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Saturday, December 31, 2011

change physical body 12/31/11

Study your own

personal physiology thoroughly.

Learn how to specifically focus

with each bodily usage.

Do lots of conscious reps,

done ever so slowly.

Total rebuild and replenish

of each muscle group,

separately but together,

that is, not a muscle group

working in isolation.

Lots of exercise in water,

doing extended motions

to get quick twitch up.

Study self-video

to refine movement awareness.

Stretch and flex.

Drink fluids throughout.

Set up a notational program

with transitional timelines

from day one,

so that there is a slow migration

from the initial state,

from one reality to another.

Embrace the joy of movement.

Move away from

competition formats

as a top priority reference frame.

Gain a self-permission experience

as if the intention

of the child of you

is experiencing play

that expresses the soul

of your being....

Friday, December 30, 2011

funny thing (haiku) 12/30/11

the funny thing is

things I always felt were true

turned out to be so

Thursday, December 29, 2011

Dog perspective: profiling owners 12/29/11

Humans say,

“choose your parents wisely.”

Well, I’m not exactly sure

what that specifically means

but it’s my segway into,

“dogs, choose your owners wisely.”

Here is a rough list

of keen things to be aware of

for potential owners

as “owners” is another one

of those human terms

that I have also dog adapted.

To start with, look for extroverts.

They get distracted easily

by other humans

and therefore you have freer reign

right under their cheery yappy faces.

Next, find people who have glasses

of moderate strength

so that when the glasses are off,

which they will do frequently,

they don’t see well and therefore

you have better access to stuff

on the ground all around

much less

they don’t know exactaully

(hmm, that’s a funny word!

Well, maybe it not!)

Anyways, so they don’t know

where you are

and what you are up to!

Also, and maybe this is

at the top of your list,

find owners, mainly the one

who usually feeds you,

who also has

somewhat limited motor skills.

Why? Well, these are the people

who spill foodstuff

off the kitchen counters

onto the floor with great

and continued regularity.

They are clueless to notice

as you discreetly maneuver yourself

into chow down positions

on the casual sweep

to a new position

of distant observation

for said activity to continue.

Remember, the better your nose,

they more important to notice this

in your potential owner.

And if it is a family with kids involved,

try for a family that has twins

or multiple amount of young kids

close in age

so that they can’t really put

much attention on you

in the melee that is at hand

as a daily basis.

Also the more kids

at these younger ages,

the greater the mess potential

for you to rove and devour.

But I am not saying

you want to be totally ignored

by the adult owner per se,

for you do want some regular exercise,

petting attention and bonding,

but, food rules!

Here is my secret formula

to doggie-dom success.

Learn how to use your body

to pet their hands.

And I mean all of your body,

from head to toe!

Get this down good

and you can be really sloppy

in other ways

and still make out like a bandit!

Now, some of the fallback blessings

to hope for are,

an adequate space

for private day time peace and quiet,

nighttime sleep-alongs

with human accompaniment,

people who adventure

on a somewhat weekend basis,

and of course,

one persnickety owner

who is hell bent on vitamins

and positive vet health care

for yours truly.

And lastly,

always work on facial expressions

and eye-to-eye contact,

feigned attentiveness,

it seems to matter,

and very lastly,

it is better to understand and respond

to the tone of their voices

rather than the instructions

they seem to constantly give out!

Happy life, dog-on-it!

and thrive, buddy!

p.s. always compare notes

at the dog park

if and when possible,

you know, when they’re over there

gabbing away in a group

with each other.

And they think you’re over there

smelling each others’ asses . . .

Wednesday, December 28, 2011

first time (haiku) 12/28/11

well sure I have friends

who have been through stuff like this

but so, I haven’t

Tuesday, December 27, 2011

A knock at the trauma door 12/27/11

Whatever chord I struck

to release

such a tumultuous comeback,

I want to strike

that nervy chord

again and again

until it is not a delivery,

spent on explosion in reaction

but a blessed response

of piggyback potential

as an active inclusion,

and not in the repose of dismissal

but as an invitation

to join and blossom.

