There is no home like sitting.
But words take one step toward the mind
And one step away from "I".

Time equals dedication.
Aspiring to be as dedicated as my house mate,
Rather even more dedicated.
How do I compete with almost 50 years of regular practice?
Just minute by minute.
No comparison is really needed.
He has his mantra and siddhis,
While I have my shikantaza.

Maybe when the brain is most fundamental, the neuron groups respond in the most redundant way.
The back of the brain receives energy, the side lobes transmit thoughts, the central core is silent, the frontal lobe is afraid to erupt without reason.
The heart desires love, the ******- *******, the stomach-food, and the palate-wetness.
The body containing many rooms dedicated to different functions, where I am the observer of all of them.
Each room a mechanical device operating in autonomy.
And me with the reflective capacity to witness it work.

'Abdu'l-Baha said that all current forms of astrology
are bogus,
but said that the stars do affect us,
because He wanted to make us try and understand
the sky for ourselves.

The sky is as the mind, cognition, in change.
While earth is as the body, structure, little change.
The sun moves the fastest from day to day,
so it is the heart, the essence.
The moon moves slower, but still relatively fast.
It is as "the breath, the Spirit," He said.
Mercury is the fastest planet in the sky.
It is as "water, the baptism of knowledge," He said.
All the other planets move at about the same speed
up there.
The constellations are as designs and spaces,
crystals, if you will,
by which we see.
The movement of the stars from century to century
is like the circadian rhythm.

See clearly
and find out for yourself
using a star map.
This is all done within reason
and mirrors many elements of
other ancient astrology.

My eyes are so full of joy from a day spent with a dear friend.
We climbed into the mountains of our hearts.
What could be a greater adventure?
We sang our thoughts to each other.
I learned how to better be.
As you ignored my small talk while parting, we both knew we were meant for these mountains, and not the common plains.

I look at a woman's overall shape, if I look
on the surface at individual parts, I must
focus on that one that gives me the most pleasure.
With unknown women there is spontaneity.
To fall in love, I must recognize her every body
part as consisting of a whole being of beauty.
My hope in a woman keeps me interested in them.
Looking away from her does not reveal herself to me.
Another woman's stare divorces myself with the
previous beauty.  All that is left is my memory of her.
A woman's picture doesn't want ***.
She wants a man to trust, a man to love.
I thought I saw the golden pyramids of Giza
in her breast.
I thought I saw a horse's mane fall from
her head.
I saw bones like foundations of steel and concrete.
I saw a ***** as round as a balloon.
I saw not one piece of flab on her.
I looked at myself and said "How could are
union ever be?"
Maybe if she was Wiccan... maybe if she could
express her power over me...
Maybe if she really only cared about contemplation
of the heart, or the soul... or,  maybe if Jesus liked
interfaith marriages...
Maybe if we spent time together on projects...
Maybe if I wanted to change her beauty.

Divinity is like a fire, which the body can only
handle 98.6 degrees.
Only meditation that buttresses up against insanity
can reveal how strong or potent it is.

from before Rama to beyond Baha'u'llah

I find inducing sleep helps me transcend thought and emotion.
"You're sleeping while sitting?"
It's like holding a thought of sleep to transcend thoughts.
Maybe I should just go back to 'just observing'.

People sing a song
Put away your ****.
Let's run a race
To see the Master's face.
Wizard with chalk
Seeing stronger than a hawk.
Genius of a deed
A person without greed.

Island unto me
A reason to just be.
Island unto me
A reason to just be.

Does God have a name?
I think it's a shame.
We all wanna talk
Can we even stop?
Books are fun
Living without a gun.
Silence is a key
A key to mystery.

Island unto me
A reason to just be.
Island unto me
a reason to just be.

On the clay of grandeur ebbs and flows the lights of knowledge from the orator of wisdom until it becomes so embedded with light that it hardens into celestial steel that obeys the West of expansion and supplicates itself to the East of resignation.

Words of men find no passageway in this enlightened sky where understanding has no increase.  

For it is held in the dawn of another day between which is a night that knows no sleep in a world without a place for it.

For here the Prophet has repaired to His home in the clouds of the sky which can only be ascended by faith tested by the mirage of disbelief,

only to then lay on the pillow of exasperation in the field of victory.

The light of the manifest heaven is, alas, as a breeze in the middle of the night.
The hellish blaze of former times still resonate in my heart.
Knowledge is as a copious fountain in the Earth's riverbed,
And wisdom grows on every vine even if it dwells upon the dust.
The measurement of time is the only level left between the people of the world.
Seeing clearly the brighter side

O night that has eclipsed tomorrow's day.
O joy born of nutmeg.
You are just like the joy without you, only I find it through digestion of food and sweets, cigarettes and coffee.
In any case that joy is a gradual climb unlike nutmeg.
Should you be God's word among others?

