The Art of Being

All this conditioning
This mental slavery
With its righteous beliefs
And rigid opinions
Obscures the natural light within
From pouring forth into the world

In this rather sorry state
Everything about us is functional
And almost robotic
There is no art of being
No inner beauty or radiance

A great sadness must arise
An inner intuition, a hunch,
That there is something more
It doesn’t matter what you call it

But it sets off a cascade
A movement from within
And an unravelling of the knots
That bind us to ourselves
A cleansing of the psyche
A great detoxification

Oh! this is the beauty of it all
The gradual unfolding of the wings
The waking up of the sleeping one
Don’t be in such a hurry
To get to the destination
There is no destination
Only mystery and falling
Into the unknown

This is the art of being.

Photo by Javardh on Unsplash

Let Love Meet Itself

I have given up living on the surface
Accepted that I am no longer able
To speak in the old way
All it is now is poetry and beauty
My talk quickly turns to love
And I get frustrated listening
To words of avoidance
And self deception

A word to the wise
If we should meet
You and I
Let it be like this
Two silences
Love meeting love
Emptiness to itself
Let our presence
Say it all
And our mouths
Say nothing.

Stop Imagining You Are Separate

Sometimes just take a moment

And try and view the harshness of life

As a doorway through which

You can see the divine

It might be almost impossible to do this

Through the rigid beliefs

And the broken heart

But even the trying itself,

When done with sincerity,

Is the grace you seek

It is not outside us

It IS us

Stop imagining you are separate

From everything.

No Destination But This

Mind, arising in consciousness
Considers all things to be dual
It seeks completion in
Destination thinking
And applies its belief
To spiritual freedom

You, as consciousness,
Believe the mind’s stories
And in that attachment
Is a grave error

The error
Of freedom as a destination
There is no destination
There is the path
The walking in presence
One step at a time
One day at a time
One month, year and life at a time

When the path becomes
Easier and less rugged
It becomes a kind of destination
But it is still a path
That is walked
There is no imagination
That arrival at some place
Will solve the problem.

Photo by Victoriano Izquierdo on Unsplash

The Appearance of Form

If I could sum up the history of our species
In one line it would be thus:

The Tale of the Imaginary Other

It would be a saga
Of unnecessary war and conflict
Of jealousy and greed

Friend, you and and I are one
Don’t let the individual masks we wear
Trick you into believing we are separate
There is but one consciousness
One god, utter unity of all that is
The appearance of form
Is not separation
It is the appearance of form
Everything is connected to the same web

The appearance of form
Is god’s delight

We would do well to remember that.

The Endless Search

Through dark forests he crawled
Across vast oceans
Torn and broken
He searched and searched
In mysterious valley
And the highest mountains
He peered into space
Open mouthed at the sheer majesty
Of eternity as it circled above him
Onwards he went
Searching and searching
More and more desperate

‘What are you searching for?’
Asked a farmer he met on the road.

’There is something missing,
I feel incomplete
Surely we are all looking for this completion
Isn’t this what drives us?’

‘You are misguided my friend,
This is a myth perpetuated
By the blind and foolish
By the ignorant and wayward
By those who seek power over you
And by your own arrogant mind.’

‘But without this sense of incompletion
What is the point of life
Why would we go on
What is the purpose
There must be something more?’

‘Friend, you are scratching an eternal itch
You have surrendered yourself
To the wrong master
Your own mind and its tyrannical ways
You are now enslaved
And held captive
In a myth of incompletion
Whereby you eternally search
And die unfulfilled.

Give up all this searching
And look with your inner eye
The mechanism of lack
That is at work
Just sit there and see like buddha
For one moment

In this simplicity is the truth.’

We never left the garden
And became incomplete
We went unconscious
And drunk with knowledge
And got lost in thought.

We Became God but…

A mighty wave crashed
In our quadrant
Of the universe
A wave of energy
A galactic pulse
Of unknown origin
That rippled into eternity
Broke through the space time continuum
Disappeared into a vortex
And reappeared in another dimension
To say it was unspeakably mind shattering
Would not do it justice

Few people on earth noticed
Or cared
They were busy on Instagram
Posing for selfies
Or fighting
Looking down
Face down
Head down
Consciousness lost in form
Distracted and mesmerized

It’s understandable of course
Life demands our full attention
And swallows up all our awareness
And we forget our true nature
We forget where we came from
We forget our cosmic roots
Our star past

And we imagine we are separate
From all creation
How alone are we humans
Cut off from life by the very mind
That can bear witness to life
Our gift is our curse
While we remain in the sleep state
In truth
Conditioning is our curse
For it blinds us and blinkers us
And imprisons us
Convincing us we are separate
And above all creation
We became god
But we can’t handle the responsibility

So when the mighty wave sweeps through the universe
We miss it
Or just don’t feel it
Or ignore it
And carry on pretending
Everything is normal
When clearly it is not.