So as, it is not put forth

as a means

of insularity and protection

but beckons

a confluence and immersion

in the spirit of creation.

For beneath

that hidden self shudder

and the appearance

of observable recoil,

there is a boiler room

steeped in radiance,

worthy of constant visitation

until there is

no walking distance

or lag time

but the just

of straightforwardness basking.

And that there

becomes a space

of neither here nor there

but that here just is.

And as for then,

as it becomes this now,

you are everywhere you go

and you take that outpour

with you, as you soulfully

are for the sharing

as it melts into oneness.

Monday, December 26, 2011

Seeding (haiku) 12/26/11

Seeding each moment

is self-permission sought through

every circumstance

Sunday, December 25, 2011

this vow is from beyond * 12/25/11

From this illusion

of temporality,

Karma back-intentions

whatever my focus.

Ongoing, all of experience

seems to blossom before

self-consciousness abides.

Reciprocity feeds my senses.

Objectification, as a paradox,

binds me to untimely accounts.

Value extends me

and extracts from me.

Care beckons me to respond.

Pain is the punctuation

in my pronouncement of logic.

Sorrows are conclusions

that sustain in me.

Grief is a false god

of rationalization.

All stages of identification

are my wardrobe

for projections of this moment.

Fever and fervor show me

true colors I otherwise

do not see.

Calm urges me

to give handouts

of peace to others.

Hunger gives me

emphasis to seek.

Happy is a reflection

without summary

sharing soul.

Confrontation is my method

of tumultuous embrace.

Responsibility is risk

made real ongoing.

Death is a fulcrum

finally realized.

Choice is a jester

posing as my ego.

Being has no boundaries.

What lives is what I sense

as history in passing.

What dreams me,

lives within and beyond.

Knowing is a midwife

birthing me

as her form

of personal service

made worthy.

Yet, truth has no form

and does not pose.

My solemn vow

is consciousness

as gratitude,

as we are all intended

in oneness

to live this vow


Saturday, December 24, 2011

First consciousness (haiku) 12/24/11

‘feeling follows breath’

is first consciousness expressed

we were born that way

Friday, December 23, 2011

Motion is meditation * 12/23/11

In a quantum sense,

all things are in motion.

Actually, all is motion

but identification

introduces us

to naming things.

Experience introduces us

to interpretations,

using things

in our mental equivalency

mindset ways.

We hold as constant

by sensory observation

what is actually in motion

but our primary methods

depend upon freeze frame

references to claim consciousness

about whatever experience

symbolically interprets for us.

In meditation,

we strive for stillness.

But in actuality,

we move towards immersion,

into the oneness in motion

or the oneness

of very subtle motion.

The ecstasy without

the details as distraction

offer by experience.

The practice of linearity

offends us

by creating a sense of choice

as a means of entry,

when simultaneity

and confluence

are at the root source.

Meditation is motion

and we are always

in all ways in motion.

But consciousness,

as a method of experience,

is the trial by fire . . .

Thursday, December 22, 2011

First order (haiku) 12/22/11

the first order is

lose red tape mentality

try being present

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Moral imagination 12/21/11

What is it to see

beyond what is agreed upon

and sighted,

to live beyond

the positionality as so stated,

to find no character of means

before you arrive,

to strip search the implications

after one’s presence is felt,

to find moral as a deep pool

and not as a sergeant of arms,

to have crayons for coloring

coming from the heart,

to seek harmony

rather than stance,

to experience expanse

rather than to justify claims,

to have permission

for further presence

rather than promptness as personage,

to breath in something we can live

rather than extol something to agree,

to discover that virtue

has found us and not vice versa,

to oz the richness

rather than depict the role,

to be the dance

that music searches for,

to be besiege in oneness

as after, during, and before . . .

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Holiday fanfare (haiku) * 12/20/11

holiday fanfare

cooking with family home

visits with delight

Monday, December 19, 2011

play the death card * 12/19/11

Go ahead,

play the death card.

Make your dying

be a peace of you.

Lay the death card down,

with every breathing out.

Oh, and then blind draw

each inhalation back

into further aliveness.

This is a life procession,

like the hand over fist

of a vertical climb,

with a still point of presence

for a high beam.

