A vital connection
remains at ready..
We have cleared the brush
before
once or more
but brambles return
clouding our vision
erecting prison bars..
So press the button
for clarity's return
for exile relieved
for grace revealed..

Covid-19
Has gained our attention
Attention in terms of
Dread..anxiety..boredom..
An unexpected lifetime
Experience which has a
Global sameness..of sorts..

Restrictions and constrictions
Imposed from without and
Within..responding to an
Unpredictable dark force..
Resilience is oft cited as
Our need to recover the
Size and shape of our
Lives before..

Yet..might we stand back
From imposed constrictions
Recognizing ourselves as
Witness..The calm face of
Resilience..and allow the
Constrictions to uncoil
In their own time as
They must and will...

A question of burden:
imagining a future
where responsibility falls..
Light or heavy
is the measuring stick
which swings at
us all..
There is variation:
light to one
heavy to another..
These are perceptions
which result from
imagining departure
from our
peace just now..
However..might we
observe these departures
from our peaceful place
allowing their departure
within our peace...?

Relegated as a minor poet
Longfellow's Psalm
returns as memory
from a long-ago classroom..
Is it time to look again..?
Two verses may suffice..

In our real experience
dreams and waking
share one reality:
each are manifestations
of the finite mind
which rises within our Self
(and in astonishment
for the material-minded)
are made of our Self..

Indeed..this experience
awakens us from slumber
and at last we discover
things are not what they seem..
Our Self
not the confined self
(which our culture assigns)
is our true identity..
The Self..well..of course
is not made of dust
is not destined
for the grave...!


Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
   Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
   And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!
   And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
   Was not spoken of the soul.*

For the complete poem, A Psalm of Live,
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, use
this link:
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44644/a-psalm-of-life

Deciding
to return is
breathtaking and frames
red becoming blue
a red life
of pleasure and
pain
seems what our
world is and
was
until questions arise
a bird's quick
motion
a fox's intention
and blue appears
on the far
horizon.

When we reflect
On our life
We might resemble
A train passenger
Riding and attending to
Clocks and destinations..

The rails on our train
Reveal and restrict and
Guide beliefs in the
Severed nature of things..

As a passenger we are
Rattled by a whistle
High notes we exalt
Low notes we blanket..

Until the day
We step off the train
Into the station
With its permanence
Recognizing arrival
Finding our Home...

Righteous Anger

When anger bursts forth
In an encounter calling to
Unleash our fury..
The veil of dualism
Of separation seems to
Thicken..to conceal our
Inherent Peace..

When we recognize
What is above
Our anger responses
Can be sourced in
Our Peace...

the lyrics are
burning with emotion..usually..
with earthy attractions and
experiences..
but with new perspective
our focus widens and deepens
with the ring burning
our illusory smallness
bringing awakening
to that which lies
beneath the ring..
with never ending defocus
and haltingly at first
we fall into that
infinite sea of love..
and we abide as that
which we always are...*



Love is a burnin' thing
And it makes a fiery ring
Bound by wild desire
I fell into a ring of fire

I fell into a burnin' ring of fire
I went down, down, down
And the flames went higher
And it burns, burns, burns
The ring of fire, the ring of fire

I fell into a burnin' ring of fire
I went down, down, down
And the flames went higher
And it burns, burns, burns
The ring of fire, the ring of fire
~~Johnny Cash

The poem
is formed within
and made of ourself..
It is the waveform rising
in this moment from the
infinite potential resting
in each of us..
The poem rises and colors
the moment and then dissolves
as a wave into the sea..
The remnants which remain
inscribed on a page
is for readers who follow
bringing new waves
rising and coloring
and resting once more...

A river's lines and patterns
We meet at dawn
Prior to our day's directions..
We claim precious freedom
Our own course we plot
These crossings and confronts..
With faithful imagination
Now we must meld
In new dimension to find
Our birthing direction...

an unwelcome call..
a search for work
repairing roofs
indented by hail..
survival
his time and occupation
today..
wonder is what
use instead his time
might find..
or is this call
our common
fleeting pain and
two possible doors
to explore...

gently
and find yourself
in a dream..

going with
the flow..
effortlessly..
paddles  stowed
singing of a dream..
then of a sudden
singing As a dream..

recognizing now
boat and paddles
stream and you
are the dream..

Who is dreaming...?

All is well
All is love
Made of love
So..what's the worry..?
Or..the outrage..?
A quandry arises
The above seems both
True and False..

