is for my freedom

every thought
serves my freedom

thoughts piled high
for you
on a silver platter

laundry

just.one.

is here.
now.

to be met,
held

open your arms wide wide wide

she wants to come Home!!!
she wants your gentle caress,
your fingers in her hair,
your sweater absorbing
the tear from her cheek

your whole "life"
has been for this

to come to this moment
and hold her hands,

this precious
kindergardener

you
are her mother

bruises
rest
on this ancient platter,
long awaiting your kiss,
your ear,
your humbleness

the tray is ready;
the meal is served.

This One.
The One closest to you.
Your Gift.

Now.

reaction

one reaction triggers another,

without the sugar, I don't reach for the salt,
without the flour, I don't want the cake,

without the popcorn, I don't want the coke,
without the getting, I don't dread the losing,

without the embrace, I don't dread the loneliness,
without your touch, I don't dread you leaving,

without the advertising, I don't need the latest,
without her haircut, I don't need one,
without the rain, I don't need the sun,

without this thought, I don't have a problem
without this thought, I don't need a solution

without this thought...
without this thought...
without
this
thought...

not empty

not empty
or
full

no past
or future
or even a now

before time began

before words

before concepts

before creation

before thought

be
fore

be
fore It

be
for It

it is for you

beCause
it IS you

what ever
It is
or isn't

no matter

no problem,
not empty
or full

before
be-ing

dis-belief

what kind of day would you experience today?

a day of perfect peace,
of dis-belief

a friendly universe
where all forces are working
together,
a shared purpose,
celebration and gratitude

all enemies,
but the deepest friends

brothers
are your heart
cast out,
this judgment chosen
over love

the list of grievances
against Source

isn't it time

to look closely
at each place within you
you have denied, shamed,
hidden, tried to pretend
didn't exist,

the child you've kept
in the closet her whole
life,

that revolting image
we see in the news?

our own shining star

nothing could be
closer to the truth
than a mirror

only Compassion
is called for

only
Compassion

pause
here
to compass

to find
and feel
in every cell of your body

this center,
this Origin

what dear, kind thing
would you do first
for this child of you
whose been kept
locked in the dark
for so many years?

let this be my question
today

how can i love
this one?

fertility

fertile,
the cracks
in the sidewalk

even death
is fertile

is there anything
that is not?

this kaleidoscope
of transformation

no wonder "I" slides into "you",
of course,
there never was a difference

black soil that 'becomes' a flaming red blossom!
is there anything that isn't fertile,
that isn't ripe,
dripping,
juicy?

i can't find it yet--
a copper penny
now a cooking pot

a pencil
once a 200 foot tall
dare i say "tree"--
confine such infinite fertility
to these squiggly lines
and sound?

can fertility
ever be contained
by a mind
that didn't create it?

a tiny dot
in the realm
of fertility

all things are no things,
gone already--
all images gone already,
and here it comes, comes, comes...

this fertility
is mind blowing

just notice

Babies

The power of love
to have babies,

in your eyes

Laughter reflected,
in your shiny eyes,
the echoes,
out of your throat,

spaciousness so vast,
it cannot possibly be limited
to "a body"

the wide open vista
of sky,
a heart bigger than the entire
universe,
holding every ant,
every child,
every baby

the master you are,
mirror image,
the only way
i can see this face,
this heart,
an open door
or closed,

devastation
or reclamation

the Power of Love
reclaims it all,

one territory,
Power,

one territory,
Love

all the possibilities

of all the possibilities...

can you even imagine...
all the possibilities?

is there ever an end to this
wealth
of information...?

certainly there is a place for each one,
a time,
a moment,
a click

then surely
the one occurring now
must be its time and place

since it is

isn't that all
the evidence necessary?

the leaf fell

certainty,
no choice,
no "other" possibility

and so it is

friends, so it is

the only "enemy"
is the insane idea
'it should be happening differently"

and even this
is in perfect order

so sweet :-)

love is not blind

oh no no no,
love is not blind

only love
can see

like a rainbow
you never see
until the sun comes out

never see the full spectrum,
violet, orange, gold, lime green, turquoise,
 magenta...

black and white,
good and bad,
yes and no

the folly of a colorless
dream

no reflection
of light,
no refraction

without love,
gray

without love,
the glow
isn't visible

and such a thing
isn't possible at all--

what color are your pajamas
in the dark?
ummmm...
(how can i really claim to see with the lights off...
oh, well...)

to love
is to see

beauty
is in the eye
of love

nothing i can do

there's nothing "i" can do
to make myself NOT have integrity,
to NOT feel that sick feeling  if I'm not completely
transparent,
consistent

this inner compass
wasn't put there by
"me"

intelligence,
deep knowing,
responding,
resonating,
joy,
gratitude,
Self Love
wasn't put there
by "me"

so "me"
can't take it away

"me" can't affect it at all

all "it" can do
is wave it's flag
really fast!
jump up and down,
and grrr its teeth
to get my attention

it's really just sound effects,
she's got no foundation
to give you

just cotton candy
that melts in your mouth
and isn't there
when you go to reach for it

what do i get?

