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