We witness suffering
And cries for help
Not to be ignored..
Resistance rises
Action asserts
But now something new
Ancient separation subsides
As Sacred outrage
Blossoms...

Two squirrels
reaching high branches
safety now
ahead of a determined
orange cat
tails twitching furiously
scolding chirps announcing
the futility of
future pursuts but
knowing certain
life and reality
persist on
a razor's sharpened
edge.

sameness is light
difference comes from
filtering light
curving...
no sameness without
difference
no difference
without sameness..
this is
waking...

Forgiveness..
is it most simply
a recognition
an instant insight
that duality cloaks
our true nature
allowing the ego
to ride in strength
stepping on toes
often unnoticed..
and therein lies
illusory Satan's joy
and the seeds of
Forgiveness...

Shrieking birds
front porch disturbance
lilac springtime
much does depend
on
reconciliation
this sunny
morning.

warmth in cornered sun
chirping birds nesting squabbles
street motor noise..errands...

A painting once seen
man in Sunday dress fishing
Easter morning river...

Tree shadows  11:28 AM
sun angle miniature projected
diminished in light...

Attention to breathing
exhale noise and nature and day
sunlight inhale...

Remembering
a quiet porch with
table and chairs
empty and waiting..
These a frequent witness
of conversations
children's excitement
dog and cats..
But now emptiness
a filling quiet
not waiting Now
quiet only knowing
the joy of knowing
itself...

to enwrap consciousness
in a thought-filled cage..
Pressing consciousness
through the bars and
with temporary relief
from a seeming demand
to reckon with an observer
an inner presence entangled
with sights and sounds..
We are all struggling
to find Peace..Happiness..
Struggles are the
messages from These:
a simple request to re-direct
our gaze and ears
to that which precedes..
The consciousness of
our deep intuition...

Let the thought float
Observing it whole
As a fish or plane
In the sea or sky..
Now change focus
To the sea or sky
Allowing the thought
To dissolve as
All thoughts must..
Bring then notice
to that remaining
which we must Be...

Not noticed
yet most nearly near
hiding in plain sight
is what all are seeking..
Seeking by plan and by process
awaiting the day and the time
for that which is sought
to appear..
That has many names
reducing to only one..
Many findings on many paths
flare in the moment
announcing the search's end..
But those findings
very soon confess:
not here..now not..
It is close
much closer...

Who are we..
This seeming person
Doing that which we
Seem to be doing
In this moment..?
Do we see
That "seeming" is our
Ticket to Recognize
Ourself as character
And ourSelf as Stage...?

The appearances of no-thing

Appearances are all that arises

All of those seeming-things and our

Seeming-self among them

Seeming to be here and gone

That seems about it...

Is a seeming something really so..
This word "seem" hedges our certainty
de-sharpens the edges of the object world
which in this moment is the scene we survey..
But on reflection it seems (that word again)
that all observations must begin with
this oft-neglected preface..
Seeming give recognition
to what we can know and the
wool which often diminishes our seeing..
Certainties melt in a wave of seeming
and somehow seeming brings
a wave of Peace...

See Spot Run..
This icon of our education
yes..of youth..but continuing..
The question might be asked:
Was our education ever other
than variations of Spot running..?
Sophistication arrived but
the strong belief of separation:
Spot..and ****..and Jane
remains.. seemingly implanted
unquestioned and permanently
in what we call our world..
Through the years
some have found discomfort
a hole at the center of
Spot's adventures..
A vague unsettling
blossoming on some days
to sharp fragmentary pain..
In our many searchings
for restoration and  fulfillment
might we in some momentary
clarity..see Spot not running
but dissolving into
the light of day...

The word itself
Implies a limit..
With the limit
Freedom is lost..
And a search ensues
To find what was lost..
Many others are met
Billions perhaps
Also searching..
A tragedy until
A fortunate stumble
Reveals our SELF...

The large question mark
points to a wish
a longing to find
our real Identity..
Not the identity we found
in childhood years
which lingers for most..
In years as children
we discover a self
separated and ready
for a life
with promise and color..

When this life sours
when we intuit
another identity
seemingly out of reach
our path of discovery
need be continued..
Teachers and guides
are there for us
to pursue and search
for the Identity
we somehow know
is made of a
peace and happiness
not satisfied by worn
childhood knowing..

A teacher's message
if heard correctly
will point to our
new Identity and
will also caution
against a pedestal
for the teacher
with beliefs to anchor..
Almost home..
Waiting for that
morning resonance...