O neck of pain,
O joints of strain.
O look without word.
O look without attribute.
Light aligns in columns to thee.
Now light a leaning tower.
Now a horizontal bar.
My light is put out by eye's lens.
*My consciousness puts out my stare.

I see your smile through distance and screen.
I hear your thoughtful voice from miles away.
We are so much alike,
Though we disagree on some of our certainties.
We talk and talk,
And sit to meditate,
Together.
And when I become pressed up to your heart,
You throw a glass of syncreticism in my face,
And our heart journey ends in disgrace.

Water drips from a faucet
Or it gushes out of a shower head
Sometimes I want to turn it off
Sometimes I want to leave it on
Sometimes I drink it
Sometimes I swish and spit it out

Those crow's feet
and lines by your smile
tell a million more stories
than a face
smooth and sweet.
Bittersweet wisdom hidden
beneath what it means
to be woman.
yet your eyes take me to court
ruling I'm 5-10 years
still young.
The worn skin on the front
of your neck
the freckles at the top
of your chest.
A million women would ****
to be as thin.
There is something spiritual
about age
that no one can crack
nor dismiss.

The author of poetry from original ideas;
the author of poetry from secondhand ideas;
the repeater of poetry (communicating meaning);
the speaker of poetry off-the-top of the head
(due to great understanding).

~From the Pali Canon

"Were ye to emerge from the obscuring dust of
utter nothingness, then ye would recognize
that all things declare the evidences
or your existence."

That happens every time I pull an all-nighter.

The people have been so encircled by the Scriptures of the past, that they do not know what to do once they hear the sacred streams from the Pen of Baha.
To whom do they turn among their former companions?
They ask: whose power can quench the song of this Sacred bird?
Whose sovereignty can allay the anguish of my soul?

Women almost half my age:
Why is the 20's such a lively and beautiful time that you are the very life of life?
My heart goes out to your beauty,
but God forbid that I should love a fool to death.
But I do!
Oh, Ah,
How you rule the field of love!

When Baha'u'llah said "be a companion of the Self of the Merciful", I knew it is that self that has an inner whiteness that reminds me of virgins' eyes.

Then He continued: "and from association with and resemblance to Satan", I knew He meant befriend all, judge no one, and bear the accusations of the ignorant.

Continuing, "enter beneath the sanctity of the Bountiful, that perchance the hand of Divine grace may draw thee away from the paths of passion unto the heavens of everlasting might and majesty".  With this finality I realized that One could use the holiness of the righteous along with love for all and Satan in the same sentence, and still open up heart's rose.

The intellect will always fail to grasp wisdom.
Wisdom, the unutterable, is still an actor in emotion's stage.
Emotion's hero is a child.
The world's schoolyard doesn't wish to leave a child on it.

The mind is the most charming
Of the senses.
It wishes for more complicated
Symbols that represent
This mortal world.
These symbols mistaken
For the highest good,
And could become a veil
Between the highest good:
The soul.

The soul must be nurtured
Before the mind.
Though the seas of knowledge and spirit are both vast,
The mind can drink more
And faster than the soul.
Thus, for one concentrated
On the soul,
It takes double the patience:
Not only to overcome the trappings of the body,
But also the allurements of
The mind, which always seeks this world in a coy way.
Always beguiling it's bearer of knowing more at the expense of friends, family, and community.

Righting beautiful wrongs.
His name comes forth as a poet.
A ship goeth upon the sublime sea.
First this wonder swims the cool streams.
Ship that it is, that becomes as one with time.
Here takes the shape of over there, that shipyard, that dock, those waves, and the mighty horizon.
No will to press for ship's sake save to meet another ship.
Wandering in the waves for water's ways.
The magnificent mystery of puzzles catches my eye.
While there is no other ship straying here I will becloud myself with this beauty encrested in man's reality.
What and how will I find a drizzle of a drop that he should proclaim to be truth.
Forth he finds who can hear him.
His name is Noble, the Middle Way, the Bridge.
Don't fall lad, don't fall.
Should the fall hurt, reflect on how one may not bleed again.

Light, not heavy.
Light, not dark.

Heavy, not knowing.
Dark, yet to be seen.

Wonder, amazing.
Complex, simple.
Tacit and discrete.

Notes and ears.
Lines, shapes, changes to equations.