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Friday, November 30, 2012

the peace inside chaos * 11/30/12

Of course,
there is no such thing
. . . . as chaos.
Chaos is a subjective referential term
that reflects not only the view
of the observer,
but their depiction
of what they are holding in frame.
Chaos, as a term of agreement,
requires that you place yourself
into this view in summary agreement
with what is already stated
as the relevant view.
This also means that you
have to see it as such also.
Which, initially may seem
appropriate and correct.
It is sort of like the term noise
in that there is a subjective view
and the work
gone into the interpretation
of that view surmises that
this is noise or really
an undetermined source
for the sound’s cause,
as to what that cause actually is
and how it is doing that sounding
that is left unsolved.
Chaos is much the same.
What it is, how it is what it is,
and how did it get to be that
by the rules of its nature
to appear as such
are left unresolved
but a conclusion is made
for your consigned agreement.
Expectations can be happy with
either term, chaos or noise,
because they are
conclusive and dismissive,
without much further effort of need
for a shift of perspective.
It’s chaos! Who cares beyond that?
Deductions aside,
once something has been named,
it is somewhat impotent
to keep it in a curious view.
Well maybe the extent of it,
or how one is to react to it,
chaos or noise, is now a bother
of insistence to be avoided.
For example, I have a view,
I have a summary name
for that view,
and I am done with that
as interesting
beyond that account.
To me, this is not
making peace with chaos,
in particular.
Sound, I am more amused
but less drawn to source.
People in chaos,
is so openly rewarding.
A call to arms,
to bring a different set
of eyes and ears
and hands and source,
for efforts to the contrary
of just minutes before.
I can be taken up from within
and not know the me
who is in gear and directing me.
It is a chicken soup remedy
for all of emotionality,
a whiff of something sharp
under my desensitized nose,
a stretch of heart and mind,
the appearance of override
and a chiseled focus that otherwise
has limited life and opportunity.
Why do I have to have act out
as my permission slip
to be at home
in the midst of all of this,
when at the core of all of this
within me, is a serenity
coming forth worth living
and dying for.
Can’t I just deeply admit
to being and know that
and know love
in the same breath?
Making peace with chaos is
as if it is a greeting card
inviting you
into the rest of your life
as a human being
and allowing yourself
the pleasure of loving it
no matter what form
it expresses
or expresses it . . .

Thursday, November 29, 2012

Our presence (haiku) * 11/29/12

we all come to know
that the true healing process
requires our presence

Wednesday, November 28, 2012

stillness * 11/28/12

Stillness, in its spreading vastness,
invites a full-blown pulse,
from a subtler plain to appear.
Stillness, beyond the pace
of its ever widening,
endlessly deepening tranquility,
possesses a presence,
without intrusion,
thick and rich, with refinement,
not even noting towards evident,
filled with sensory still-pointedness,
as a spectrum spread
without account as the measure.
Stillness, at the outset,
disrobed from description,
is uniformly thick with vacancy
throughout the ever-check,
thus the unraveling of concerns,
the death of chatter
and chatter back.
It is abundantly enveloping,
without curiosity or overcome.
Stillness, is a wardrobe
of empty-fullness,
yet breath,
without a spectator
nor accomplice.
It is mind meld
into soothing pool,
receptivity, as a giving forth,
softening into
a oneness presence . . .

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Light (haiku) * 11/27/12

light’s that medium
the human spirit dwells in,
bodies emitting

Monday, November 26, 2012

Self-consciousness * 11/26/12

steps into awareness,
through threshold,
as a chokehold, with no return.
Initially it is a foreign land,
producing impact and affect,
becoming mental retention
as prominence’s preoccupation.
This schism,
between self and consciousness
inflates with every senses’ input
keyed on comparative distinction.
Experience itself is
a posttraumatic stress syndrome
we have all come to live in,
away from our collective oneness.
Just as we view the light spectrum,
with limited expanse,
so also do we imbibe
the experiential continuum
with limited accessible range.
Look at what we do.
We claim land as if we conquered.
We conjure truth
as if it has prominence.
We falsify frame to proceed as self.
We language to spite empathy.
We mind-dominate as center stage.
We view with esthetic privilege
to satisfy a sense of witness means.
Named everything in reverence to us.
We convened as a science,
only to encounter ourselves
as the hidden agenda.
We made matter a short cut
to living in the enormity as truth.
We invented symbology, yet
authenticity has no substitutes.
The tea ceremony is not symbolic!
Hula is deepening heart expressing.
A true exhibitionist has no audience.
A wild animal in shock,
is in honesty with the now.
Enlightenment is self, consciousness,
without distractions or dismay.
If anyone transcends experience,
there is no coming back to tell.
And no one becomes enlightened,
just to experience it . . .