You can meticulously watch

your grip and release

of each breath's pulling

into life's next stations.

Breath arrivals

and breath departures,

there to witness,

as a secondary syncopation.

It is a metropolis of meanings,

in a mountainous terrain

of activities before you,

as if you were

at eighteen thousand feet

above the sea level of you.

Notice each movement

is in slow motion flow

or otherwise labored.

It is the tai chi

of mundaneity . . .

Your witness enraptured

in simple movement,

radiance engulfed

in simple expression release . . .

Here are the exquisite skills

of small child presence,

returned and replenished,

within each breath forward.

Go ahead,

play that death card,

in your childlike way.

Go ahead,

make my day . . .

Sunday, December 18, 2011

Much of life (haiku) * 12/18/11

fog to mist to clouds

intimacy to distance

relationships too . . .

Saturday, December 17, 2011

value extract 12/17/11

Value, on its own,

is only a vendor,

a comforting grip

on a desire plane lute.

Value is like a small prayer rug

in the temple

of personalized superstition,

a flag waving ceremony

needing a self storyline.

Value, for value’s sake,

is potential web

in the web sack

of a soulless spider.

Friday, December 16, 2011

feel differently (haiku) 12/16/11

we all hear the call

if death is nearby calling

each, differently

Thursday, December 15, 2011

the delivery of the gift 12/15/11

All the people

I haven't met

were necessary

to my state of being,

even if represented

by one less petal

or one less thorn.

Every moment of manifestation,

no matter how indirect,

still reflects all of the universe.

This road,

that each person travels,

is filled

with incidental revelations.

Everywhere each aha

may appear to change

or alter the wrapping paper

of self suppositions,

to give or take away

from appearances and projections

of self in the world,

but none of this

affects the essential gift

that is brought forth

as the spirit

of this being,

being . . .

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Family loss (haiku) 12/14/11

still from time to time

the pain of family loss

comes, out of the blue

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

dying in full view 12/13/11

(what death looked like) **** (what death meant)

a syntax of bones **** under a voluminous tent of skin

blood running faintly **** a trail of liquid mules, over the same million miles, in sweet time

undying thought **** a raging habit, without the costumes of reason

no mirrors sought **** hunger leaves, before the plate is empty

a reach **** through with time, no plan in mind

inward sky **** without horizon line

enough has been said **** the body as tongue, is limp

end of breath **** the space between the drumming reveals itself

listening without reverie **** soundless, passing itself off as silence, is golden . . .

Monday, December 12, 2011

facing myself (haiku) 12/12/11

coffee or a pill

or someone else I could phone

but no, it’s just me

Sunday, December 11, 2011

the cold stone of soul 12/11/11

In love, deeply in love

but yet still vacantly feeling

the cold stone of my soul.

Once again,

sucker punched by experience.

Baited into an intimacy,

only to expose

more emotional vulnerability

in blind-spot ways.

Oops, a gut wrenching trap door

unexpectedly opens

then liquid feelings

spilled all over

the relationship floor below.

Note to myself;

have to bonsai

my blurted intimacy expressions

out to the world of closeness.

For then,

I am my own sweaty shears

of limiting self-criticism.

My apparently irrational assumptions

are stem barbed

before they top blossom.

Somehow, I seem to cut

into my growing towards the light.

The vase of me gets larger

with cuttings of feelings

upon anyone’s approach.

At first glance I appear to myself

as a small weed

in a passage patch.

No need for a second glance

is expected

from anyone in passing.

Yes, I am organic,

but in an ever diminishing way.

And like a sinking stone of soul,

I am always falling within

at a rate too steep

for even barnacles of light

to gather and grow.

It is too remote

for even an emotional subterfuge

to provide for a glance,

for anyone in passing.

A soul-stone sunk in the so cold

that if grasped by another

would cause immediate

emotional frostbite to the other.

A soul-stone so cold to me

that I forget about warmth,

even as a memory.

A cold that is its own religion.

A cold that has no signature

legible from even shadow.

A cold that is my soul,

feeling alone,

free falling,

as this,

the cold stone of soul . . .