Waking Up

I am walking through the field
Feeling overly filled
With strangers' love
And love that's strange.

I am kind of tired of talking.
I would just rather feel
All that has been spoken
In silences between.

My energy is wasted.
I cannot be contained
While those desiring clarity
Are only half way there.

I will retain my distance
And shout on demand.
I may be an enigma but then I've always been.
To me and some of others, thus nothing will reframe.

I am walking through the forest
Overwhelmingly concerned
Such life, it speaks so loudly
It's thy ear that's been closed.

Might You Help?

Please forgive the intrusion.
All the obstacles are an illusion.
I am looking for the right infusion
To send this bird into flight.
Will you choose to assist in that?

Is

Ignorance and Grace
Staring at each other from
Opposite sides of the same fence.
One's formidably built
The other is...complete.

Loving Hand

With confidence and ease. With expertise. And unintentional tease. They glide along the contours and search for every crevice. A way to find the key to the music long tuned out. Each inch alive and sighs in awe. Of all that was and all that is. Awaiting to be soft, receptive, and fulfilled. The barriers fall back. They cannot stand a chance. The mind cannot explain the melting of its hardened defense. It all becomes a blur. A state of purity. When one is touched by hands that only sing of love. And this defines a man beyond the greatest verbiage. If only it could be an everyday occurrence. All powers unite in wisdom and acceptance. As love swells up in volume until the grandest mergence. And as the journey flows, the heart cannot but glow with that which cannot dim low right then or in a moment. True virtue of a man has finally been known. Preventing him from war and its subtle undercurrent. The loving hands make marks deeper than scars. Turning the process of paying forward on. And all the cells rejoice in innocence and joy. 'Cause those hands of man have ripened beyond the nonsensical execution of the mundane. And thus the word "Amen."

Yours

Your beauty and your grace.
Your smile and your embrace.
Your warmth of the fingertips and touch of the lips.
Your love and your kindness all speaking to me.

I want to be near you.
I want you with me.
I want to explore you.
I want to begin.

This life is unknown to me
But to you,
It seems to reveal
What it means to exist.

I want to adjoin you
With my hand and my heart.
May we be in contact
On this rollercoaster ride.

And if I forget what your beauty has meant
Remind me with freedom you've come to embrace.
I am here before you
Like student on Mars.
Your love and your innocence
May they leave their mark.

Dubbed

All the little people sitting at the table.
Drinking drinks and eating eats.
Over twenty years later, the center of everyone's attention.

All the outcasts are sitting at the table.
Heads thrown back laughing, air filled with innocent shrieks.
Over twenty years ago, the interest of noone's study.

They speak the language of the few.
They see the world of the many.
Over this lifetime, unable to be seen and unable to be celebrated.

Living in cubby holes and tiniest of spaces.
Awaiting the opportunity to spring forth.
Over many hours, simmering with internal juices, bursting at the seams until...

All the unknown people finding one common ground while sittting at the table.
Hands held and cheeks kissed.
Over the generational divide, the once unnoticed melt into the unmistakeably noticeable pot of their one essence.

Love...It's been dubbed "Love."
And it oozes out of the fingertips, out of the corners of the eyes, through the skin into the big people, the accepted people, all people until all the world tastes its sweetness. Over the next twenty years, this work will be done.

Mind Weeds

The dots. The specks making up the dots. Slowly connecting, forming a more coherent and complete picture, a picture that is starting to fill up the entire screen, except I am aware that is a remote possibility.

Suffering comes out of comparison.

Like the math notation, equation, representation. A is greater than, smaller than, or equal to B. A mind's sick trick to keep itself occupied in the absence of having something better to do. Maybe, had I understood any math whatsoever in school, I would have understood this reality sooner. My usage of the term "sooner" shows only too well how easily I create suffering when it didn't exist just split seconds ago.

Because if I looked at any one thing and at any one person as if I am seeing them for the last time, I would see their beauty. Without any comparison I see them. Period. Nothing more and, certainly, nothing less. And all the frivolity just melts and resistance vaporizes and a sense of subdued love and compassion arises. I, as the observer, become compassion itself. And such soil does not grow suffering. Thus, the weeds of discontent are uprooted...