Sunday, November 25, 2012

People, drawn (haiku) * 11/25/12

knitted together
all peoples, drawn in some way
seeking the same light

Saturday, November 24, 2012

Four concepts of the apocalypse * 11/24/12

Four concepts of the apocalypse:
“I own something of worth.”
“I”, as if singularly self possessed as
the insolated, isolated, separated, I.
“Owned”, as if I really control
…. anything.
“Something” as if
a separation/identification
implies the truth of me.
“Worth”, as the value terrain
that I made up
is the contextual pretend of me.

Is this the hidden sabotage
of a lifelong
imprisonment subterfuge
as my self-directive?
“I own something of worth.”

A remark I could make out loud,
in public
and get an affirmative response.
It would appear
that I am a member of species
that somewhat consciously colludes,
even against itself . . .

Is this a product
of a grandiose
collective myopic solipsism?
(or what?)

Friday, November 23, 2012

secrets (haiku) * 11/23/12

those buried secrets
must not be kept from the light
each being needs growth

Thursday, November 22, 2012

Incantation from a plea * 11/22/12

I am asking you
to leap off of
the tallest structure
of your habitual self
and grow back
your birthright
sentient wings.

Make this perfectly clear
to yourself by repeating
this as incantation
until you are source-fully
present within it.

The essence of me consciously,
has no need for observation.
The isness of me forthcoming,
has no priorities.
The ever-now of me
has no cognitions presenting,
that are current.
My integrity-ethics wears
no medals of honor,
has no meaningful measures
of necessity, displaying in time.
My stream of words
arriving as speech is,
risk free channeled
from my beyond-within
before meaning is my sight.
My experiences are
the exhaust pipes
of this self-engine
that, truly, in its own right,
I hardly intimately know
but knows me well beyond
my story and my account.
My now is featureless
to my empty mind
and yet within me,
as I grow levity wings.
The sky of enormity
before me,
reigns supreme.
I leap into my embrace
and within, opens skyward.
Nothing has changed,
yet everything is less distractive
in a greater whole.
Expanse is method.
Vastness expresses me.
Light, coming from within,
flies my manifest of being.
Oneness is living,
as sentience abides . . .

Wednesday, November 21, 2012

Prayer in silence (haiku) * 11/21/12

what cannot be shared
makes up a prayer in silence
said with memories

Tuesday, November 20, 2012

Cellular consciousness * 11/20/12

Cellular consciousness,
has no words for it,
can’t take the cognitive ensemble
to it.
Therefore, we are in observation,
at a sensory distance
that constitutes visioning.
Once we are there,
there are fields within fields,
that we would have names for.
There are repeating patterns,
as we would come
to securely recognize.
There is a coherency of means.
A deep well song plays through
as intimate layers
are within layers
in revelation’s passage.
Within these mysteries
of focus as frame discovers,
there are integrations of efficiency,
effortlessly fluid-feedings
as our metaphors.
A oneness throughout
is withstanding
as witness to this. 
Cellular consciousness,
is personal vibrancy,
as our confluency of prayer . . .

Monday, November 19, 2012

forbidden (haiku) * 11/19/12

forbidden footnotes
the work of a quippy mind
in visible wink

Sunday, November 18, 2012

Thinking as pictures * 11/18/12

Thinking as pictures,
actually as movies,
feels like a deeper brain process.
Not something education
ever promoted or cultivated.
It feels more primal
but less disclosed.
These images,
on a overlay mind screen,
require a shift of visual field focus,
some recognition of imagery,
but not given to a story line up front.
A context, somewhat,
but not meaningful as resolve.
Maybe it’s just images
in a right brain way
and words in a left brain way,
in the daytime, meeting indiscreetly,
if at all,
while nighttime
as dreams and lucidly so,
presents illogical stories to place
but coherency
from beneath or behind,
surfacing with interest.
In some ways,
I can’t show you
unless I can take you there.
For my part, as the teller
communication versus conveyance,
and for you part, as the listener,
understanding versus empathy.
This may mean,
what I say,
how I say it
and from where within
do I speak.
This means for you,
what do you hear,
how do you embrace
what you hear,
and from where within
your listener
does it have residence.
And vice versa as conversation.
The deeper things I say,
need to well up
as if delved and yet just appear.
They have their strength
in the coming forth
and not so much
as arrived in or for certitude.
They have a mind life
before they have names,
ever so short
as that time might be.
It is like an underwater movie
of seals approaching a rocky coast.
The seals, viewed from underwater
have motion and are playfully fluid.
As they leap unto the rock
and now filmed from above the water,
they are viewed entirely differently,
almost as postured and posing.
Their movement
contributes quite differently
to the observation shift as input.
The seals were more animated images
or movies in the water,
and once on land,
they become more like words,
with declared meaning
and posturing deliberate intent.
Our dominant process
oppresses us
with rock reality,
while our dreams attempt to
bring us underwater truths.
Emotions, crammed into words,
are not comfortable in that medium.
Dreams are
more emotionally fulfilling,
but inadequately defined
as to understanding’s need.
Such is the journey,
senses to mind,
brain to heart,
feelings to meaning,
presence to oneness . . .

