falling into the mystery

when i gazed into your soul
and rested in that open vista
it was like looking over
a vast continent
mysterious and unknown
there is a track, something familiar
and known,
but everything leads
to this mystery

i am an explorer there
sometimes i stumble on a darkness
and even a wild animal
hidden in the shadows
but then, around an
unexpected corner,
i chance upon
the hidden valley
a sight that takes the breath away
with its majesty and splendor

you, my dearest heart, are all of these

all we can really do is explore
ourselves and each other

drop all this judgement and knowing
the truth is you don’t really know anything

it is all an utterly transcendent mystery.

Thinking Is The Problem

Do not look to the world for your salvation
But go deep inside yourself
And return to that state
Of utter stillness and grace
Before mind starts
Grabbing and measuring
And judging
Don’t move!
Stay in that garden of love
And rest among the flowers and bees
Relax and let the world become the whisper
Of an insect somewhere in the distance.

The truth is we are blessed
And cursed by thinking

It liberates us and draws us up
We create and design and imagine
But it torments us and tortures us
When it runs out of control

So stay in that garden of love
And let your own mind
Be like the sound of an insect
Somewhere in the distance.
Green

Awareness Walking…into Starbucks

No arms, legs, feet or body
No sense of someone taking
These steps
No me left to own this
Yet still a hello
Comes from the mouth
A smile to a passerby
And a soft appreciation
Of the morning fog
Here in Sausalito

I disappeared somewhere back there
And now there is just
Awareness walking
Wide awake and utterly open
Crystal clear
Yet also
Like a beautiful dream
Of silence
Awareness walks on
Past the shops and the coffee cafes
Tempting one and all
With delicious aroma
Awareness walks in smiling
Surrendered to desire
And approaches the counter
‘What can I get you?’
A voice appears
From the silence…….tbc
san-francisco-before-dawn-2
silhouette-2
walkway-2

the art of now

pulled this way
and that way
by past and future 
the art of living
is to stay
here and now.

the waves 
pull in all directions
but the ocean 
is unconcerned, 
happy enough
to allow
all movement
without
preference.

in now
you simply
disappear 
into the space
you truly are.
all loving
kindness,
and all creativity,

emanates
from that place.

© 2016 Thunderbolt Press
Tree and Water

A scene from Puriscal, costa Rica
A scene from Puriscal, Costa Rica

 

The moon cried sorrow

The moon cried sorrow
And the oceans wept
The sun disappeared
As the people slept 

A meeting was called
And the die was cast
A decision was made
That the night would last

So the people kept sleeping
And dreamed a long dream
They dreamed they were living
But it was just on the screen

If nobody wakes them
If nobody cares
They could be sleeping
For thousands of years

Please somebody shake them
And show them the way
Just open the door up
And let in the day

And the sun will be grateful
And share of its light
And the darkness will vanish
Back into the night.

Pool at Dawn copy

A Poem From the Master – RUMI

“I wonder about our own world.
I wonder about so many of us, alone.
I wonder about the enmity in our families, anonymity in our workspaces, tension in our communities.
I wonder about war, occupation, poverty, racism.
I wonder if we are willing to commit ourselves to this path — cleansing our hearts of ego, of lust, of anger.
I wonder if we are ready to do so as individuals, do so as communities, do so as nations.
I wonder if we are willing to put our swords back in their sheath.
I wonder if we are ready to look at each other in the eye, and see our own humanity reflected in one another.
If we do. When we do. We would be fully human. And then, just maybe, divinity would be fully present.”
~ Rumi

Molana

Sunday Poem – Once You Taste Freedom You Can Never Go Back

Once you have tasted
The freedom that lies
Beyond the prison
Of drama and
Self obsession
You can never go back
A butterfly can never
Go back to being
A chrysalis.

There is such joyous relief
At no longer
Living
Like 
Pavlov’s dog.
It changes 
Everything.

There are only two
States,
A prisoner
Or a free man.

The bars are all
On the inside.

The prisoner had no choice.
He didn’t choose the prison
It was imposed on him
And in his innocence
He believed all he was told
We all did.
Everyone is innocent
At first.

But when the prisoner realises
He is in prison
He has a choice.

That choice is
The most important choice of his life.
To stay in prison
Or to dismantle, brick by brick
Bar by bar
Guard by guard,
Slowly or instantly,
The entire prison
That has held him 
All these years.

And if that is his choice,
Once he has tasted the 
Freedom that lies
Beyond the prison
He will never return.

Such is the journey
Of inner freedom.
It cannot be given
It must be chosen.

Hastings, UK, at Dawn. Such calmness.
Hastings, UK, at Dawn. Such calmness.

the artist is one lives in the cracks

the artist is one who
transcends self interest
yet still has a body
to feed.

the need to express
what lies within
is not an option
but a compulsion.

for those millions
of artists
driven but not paid
life is an endless
struggle
between the muse
and the mouth.

the artist is outside 
most things
dancing to a tune
only they can hear
but others can feel.

they speak of the things
only lunatics speak
they paint visions
seen only by those
in the asylum
they express
the darkness
most can never speak of

yet the artist lives on the edge of
the world and

there is no place for them,
by their very nature
they do not fit in.

so they live in the cracks 
and the holes,
they live in the gaps
like a flower that
grows
on the sidewalk,
in between the thousands 
of marching feet.

it doesn’t take much to crush
the artist
because most of them
are almost crushed anyway.

but,
when the artist
truly captures
an expression of something
in a unique moment
all the pain
and the sorrow, and the struggle

vanish like an
early morning mist
met by the sun.

maybe the artist is doing it
because all the others
can’t.

 

Kavi Jezzie Hockaday – artist…poet, musician, photographer, author, madman, transformation coach, outsider…

the love you have for yourself

if
the love you have for yourself
is based on some condition
on some value
or something you have to achieve

you will be
forever reaching out
for a ghost.

if
the love you have for yourself
is given without condition
without concern for
success or failure,
unattached to anything
this world
can offer,
the kind of love
a mother has
for a baby
as it is born

your world
will be filled
with such a peaceful joy
it will light
the night sky
and show you the way
to your
greatest purpose.

the love you have for yourself
will bring the divine
to earth, when it is
unconditional.

crystal and flower

 

 

Body Is a Ruthless Teacher

The body is a ruthless teacher.
It has no compassion
It has great intelligence and it follows nature
But on its own it is cold and merciless.

My illness was a relentless teaching
Beyond survival
Into the realm of mind and spirit.

First it came for my body
And turned my physical life inside out.
Everything I had consumed before my teacher arrived
Was suddenly
Like poison, setting me on fire
And dragging me down
Into confusion.

Then it came for my emotion
And it tore me open
And smashed down all the walls
I had hidden behind
All my life.
It was like a dam burst open
And pain poured out.

Next it came for my mind
And it took a blade to
Every belief in anything I had ever had.
It dug at the very foundations of my self
And I fell into the void
As if dead.

And then it came for my spirit
And it taught me
Love without condition,
Without reason and without cause.
It taught me to let go
When I hold on

And most of all it taught me the great irony
Of being in the world but not of it.

Don’t let anyone tell you the body isn’t spiritual.
The body, friend, is your guru.

It teaches us all, one way or another, sooner or later.
I am still grateful for my teaching,
And not a day goes by I am not reminded
Of it.
My guru goes with me always and everywhere.

cowboy 2 copy