Apparently
We all need to inquire
Today or tomorrow
Earlier is better some say
The question in question
Points to current beliefs
Of who we are or
Of the river or mountain
Or of traffic jams
Questions galore
But the one Answer
We must recognize
Lies hidden in each
Question...

We speak
Of the small self
And the large Self..
With attention to the
Capitalization of Self..

However..the Truth
For our grasping is:
There is only one Self
Capitalized or not..

We refer to our Self when
We use our most
Intimate name:
Which is "I"..

Small self is "I" which
Seems clouded with the
Transitory and colorful
Things of our day..

Also this: ..each entity
Of creation..deer..frogs
Trees..share in identifying
As this Wondrous Self...!!

We journey the world
With diligence and hope
Overturning many stones
Seeking a situation
To end our desire
Our desire for home..

It is open to question
Whether this one or that
Will end their desire
With a simple
Self-Recognition...

cooler autumn sunlight
shines through the colors
of summer leaves
with endings in sight..
endings which wrap
and proclaim definition
to bright sun's
diffusing rays...

In our early innocence
We live with appearance
Appearance of an
Amazing plethora
Coloring our innocence
We are doves..

Then we forget as
Appearances declare
Their independence
Introducing the ego
Dove to Serpent

Then the discovery
Serpent is what Dove
Does all day long
Serpent is Dove in action
Dove is Serpent at rest...!

the extreme forms
we know as abuse:
alcohol..drugs..***..food..
there are also thoughts
reflecting deep-seated bias..
perhaps a political persuasion
which has lingered for
years of a lifetime..
can we speak of
an addiction to happiness
or are all of the shades
really a search for happiness..
the ego searches and insists
that the search among objects
will locate the illusive
happiness..
the search might occur
in more subtle terrain:
religion and forms of
spiritual practice..
yet these must also
bear their shades
of addiction..

How do the senses relate to "being?"  The senses can seem to
be objects residing in a subject/object world, but perhaps there
is a unicity present, in that, senses and sensing might seem as
one, or being.  The mind will picture things like eyes or noses
which pull into the separation cage of belief and illusion.  But,
backing off from all these floating thoughts, with their nagging
dissatisfactions, it might dawn that being appears as senses
and sensing, and eyes and noses..and separation's shadings of
being are blatantly exposed...

The lesson now for
All traditions
Religious and not..it seems..
Is that beliefs and practices
Which you have fostered
So long..always carry their
Shadow of Doubt..

Our own experience tells us
Why this is so..
Beliefs and practices live
In the realm of our minds
Cast in separation modes..
Replacing mind with Mind
Yes..Drops the shadow...

Distinct and lengthening
Shadows of evening
Allow a discernment of
What by habit we notice
As separate:  we and shadows
And an external fading light..
Herein lies an evening insight:
We seem to live as shadow
Not recognizing that we are
Not formed without Light
And we..as shadow..are
Only shading of Light...

Prayer
must have a
Feeling Shape..
An artist suggests
our inner shaping..
The dark struggles
of our dimension
in imagination
find a Location..
This lower darkness
We inhale to
Light..
Our own Black Hole
becomes now White..

This White dimension
has no location
time or space..
Just a feeling
of Oneness
an absorbing grace..
But return we must
to our Location
which we find
has changed  face..
One prayer cycle
is now complete
but the cycle
is breathed
again and
again...

expecting summer warmth
cold spring wind
shiver bird ruffled

the orange sweater
harbinger of autumn..
this leaf coloration reminds and
a warm texture promises
fall sunshine and wind chills..
these thoughts and perceptions
we might observe
as paul cezanne
checked out his carrot
with revolutionary results..
inviting the ordinary
to expose Itself...!

A quick storm it was
followed by these
inadequate words..
Thunder and bits of hail
splashes on roof and roadway..
Then soon enough
birds chirping celebrated
a welcome sunlight return..
Remembering the cast shadows
temporary covering of light
an appearance of separation..
Perhaps the birds recognized:
there was no absence
only this short
burst of sunlight...

The flow of blood
Bears the oxygen from
The lungs..to our
Extremities...delivering
Sustenance to extend the
Lifetime of each organism..

Or..is this a flow within
Consciousness..an activity
Made of Consciousness..
Our conditioning most often
Selects the first option
Overlooking this One..

So..our new paradigm of
Consciousness-only
Suggests both options
Simultaneously..rendering
The flow of blood and
Oxygen delivery as
Appearances within
Appearances..Showtime
In Grey's Anatomy..!

Freedom at last
From grasping illusions..