clear your mind
heal your heart
face your shit
write some poetry
feel the flow
enjoy the glow
Oh the echoes in my mind
From ancient times to midnight row
What a distance the golden bird has flown
I’m running with the wolves tonight
I dream of being alive
Will we ever speak again
Can I have back what I broke
I have born the scorn of the forlorn
I sit here on a sunken boat
The everyday mind: that is the way.
Buried in vines and rock-bound caves,
Here it’s wild, here I am free,
Idling with the white clouds, my friends.
Tracks here never reach the world;
No-mind, so what can shift my thought?
I sit the night through on a bed of stone,
While the moon climbs Cold Mountain.
Have I a body or have I none?
Am I who I am or am I not?
Pondering these questions,
I sit leaning against the cliff while the
years go by,
Till the green grass grows between my feet
And the red dust settles on my head,
And the men of the world, thinking me dead,
Come with offerings of wine and fruit
to lay by my corpse.
Here is a tree older than the forest itself;
The years of its life defy reckoning.
Its roots have seen the upheavals of hill and valley,
Its leaves have known the changes of wind and frost.
The world laughs at its shoddy exterior
And cares nothing for the fine grain of the wood inside.
Stripped free of flesh and hide,
All that remains is the core of truth.
—Cold Mountain 🏔
The Destiny of a Human Being is to confront fear.
You have everything you need to do so.
Two are made one within you.
Wander and seek until you find, then rest.
I can tell you from experience, this is the way.
The way of no way.
Once you know the I AM as you, you will go beyond the I AM into the Absolute, where all is then available to you.
I had to face the worst and most evil in myself and in my family.
I had to expel my hatred and anger.
It was the hardest thing I have had to do.
Enacting your will is the only thing that grants you power.
When you have come to the beginning, you will come to the end.
“The life of a person is a circle.
From childhood to childhood.
So it is with everything where power moves.
When a vision comes from the Thunder beings of the west,
it comes with terror, like a Thunderstorm.
But when the storm of the vision has passed,
the world is greener and happier.
For wherever the truth of vision comes upon the world, it is like a rain.
The world you see is happier after the terror of the storm.
It is not enough to have a vision. In order to have its power,
you must enact your vision on earth for all to see.
Only then do you have the power.”
–Black Elk on his Vision Quest
”Look down at me and you see a fool
Look up at me and you see a god
Look straight at me and you see yourself”
Ring-a-ring o’ roses,
A pocket full of posies,
We all fall down
Fall into every hole
Rise to every height
Don’t maintain your cool
Don’t be afraid to be a fool
Or be afraid to be fooled
Maybe just go outside and fly a kite
Dance and sing
And move along
For you were not born forlorn
From an eternal pool of Love you sprung
The Sun and Wind see you play
Soon enough you will be dust
No one will remember us
But the Earth and Sky
So go and play
Before you forget
A man sets out to draw the world. As the years go by, he peoples a space with images of provinces, kingdoms, mountains, bays, ships, islands, fishes, rooms, instruments, stars, horses, and individuals. A short time before he dies, he discovers that that patient labyrinth of lines traces the lineaments of his own face.
— Jorge Luis Borges
once upon a time there was an old star who had thought it had seen everything…
one day it spied with its timeless eye a small blue gem…
what is this new thing covered in blue water…
suddenly, without warning, the star began to fall…
faster and faster…smaller and smaller…until he could fit on the head of pin…
blackness…and then there was light…a bright wet light…
no memory of who he used to be and was still yet up there in the sky…
one day a bird was heard singing by the Hu-Man boy…
but that is another poem for another time…
many adventures await the Hu-Man…
fly you fools
There is only one moment and that moment is now.
I am always omnipresent when I write now. I cast my rod out/into the Cosmos seeking nothing and I always find just what I need now.
Why is that?
How is that?
There is only one Event, not a chained series of events happening in time, the always flowing stream through the center of existence.
The Garden, all flows from the center outward.
That Event is always happening now outside of time, entwined in time.
We were pushed down a rabbit hole by a white rabbit.
You must always follow the white rabbit.
So what brings us to Now?
Abiding presence in the flow of the ever happening now.
So what takes us out of now?
Illusions in time.
Can you dig it?