And when I see myself as something I am not, I am unable to remain with what I am. I am unable to see my beauty, and I am unable to see the frivolity of my overworked mind. And the paradox is just this: seeing the inner light makes it glow even brighter until all I am is a light that shines in all directions. The frivolous mind games of comparison fall out of existence. And the weeds of discontent are something of the distant past.

The Foundation

Light a match. See the glow form.
Light a wick. See the glow double and triple.
The energy of one ignites the other, and the combination is greater than the individual flames.
There is strength in numbers. If joined by the same something.
The individual is strong. The pair is stronger. And the triangle, I am told, is the strongest of all configurations. You. Me. And the foundation. Two of such triangles. Then three and four. The lattice of a crystal is formed. Solid and fully alive. Vibrant. Beautiful.

Let's uncover. Let's find it. Slowly and mindfully. The very ground that holds us upright through all the storms and violent words. The very earth that softens the hard landing of the foot or the cascade of tears. Let's find a network of such foundations which will elevate my and your and their humanity until we fly like the angels. And let's call this foundation the mother. And let's bow down to it. And let's recall that while gentle, she's the fuel of our vehicle. Without her, nothing is.

Unsolicited Advice

You don't have to please her.
You don't have to hurt her either.
Could you state your situation?
Could you love her with all your being?
Could you simply see her child?
You don't have to blame her.
You don't have to resent her.
Could you simply voice your inner affairs with the vulnerabiliy of your child?
You can turn around, exit through the revolving door, and sprint toward your freedom.
You owe nothing to any one.
You owe everything to the one.

And when the pain subsides,
And when the child matures,
And when the limbs and the speech relax,
You can return through the revolving door.
You can measure the distance travelled.
You can begin to sing your favorite song without shame.
You are now the star of your own existence.
You owe nothing to any one.
You simply are the one.

Looking Closer

The need for identity. The need to be distinguished. The need to be a somebody. The need to be unique.
The need to be attached. The need to be defined. The need to know oneself by the external markers.
I am this. I am that.
All in vain. All limiting. All confining. All restricting.
One box is too small to hold the enormity of the human. Any box is a box with boundaries and walls. Usually concrete with all the meanings. 
The need to know. The need to feel on solid ground. The need to proclaim oneself and stand up. It is all there. It is all-powerful. It is never fulfilling when experiencing the movement of the breath is all that there really is. Is all that needs to be known.

And I say

And I say to him: "Darling, you can only run away from yourself so much. Your sprinting legs will soon tire. Come with me. I will take you to nowhere. And there you will sit."

And I say to him: "Baby, all your running around is circuitous. It will not take you to where you're looking to be. Come with me. I will take you to nowhere. And there you will smile."

And I say to him: "My dear, be courageous to be with yourself. Move into yourself, as you might have moved into others. Come with me. I will take you to the promise land. It may have treasures, and it may have emptiness, but there, I promise, you will be."

A Happy World

From knowing the
      Beauty within
To living the
      Love within
To dissolving the
      Ugly within
To overflowing with the
      Life Within
For the world to enjoy.


or, in other words:

Know the Beauty.
Become the Beauty.
Compassion will flow.
Love will bloom.
Love becomes you.
Dissolution closely follows.
Nothing is needed.
Everything is given
From you
To the world.

The New Life

I am wondering. If we were to return to the so-called less sophisticated times, when families were called extended and not nuclear, what would the nuclear part of that family look like? It just occurred to me that, maybe, the couple relationship might not have been so intense during those times.

Let's look at this. The fights, the attachments, the expectations might just be simply less grand. After all, there are all these other people to help to fulfill whatever needs I, for instance, may have. I might be surrounded by cousins, uncles, aunts, granparents, parents, other children. It's like that "everything but the kitchen sink" type of environment. My partner would be one of many intimate relationships in my everyday life. One of many intimate relationships is the important distinction.

There is something to be said for the role of a community that is largely missing today. The nuclear family of today is constantly around each other, without getting a respite from one another, without having sufficient ways to release and channel one's energy, or express true emotions, or re-charge.

One of the joys and benefits of having to go through the isolated nuclear family age is that this type of an arrangement was, in most instances, born out of choice between two people. Now, there is a choice to extend this particular family to include carefully chosen friends who have the potential to create the support network once provided by blood relatives without all the inevitable drama.

