Tuesday, November 30

Self Reminder

But does the blossoming flower not trust that it will eventually open?
That all through the fall months they gracefully prepare for stillness
And during the winter months simply enshrouded in complete stillness
Until spring comes and breaths a sense of aliveness back into them
Like sleeping children...
They begin to awaken
To be met with all the anticipation and joy of an early summer's rays...

Friday, November 26

Hermitage Ramblings

Moondragon gate: she passes the threshold only to return.
Now here she sits under a shale fossil filled overhang. No rain. No rain.
Just a subtle sense of a slow flowing creek heading due east.

Like me? Seems like.

No center. No periphery.  Just boundless space opening into endlessness

No rattlesnakes. Left now with the company of bear scat & dancing native grasses. Its those truths that hold her attention.

And what a fall indeed.
What a reflection. They have a lace like quality to them. Serene in their poise, gentle in their making of love, swaying in union with all of existence. A sweet type of perfection.

Certainly spinning in an orbit of True Love ...

Monday, November 22

UJI Time

8 legged spiders
dancing towards the edge of an adobe wall
prove to me that time is an illusion
one of our biggest defeats as humans

Trying to catch time on a clock
is like trying to catch oceanic mists with a net
on an early morning
Pacific Northwest style

Cause i am time
are time too
and so is that fly, just standing there staring at you, as they rub their legs together
as if sharpening knives

Its in these spaces that we bloom into the flowing seasons

This time-being is all there is
ever expanding into boundless eternal realms

Friday, November 12

Autumnal Inquiry

What is it that keeps you attached?
And how do you fall when you finally let go?

What kind of wind is the kind of wind it takes for you to let go?
Is it a strong wind? A tender soft wind? A downpour creating a pressure even gravity can't resist?

What is it about that cottonwood branch, those other leaves that keeps you there?

When you finally do let go, do you dance towards your decay?

Do you spin and twirl with the vortex of the changing seasons?

Do you say goodbye?

Do you look up at the others waving as you leave, or down towards your eventuality?

What happens if you fall into a creek?
Do you get caught on the rocks as you pass, or do you continue on your path towards the oceans of time?

Do you anticipate the browning of your skin or envy those still painted green?

Do you ponder what'll come in your wake, or lucidly awaken to the passage of time?

Bare now.

Now. A time for stilling. Now. A time for Inward Reflections.
Ponderous of all there is under last years blanket of fall.

Flow. Flow. Awake. Awake.

What else is there to do?

Thursday, November 11

Speaking of Cultivating Fearlessness

One's got to move beyond 
like the Heart Sutra teaches
like we chant every single morning without exception:

"Gate, Gate, Paragate, Para Sam gate Bodhi svaha"

And as we move beyond
as we slip between the creaky rusted gates of beyond 
as we move beyond the confines of beyond 
we learn to believe in ultimate expanding possibilities of everything and nothing 
all at once
woven into a web of cosmic boundlessness
into this
a serenade of evening songs
Regina Specktor style
exploding atoms of interconnection 
unfathomable physics
excellence penetrating everwhere
orbs of light reaching even the most darkened of galaxies

As we learn to move beyond
we learn to become weavers of a whole new cycle of time
we learn to listen to the joyful release in those fallen autumn dancing leaves outside our cracked open windows 
we learn to crochet a whole new bliss into a morning after sorrowful moments

Cause after-all
aren't they just stories we tell ourselves?

And if its true
if its our perceptions that cause our reality then why stop here? 
Why stop at all? 
What about healing from the dream? Meeting in the dream? Realizing its all just a dam dream!
How can we teach one another about fearlessness?
How can we cross that threshold and enter a new space?

How about we begin by standing on top the tiny snow globe of our lives and take a swan dive into the sunsets of eternity?

So mote it be 
that our reality is a reflection of our projections

from here on out I'm projecting love
without reason
with wings
beyond myself
and connection
to the myriad beings 

I'm working to cultivate a garden of trust
and truth
infused with belief and night time cups of chamomile tea
and yes, here i go
prepping up for this jump
beginning this crossover beyond fear 

Gate gate paragate

And somehow
it all seems possible
cause there's this manual i've stumbled upon in the attic of my mind
call it from lives past
perhaps intuition
call it whatever you'd like
but i can taste it and its infused with release from fear of judgment 
like that owl book sitting next to the Himalayan salt crystal upon my night stand

and it speaks of worms and compost
its even got a green commons that is big enough for us all to celebrate the dawning of this moment 
spinning in this vortex of togetherness
now vibrating
we're dancing alone in our solitude
and i'm rejoicing and reclaiming what has been ours all along
senses wide open and hearts pumping truth through our veins

Tuesday, November 9

Into the Abyss

How do you say no to yes?

And what do you do when you feel a truth so pervasive that you have no where to go but back into the surging cosmic spiral of everything and nothing?

And what about the times when there's something of grace drizzled upon it all, a lure, like a hook, do you turn and run towards it? Away? Where's the return? Where's the safety zone?

What makes intimacy groundless?

Who holds transparency?

I wonder, of the most impossible, of the most inconceivable of all: How to proceed beyond fear...

Saturday, November 6

Dancing With Her Shadows

Once upon a time she imagined love
like for real love
like the kind where you are held in liminal space of darkness and trust
and together are suspended within swirling shards of light
like prisms
like absorption
it all shatters into yesterdays and yesterdays crumble into years past and those years past drip into eons ago
its all just consumed by fire and spit out into the surging cosmic dance of everything and nothing

Its been a while
since she's been held
like for real held
seemingly from a time beyond those shadows of lights cast aglow
thrown down upon her from antiquated street lamps
like pacific northwest drops of rain clinging to her hair
she tiptoes out from between her lovers warm thighs
into those early misty morning moments of bicycle crossings
she's dancing across eerie city bridges

Maybe that's where it comes from
that longing to be seen
which is received like no other
she's relived of lonesomeness and longing
while her lover sleeps and dreams

Gathering the sum of theirstory
in a time of petrified wood and dinosaur bones
thoughts caress her with seismic nostalgia
bloodied fingers reminiscent of oceanic depths
pulled out from deep within the raw caverns of her body
now its him
and he's tiptoeing out of her early mornings into a dance of boundlessness known as zazen

Beyond black or white 
its beyond days and nights
of turning back clocks and calling it fall
of moonless nights in Scorpio
galaxies descending upon us in ways of light years
countless backhoes digger even deeper into this vagabonding soul

So while she sat there emboldened in that mirror
between the dancing flames of candlelight and self reflections

she began the recapitulation

But i wonder
what is it she is trying to fill exactly?
it is porous? sharp? tender? whole?

And what could he possibly have to offer that wouldn't be just like the others
that of tenderized, salted pulpy hearts and lies full of promise
hiding behind grandmothers in this desert-land of dancing balls of fire
falling low
on the western horizon
clouds obstructing sanity

She's learning to cultivate organic matter in ways she's never believed
and the voices sing her to sleep with dreams of morning tinder

"...Just grow yourself my darling dragon
just don't let them contaminate your soil
just keep a safe space in place of that recoil..."

And besides, who needs any of it anymore anyway when you got the milky way right outside your front door?

Disappearing now into this darkened new moon night
she's tap dancing across a river of magpies over a bridge of stars

Finding in her own kind of oceanic sunrise
a humbling sunset in the gleam of speckled brown eyes