Saturday, November 17, 2012

real heroes 2 (haiku) * 11/17/12

real heroes in life
are before thought can occur
feelings run deeper

Friday, November 16, 2012

The self experiment *11/16/12

I have the self experiment
that will say out loud
in summary to others, as
“it is what it is”.
Of course, this is historical
and is somewhat conclusionary.
So the deeper frame
behind that being said is:
how it is that, it is what it is?
I mean, whom of me did I hire,
exclusively, to tend to
the external world,
that keeps tract
of all of this stuff
in a grand way
and then holds it for me,
in that surmise way?
And how is that holding done
in me, so that 
it became so strongly that way?
And who of me,
behind the me doing this
surmise and holding pattern,
made that be so?
And further more,
how did they get to be
in charge of directing
that who of me, to begin with?
Well and then, who really are
any of these of me?
And do they ever directly relate,
I mean really relate,
to my essential me?

(hall of mirrors,
voices in a stairwell,
treading water in a freezing lake,
saying lines
from someone else’s script,
vibes that make no sense,
wearing a lit miner’s headlamp
to discover my canary wings,
and socks that don’t feel
like they match,
by thickness to me!)

So here we are again,
every moment anew.
And the self experiment (?),
it is what it is  . . .

Thursday, November 15, 2012

old jokes (haiku) * 11/15/12

these silly old jokes
just keep running through my head
feels like inner joy

Wednesday, November 14, 2012

The richest conversation * 11/14/12

The richest conversation
had no spoken words.
Both beings
were internally speaking
and listening at the same time.
The language had a presence
but no verbal articulation.
The topic pronounced itself
in a shared co-created way.
There was evidence by awareness
and receivership
by acknowledgment,
swift and fluid,
swarming and singular,
octaves and crescendos,
embodiment and embrace.
It was revealing and immersive,
expansive without remains.
It was to and through,
yet thorough and meticulous.
Seed essence cross-displayed.
No conclusions were reached.
Living truth prevailed.
It became a song
that lingers in consciousness
and fills the air
with thought-form breaths,
buoyant and anew.

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

our love (haiku) * 11/13/12

our love is before
deepest feelings can concur
essence of the heart

Monday, November 12, 2012

Scarcity * 11/12/12

Scarcity is contextual
as a perceptual style.
It has a tablecloth view
made out of the past.
And on this table,
there is an empty sense
for the bountiful,
prodded by expectations,
based upon survivalistic memories.
The table itself is made up
of a given set
of live-to-tell-the-tale assumptions.
Gathering at the table
has its ongoing habits
with doggedness, though
almost unconscious momentum.
There is a place in the minds
of all of us
where this table resides.
We all, more or less, have ingested
what is served there.
Scarcity has philosophic eyes
that not only see what is there
but more so, most privately note,
what is indoctrinated, as missing.
Scarcity features shadow,
as motivation and substance,
as a permission to over grip.
Scarcity is the role, “I want”
in an actor, that doesn’t have.
Scarcity has,
a hard to interrupt horizon line
that features as mainstay, bleak.
It is not what is said
but where it is said from inside.
Scarcity has so much back-story
that basically will go untold.
Scarcity has a version of:
seen it, done it, been there,
which goes more like:
seen it in my dreams,
done it in my mind,
heard of people
who have been there.
Impoverishment may provide
an environment for scarcity
but not the reactive assumption.
Scarcity features absence,
claims of want or need,
and is beholding
to what is missing.
Surely, many people have less
but do not come from scarcity
as an employable mindset.
Scarcity has a working premise
that to them, is not debatable.
They have the lack of evidence
as positive proof.
Scarcity can have a muted note
of entitlement humming
way in the distant background,
somewhere just short
of a dream state.
It surely features the operatives
of desire, as desire is an action,
but lacks the consequences
of manifest as the result.
Therefore scarcity has a life,
is given a voice,
and we have all,
chimed in, humming,
if not singing,
the chorus of scarcity,
from that place within us,
yes, from there . . .