It appears that we are moving in the right direction. There is one caveat. The importance of including friends of all ages into the mix is rather profound. Projecting curiosity and compassion will draw in an array of shades, shapes, and experiences of people which is badly required for a full appreciation of humanity and for a full connection among people.

Perhaps, a new generation of family is about to be born. Out of choice. Out of vulnerability. Out of joy. I am standing by.

Stamp of Approval

It just happens. On its own. As if there is a magnetic field unseen by the eye that pulls us toward each other. As if I am walking with eyes closed, arms outstretched  in front of me, moving into some direction clearly not chosen by me.

The "each other." We are the creatures who just don't seem to belong. Not to a club, not to an association, not to a team, and, most curiously, not to our families. A split occurs within. We are not excited to be there, and we're not excited not to be invited. One foot there. One foot anywhere but. The tension within is great, and, at any moment, can burst and, in fact, does burst, and the damage takes its valuable time closing its torn edges.

And so we find each other, we relate to each other, and yet, we still do not belong to each other. We simply embrace the other, include the other, sympathize with the other, love the other, accept the other, be there for the other with deep understanding, honesty, and vulnerability. And while I might never belong to my clan, I seem to find refuge in the profound meeting with one akin to me, carving deeper into that which is to know at all times that I belong not to a club, or an association, or a team, or even my own blood family, but to the mother earth and the father sky, and the birds and the bees and the lakes and the trees, and to all that is. Because whatever that is knows me and I know it, and I no longer need anyone else's stamp of approval.

Amen

Not everything is to explained.
Words are limited entities.
Any verbal explanation is insufficient.
Words without emotion are merely sounds.
Sounds are an instrument like a drum waiting to be used by the hand whose soul is waiting to be heard.
The things that are known and have no need for explanation are life itself.

Life itself is that which cannot be named.
Life itself is that which cannot fit inside logic.
Life itself is that which can only be experienced.
Life is beyond anything that can be labeled, for only the tangible has an identifyable quality. Even a sweet emotion is palpable. The depth that is life is just that: too deep and too grand to be handled and presented in a package with a red bow. To taste just a glimpse of it is overwhelming enough. To know all of it is beyond imagination. It is beyond the standard perception.

Dance, I say, is the vehicle for the life within to begin to come forth, for in that moment, the mind and the body are no longer obstacles. They, too, become the vehicle. Suddently, a smile appears, arms become wings, and a glow arises. A tiny speck of life is known. It cannot be measured. It cannot be explained or recognized as familiar. It is beyond the mind. It exists as itself. It makes me see the possibility, as well as my unexpectedly good fortune.

The Origin

Everyone is capable. Few dare. 
Everyone is able. Few desire.
Living with eyes closed. Closing doors to what's real. To what's honest. Remaining underneath the pile of heavy sweaters. Piles, that is. Waiting for an opening to get out, yet timid to take a step forward, toward the new.
The internal doesn't shine. Looking to the outside for assistance. Support is virtually non-existent. All are looking there. 
The whole is greater than the sum of individual parts. 
Come together. In any way possible. In any way palatable. With the intention of inclusion. Of pulling away the dark curtains to see the light, to rejoice in the light, and ignite it to glow even brighter. His and hers. And theirs. 
The original sin? No. The original source. Far removed, shunned, feared, forgotten, buried. 
I am looking for Thou... 

Useless

The moon is nearly full.
The air is crisp. 
The night is still while
We play the role.
The role most easily played, rehearsed from way back.
Purposeless in the long run and comforting in the short.
The voice of a victim.
What the other is and is not. What the other takes and gives not.
Protection through loudly scratchy offense for some and thickened defense for others.
In basketball wisdom, great defense creates greater offense. 
In practical sense, tighten up and fire back.
All in an effort to pacify the fragile child who continues to long for acceptance.
Drama, internal trauma, inflicted wounds to all and every one around who has any perceivable and immediate impact. Who has not fulfilled the so many needs. Who has shared his so heavy a burden. Who brings us down, or places a mirror two inches away from our face. Who speaks unconventionally. Who is many things we do not understand and even more things we do. Afraid to admit. Afraid to own.
Victims are many. Adults are few. 
Sometimes they are lonely. Sometimes they are used.
Love is disarming if comes from a child. 
Because it is pure. Because it's abundant.
The void disappears if touched with one's true being.
The victim dissolves into nothing and tastes a life that's worth living...
 

