Past Those Palace Walls

even in those times when we have no choice
but to offer our humble lot to the Above,
when we are undone by life’s firm grasp in
that way she shakes us free from what we are not –
could it be that this too is perfect?

there and wins and then there are losses
our lives tend to flow between the two
but some become so distracted by winning
never seeing in fact, past those palace walls,
that true Freedom only comes from loss –

the loss of everything you took to be you.

this is not a somber loss, it’s only the mind that thinks it must be so –
firmly attached as it is to the belief to be separate from the hand that holds:
it is a loss and yet the deepest gain – a gain of nothing, really, but what a nothingness,
the nothingness of divine peace and an opening to Love within.

it comes when we put down the heavy load we’ve been carrying
when we finally surrender our love to nothing but the truth –
all these judgments and resentments and projections and frustrations
must be thrown into the sacrificial fire and burnt to ash
we’ve only held onto them because we are afraid to stop complaining!

life does not punish but rather she is forced to give us tough love
she’s not sentimental – why would she care about those precious feelings –
she wants us to release ourselves into and as the wide open and nothing less,
to stop pretending to do everything ourselves in the face of all she does for us…

so, let’s not worship at the foot of Frustration,
pretending like we are justified in a revolt against Life –
it is simply arrogance to believe that life has wronged us,
when she gives us every opportunity to drop the pretence and Be.

at some point we must recognize that our prayers are answered
at any moment we stop fighting, and let Life pierce our heart open to love;
it’s not about having a bowed head, it’s about saying ‘Yes!’
and getting out of Her way for once.

we have to recognize that suffering comes when we fight against the universe
it is the reminder that we have shelled ourselves away from Her.
peace and love is our nature, begging for us to let them in –
and if you fight the universe – who do you think will win?

image source: Catf

morning coffee

this my ritual of defrosting the body, absorbing bittersweet warmth into its cool carapace. slowly, slowly, the felt sense that I am apart from the rest resolves itself into the dew of unity’s palate. some days, bubbles of joy break through the froth almost immediately, and there is a waking dance under the lip of my mug. others, quieter days, I am reminded of how the body longs eternal for its release into the open vista, and there is a gentle surrender – a dipping ever downwards into the mystic night of the endless merge – slipping deeper into the thick silvery black of the molten brew.

The Tree

Green,
some of them –
made of oak or pine,
our watchful neighbours,
titans of the forest or on streetlines.
tell, have you ever really looked at a tree:
watched how it grows and yet stands still
what I wouldn’t give to become treelike
a tree has nothing to apologize for!
it insists only on its being itself
on growing into its full stead
without asserting dominant
nor hiding from the day
it is a simple thing
as far as I know
but it’s strong
and gentle
like the
earth
on
some
cool
days
when
your
feet
touch
dirt
and
you
know
this
life
is
perfect.

Freedom Within

Is it possible that this very consciousness that is perceiving in this moment is completely free? Free from the feelings – pleasant or unpleasant – of a body, its up and downs, pains and enjoyments, moods and emotions, even the raw sensations that pulse along throughout the states. Free from the thoughts – the buzz of the mind, the projected self-image, the internal dialogue, even thoughts about the truth. And free from the world – not limited to these five human senses but ‘sensing’ itself in a dimension not quite known to man but rather, man being known through it. Is it possible that we are simply playing this game of being people – and yet we have made these bodies out of our own substance and the world they play in too, while all along we watch happily as the person lives it out, set within. Is it possible that the substance of our being is completely intimate with all seeming things, that nothing arises that is not chosen by It? This Being, this Consciousness, has not for one moment parted itself from its home. It has always been, resting in itself, contemplating itself, loving itself, being itself. This knowing, with which you know yourself and out of which all appearances are made is Freedom…

The Town is Empty, but the Guesthouse is Full

room and board has already been paid
the town is empty but the guesthouse is full
we stay up all night sometimes
dancing to the beat
of the infinite drummer
we don’t worship
we don’t get stuck in dead words
there’s not a lot of room here to get maudlin
and any shame is left on the road by the overpass

to avoid overcrowding, we’ve set up a lottery
but there’s only one name on the ballot
no way to get around that

my friend,

you’re in.

Under the Cool Moon

there is a collapse
of walls held round the heart
and then the reflected light of the body
graces itself to love again:

a slow walk under the cool moon.

it’s not a big moment
it’s not a big event
it’s not an enlightenment
god, to only let go of that word,
we’ve all done our work!
let’s remember what we share

it’s a slow, gentle, patient falling away:
snow drifting onto parched earth
and melting in, deep, through
muscular tissues and fascia
into the cells and marrows
of memories laid down
time before time.

there’s also a sharpening to this,
a grinding away of ignorance’s block
it doesn’t all feel like snowflakes –
but this part comes with that satisfying feeling of
pulling apart pieces of old dead flesh
making way for the light to cascade through

light that is living
that’s beyond care
light just for light

it’s animal and beatific
it’s pure and it’s rude
it’s a divine melting
and a burning crash

This isn’t really for angels.
I mean, I don’t know any.
Do you?

life is red and black and blue and white
and everything else for that matter
it’s a symphony
it’s all transparent

it is

Of the Sun

This wonder lives
in the eye of the I,
as brief expanses of light
echo within galaxies lost to time
that soar through the night sky,
regardless.

When waking life is seen to be the waking dream

then Life, never parted from beauty,
is known once again in the heart of Awareness
and all of this enfolds itself inside once more,
and there’s no more gap.

the empty cup is full
but the dizzy dancer doesn’t settle for terms.

it’s all too much sometimes
too much to take in
so there’s a melting into the words of a song
and then the song melts itself into the motion of silence
and then it springs backwards into fireworks over the bay

stillness laughs
and motion snores
and everything between is singing for us to remember

because there is nothing to fear:
not a belief, not a thought, not a dream nor a nightmare

the one in charge is good
we have a good captain on deck

I only know because one time I glimpsed the sunrise after a dark night,
a night when everything collapsed,
and now I know.

or, maybe, now I know I don’t know much but
what I’m trying to say is:

The sun doesn’t stop rising,
And we are all children of the sun.