What do I get for believing the thought
there is an inscription in my heart
that cannot be removed?

I get to be wrong
about smallness
and limits
and temptation
that will last forever
and suffering that will
plague  mankind until
the end of time

I get to pause
in the moment
before I succumb,
before I react

I get release from ancient lies

I get inner space,
calm,
a reprieve

presence

the breeze
on my face

fullness

I get the end of neediness
in that moment,
the end of darkness--
habits operating
without awareness

I get the end of fear
and feeling helpless

I get to remain still,
rather than running, chasing,
reaching, stuffing, filling,
trying, compulsing

yes,
what do i get
when i believe the thought
there is an inscription in my
heart
that cannot be removed,
no matter what..?

freedom

the friendly city

the friendly city
is working,

the neon signs,
 traffic lights,
 sewers,
 the open restaurants,
the sales tax,
the paved streets,
the apartment on the 8th floor
with the mountain view,

the park,
the creek flowing through,
the bike lane,
and bike vendors,
the ball park,
the streets blocked off,
the homeless man holding the sign
at the intersection,

the afternoon matinee,
the gumball machine
in the lobby...

is it so?

as i imagine
the entire thing?

what's not to work
when you can't really even find it?

can't really
even
find
it

consider...

can you really know
it exists?

without an anchor

characters loom large
like hot air balloons,
but they also drift away
just as easily

without your anchoring
them to your ground

it takes quite a deep stake
and hefty strands
to hold tight this ship
through a storm

let go
the grip
upon your nightmare

and as it distances
itself
it will get smaller
in your sight,
'til but a tiny dot
barely visible

and at last
not seen at all

there is nothing you have to do
to make it go;
simply don't
hold it tight

loose your fingers
and it will go
on its own

so sweet,
rest,
and you will see
all is well

hands off!

notice,
truly "you" are not needed--
there is nothing for "you" to do
at all

just notice,
you are being done

why work
for what is already
freely given?

just notice

that's all

slay me

break my legs,
tie my tongue,

but you will never stop
the Love i am

you will not change
one thing about me

there is no harm
that can come
to the Source of all that is

burn the image at the stake!

i
am untouchable

the sweet, roasting flesh
is not mine

the midnight movie
has lost all of its
attraction,
sweetheart

slay me,
i'm all yours

peripheral vision

imagine having
only peripheral vision;

that's the ego

it looks straight ahead,
but only sees
sideways;
only sees what's outside
of the range of vision

doesn't that just
explain it all?

would you like tuna fish?

no, that's not my truck!

nonsense.

of course
no problem can be solved--
it can't even be seen!

i keep asking
the waitress at the restaurant
for a truck!

and she looks at me
like i am crazy

because
i am

peripheral vision
is not
what is in front of you

:-)

illness

illness
shuts off the venue
of distraction;

you can't continue
down the same road,
chasing that and that and that...

no body
running,
bed ridden,
a prayer answered

STOP THE CHASE!
what would it take
for you to STOP
the chase?

illness?
a physical breakdown?

to turn inward,

the Only
place you will ever
actually find
what you are
looking for

thank God
you are sick!

how very very kind,
to get off the rat race

you are not a rat!

heavenly peace
is you

feel the support,
the safety in not running,
not chasing
the forever unreachable
helium balloons
in the sky!

they
are for two year olds,

you
are an adult now

time
for Love, honey,
time for love

the end
of Homesickness

without contraction

without contraction
without edifice
without retrospect

awe

body
but a faint image,
distant city lights
fading,
long since gone

the tiny "i"
just a minuscule whisper,

like a mouse in
a closet

see clearly
you have to ignore
all of reality
to craze


the limitless entirety
of reality
or a frozen crystal
that melted long ago,
you choose

there is no choice at all
in reality,

a lie or truth,
the false
can never
be true

come close

come close, dear one,
come close

your "hair" like driftwood,
the curling spirals,
the tossed waves,
the backwards,
forwards,
upside down wildness

the indescribable "skin"
of your cheeks

words cannot
touch

your eyes,
oh Love
Oh Love
Oh Love

have you stopped
today
to really
see you?

the infant innocence,
has never ever left,
not for one moment

newly born,
now,
embrace,
adore
this new born infant,
instant

the only one
there ever was,
ever is,
ever will be

now
all
there
is

the vigil

when you slow the clock
you can see
each gear,
the space between each cog...

the space holder

the space where no proof
is called for,
no evidence,
no goal,
no outcome,
no product
needed

no time needed,
no tomorrow needed,
no better needed

you can see
the stillness
every where you look--
the tall grass,
the leaves,
the buds,
the air,
the sky,
the silence,
the gentleness
of the breeze

the largeness
of space

no reaction
required

no hammer,
no nail to hit
on the head

when you slow
the clock

you can see
it all

no thing off
with any blade
of grass

every thought

harmless
harmless
harmless

tick
tick
tick
harmless
harmless
harmless

puppies!

stillness
precipitates
nuzzling