Seeing Not

I.

He continues to guide me, as I latch on to everything he says just as he tells me to drop what he just gave me. All words, all experiences are road signs, not absolute truths. How difficult to break the need for certainty.  Truman woke up to a beautiful day every single morning, greeting his wife and neighbors in the same manner, eliciting the same response. A familiarity that so easily becomes a comfort zone. Predictability is easy.  I’d prefer to operate via a clear life philosophy, and yet the sunset changes colors every single millisecond, leading to the thinking that there is a clear life philosophy that states there is no philosophy. There is just life. 

II.

I come to him. Or maybe he comes to me. If one observes a particle in a vacuum, the particle changes its behavior. The same song keeps playing daily, and sounds differently each time.  Once a leader, now switches to following while gliding along an unwritten continuum, then returning to leading, tracing the ill-defined path of a spiral. Nothing seems to be clear. Only shades of grey. She says she loves him and so she does. When she is done loving him, all aborts. He plays a small part in the equation, if any. Life events can hardly be traced to the beginning. 

He touches me. Or maybe I’ve touched him. He embraces me. Or maybe I have already embraced him. There is no beginning, or end. Continuous movement and dance between every single particle that changes its behavior with every observation and an ounce of attention. Life within is able to flow according to the surroundings. Love creates a flow of one kind. Anything else creates anything else. 

III.

Switching between light and darkness. Seeing her hell and his heaven. Both created by one catalyst. The one catalyst living in everyone’s perception. A catalyst lost on the road, attempting to follow conflicting road signs. A catalyst who is nothing more than a human-in-training.

In Balance

The more I live, the less I know. Truly.
Conclusion leads to confusion. The latter is more conducive to knowing life, I am told.
Clarity comes slowly and leaves quickly.
Experience is not deep enough. 
Looking to relate. Unable to see the seed.
Filters remain despite the daily scrubbing.
Energy flows out.
The child inside scared.
Perspectives run amok.
I wish to be still and fully aware.
Ability to balance on one leg with the other doing the talking. The silent kind.
It's dark in here. Maybe lighter with another's flashlight. A relationship worth having.
A leads to B and the combination to Z. Beyond that is up to me.
I am looking for the key that unlocks the mystery and exposes the miraculous. 
Clarity comes and remains.
Experience deepens.
Planting the seed.
Filters dissolve.
Energy flows through.
The child inside is alive.
I am alive, still, and fully awake. Truly.

What Life

Moving right along the course of life is profoundly easy in the state of complete exhaustion. It's a wonderfully beautiful position to be in, as the mind's incessant nonsensical monologue slows down by at least 80%, the body seems to have its own agenda, gracing various oases at various stopping points indicated by the hands of the clock, and the energy reaches a point of sweetly relaxed amusement. Suddenly, everything is light, fun, joyful, and is. 

Floating through the day on airy wings, effortless mobility, seeing no rocks or boulders, only streets lined with encouragement, and people parting like that sea. Choices are clear. Conversation flows. Judgement is in deep slumber to a great amazement. No energy wasted on that which is not. And the song of bird doesn't stop. What life. What opportunity. What can be.

Eureka!

The life lived in a pursuit. A constant pursuit to find happiness, to find meaning and purpose. The constant race to find that piece of peace and happiness. We spend all our waking hours looking for that one addiction to give the sense of joy. We keep running and running, changing from a sprint to a jog, and yet the movement never ceases. 

I am here to declare, as my most recent instructor would say, that peace and happiness are the beginning of life. They are not the pursuit of life. Life is wasted on the pursuit of happiness, because it is not something out there that can be fulfilled by someone else or by something that we do. The source of that state of being is within us, originating from energy. It is the pursuit to finding access to that life energy that is necessary for the life to unfold and be fully expressed. 

Once found, once tasted, once it becomes available every moment of our existence, we are in the state of happiness. The chase ends here. Once and for all. Life becomes complete, and it is only now the question of what is needed to be done to improve the surroundings around us. You are no longer important. What you think and need and desire have no meaning, for those states only have power on the way to finding happiness. Their purpose falls off. A new purpose arises and that is how to serve, how to become an offering, how to become a useful tool for change. How to be at the right place at the right time with the right tools available at your fingertips to create beauty. 

Simple. Energy. Happiness. Offering. Life worth living.

The new pursuit is finding the access to that unlimited supply of energy and keeping the flow at all times. Done.

Please

Dripping with beauty. To serve the world. 
Reaching for within. To be an offering.
Searching for the plug-in. To access the source.
Burning with compassion. To light the surroundings.
Placing down the old. To cleanse the road.
Screaming for freedom. To explode the rainbow.
Disposing of the trap. To be the channel.
That drips with compassionate beauty and serves as an offering of rainbow freedom powered by eternal source of clarity.  Always on. Always blazing. Always full. 

Please...

Unimpressed

And I remain unimpressed.
Talk is cheap, I say. Yes, you can keep up the poetry, if it feeds your expression. I am happy to serve that purpose. I am happy to be that vessel. I will be there to receive it. You must know it flows into and out of me, with little impact. I remain unimpressed. Talk is cheaper than dirt. Energy converted into sound, rolling off the tongue like steam off water boiling. Just vapor, dissipating into nothing. I choose not to collect it, for I know it is not I who is complimented. It is my vastness that holds you. It is my vastness into which you crawl. It is the great space that exists within me that pulls you in and begs you to remain. It is because I do not exist that you are able to find respite. I continue to remain unimpressed. Talk is cheaper than cheap. Leaves no impact on that which does not exist while that which is has no need to be complimented. Space simply is. And I am all too aware of it. It is not my doing. It is not my invention. It is not my product. It is there. Revealed. You bathe in it. You bask in it. You are inspired by it. You compliment me, and I continue to stay unimpressed, for you do not know what it is you're complimenting. You just know the effect of it. I prefer an unspoken acknowledgement that carries no weight, no need, or hunger. I will know when it happens, and I will become even smaller, a tiny speck, while the vastness grows infinitely larger, swallowing you whole into ecstasy.

In Search Of

In search of...

She and he. They. Are in search of. Answers. Knowledge. Understanding. 
Connecting. All dots. Adding. The bigger web. Of beauty. Or a trap.
There is. No end. To be seen. It is. Imagined. Concrete. Melting. Into fluid. Into air. Into imperceptible. 
The imperceptible. 
Entering. New realms. Again. New. Territory. Immeasurable. 
The need. To know. Remains. Stumped. Leaving the familiar. Throwing. Pots and pans. Then hands. Into the infinite. Bowing down. In awe. In surrender. Offering. Oneself. Wholly. Unconditionally. As there is nothing else. Nothing else. Nothing.

Conditions

Conditions.

I remember a very astute professor making an observation about human nature. While in elementary school, we are assigned seats in the classroom, as we fight and rebel that regulation. We do not like to have boundaries drawn around us by someone else. By the time we finish college, we willingly sit in the same seat day in and day out. Not only do we not resist that same seat, we welcome the safety and comfort of the all-familiar environment. We draw our own boundaries, while rejoicing in our freedom to do as we please. Except there is no freedom in the unconscious behavior. It is only the illusion of it.

The boundaries extend beyond the borders of the physicality. We certainly may put our bodies in the same seat on a daily basis. That may be just fine. I am more interested in the boundaries I draw around my thinking. The willingness to expand the mind beyond the daily experience. If I have never tasted ice cream, would I be willing to experience it? How many conditions would I have to break through, how many stories would I tell myself either for or against seeking out that new experience? 

Boundaries are created for the sake of safety and comfort. The ocean is big and the pool is manageable. My relationship is small but I feel safe. What I don't know about is called crazy. That is until it enters my experience. Then it is I who becomes crazy for thinking the limited thought. 

Conditioning.

It is a product of our past. It is meant to be re-examined. It serves no real purpose. It proposes no solutions. It keeps the status quo. It forces the life inside to close up and assume an unnatural shape. It provides no safety or opportunity. It is trash to be taken out with last week's garbage collection. It is the skin that is to be shed on a daily basis, so each day is free for exploration. 

Unconditioned. Unconditional. Without the boundary, without the condition, without the preconditioned mind  is when humanity's bud can begin to open up. And while I may still sit in the same seat day in and day out, it will be chosen in the context of serving the entire room full of people.

"I"

I love you.

I miss you.

I want you.

You draw me in.

You entice me.

You intrigue me.

I am losing my footing.

I am responding to your being.

I am helpless.

Fear arises.

Conflict hurricanes.

One step forward and two steps back. Or three.

I love you but...

I miss you but...

I want you but...

Your power.

Your grace.

Your beauty.

They overtake me.

They suffocate me.

They drown me. Gently. Gradually. Unexpectedly.

Reaching for the flame that has the potential to ignite me. And to burn me. 

I love you. But only conditionally.

I miss you. But only conditionally,

I want you. But only if my feet are securely planted. Into the soil. Into your heart. Holding you down. Just enough to love you. Just enough to hold you. Just enough to swallow you. Without losing.

While you talk of surrender...

Kiss My....

Clarity is approaching. To say all things are clear would be a gross overstatement. To say a thing or two is clearer would be more appropriate. The pointer finger is first directed toward me. I am very much guilty. I know this feeling very well, and so it is rather easy to observe elsewhere. How to name it? The feeling of not stating what is true for me at any one moment, what needs to be, and, certainly, what I prefer to do. Social graces and etiquette are only the beginning. Social constructs of how to behave, what to think and feel, definitions of proper and improper. This is where the meat of all the pain is. The unconscious subscription to the rules of the game. The cost is unfathomable and abominable. I have paid with my life all through my life, watching my life slip through the very fingers it created. We are given a language without the alphabet. We are forced to live it without understanding the fundamentals. We deny our own nature to fit into a box that is much too miniature and confining. We feel constricted, restricted, wound up, and small. How I admire those few who are able to stand tall, unapologetic for any internal process. I watch them in awe and learn that the true limitation lies within me, that the grandeur of dogma is not that grand, that the box I was carefully put into is not mine, that there is nothing wrong with my way of being, that my fears are the same as yours and my confusion is as deep than yours, and if only I can honestly speak my truth at any one moment, and communicate the needs and the wants, I can become free. And in that freedom, I will choose to be integrity, honesty, compassion, and grace. The golden rule can kiss my... I simply become gold, as the rule naturally falls off. I become gold, because it feels good to glow. Because it feels good to shine. And that is all that needs to happen.

For R.

Empty. Burdened. Longing. Seeking. Looking in the closets. Drawing in through words. Walking as Atlantis. Except the legs are dragging. The weight. The burden. The longing and the seeking. Less is infinitely more. Easy. Gentle. Relaxed state of existence. Seeing and expressing what is. Honest. Simple. Gracious. It’s ok. Breathe, my darling. Sit your weary body down. Take off the world. Stretch yourself out. In all possible directions. Open up the pores, let the rain and the breeze cleanse and the sun heal. All of you. Open up. Drop the expectations. The disappointment. Step out of the trap. The trap is just imagination. Of your imagination. Freedom awaits. With more love and life. More than ever imagined. The little guys know it. The big kids are the confused ones. Creation is infinite. Myriads of possibilities. Existing like the stars. Waiting to shine upon you. Touch the handle. Gently. Turn the knob. Quietly. Listen. Feel. The compass is pointing. Read it. Carefully. Stay. Or go. No matter. It’s all ok. Breathe, my darling. You have all you ever needed. See. Feel. Full.  

The Greatest Show

They are very similar in action and in words.

They seek me out with speech.

They reach for me with words.

They sit me next to them.

They engage in their loquaciousness.

They forget the softness at their side.

They go on. They go on.

Without a moment’s break, rest, or pause.

The momentum keeps building.

The snowflake becomes a snowball.

They roll down a steepness.

They do not stop to inhale.

They have left me a long mile ago.

I stand there, alone, watching the peacock flash its feathers, wondering what all this energy is tossed out for.

They seek me out.

They sit me down.

They recede swiftly.

With no insight of the consequence of their non-action.

The dragon spews fire as the flower sags its pretty head.