rules are a mind-game 2/28/18

rules are the billboards of habits,

both kept or ignored.

their mind game is a cover,

unless spoken with inspiration or simple motivation.

achievement is a form of profound distraction,

easily undertaken as grounds for rule making.

if order is the account then all is eventually lost.

it is a disenfranchisement of self to be orderly.

spontaneity is cohesion for the carriage of being.

both worlds are simultaneously occurring,

while one is grounding, the other is the dressing.

go-figure happens all of the time.

be thankful that much is on automatic

yet be aware that much of that can go unconscious.

self intersession as willfulness does not get it to be real.

drawnness blesses, drivenness is eventual disappointment.

nothing underwhelms more then the lost of zeal.

rules from the heart have less of individual self

and more of the introduction to the collective,

more of self-integration into the flow of life.

feel the air, the gravity, the animation of being,

the confluence of others, the quantum of all matter,

the inter-dimensional texture of living.

rules are rituals of reoccurrence losing their cutting edge.

if oppression is the guide then reaction will surely follow.

this is all very private from within oneself.

the nomenclature of rules as dictatorial exists,

and like I said, the mind-game is the cover for that.

true order honors by flow

yet most rules enforced are produced by fear in reaction.

how strange it all is,

that mother nature breaks all of our rules by disaster

and yet we come to honor by our responses.

even if there appears to be only self-serving in deeds.

maybe survival is a reset for the use of rules

and the opportunity to be more conscious in doing so . . .

relinquish the audience of being 2/27/18

whatever it’s going to be,

I skim the sensory surface.

I get seated in an understanding,

none of which deeply applies

but my life has guardrails,

as immediate recognition is my religion.

it seems unrealization is my addiction,

to make decisions as if a sign of relevance occurred

yet thriving on superficial confirmation

and depiction for audience approval.

this begged assumption starts with separatism

and an insatiable need to reconnect with false sincerity

and not know any better but to name it and story.

authenticity is an accident but when it happens

I am reduced to phenominalizing post hoc

as the currency of the immediate moment.

I am the placard of animation feverishly waving

from where I am stolen from myself.

I want to give you reason

and the apparencies of circumstance

in exchange for deeper vibrational presence between us.

make me admit my truth by being beyond, as you are,

then I convince myself by what I see in you,

knowing it is me, coming forth out of self permission

that you foster by being in a deeper way, my reflection.

but I would never say that to you to your face

none of us actually would,

it’s so outside the format declared.

so much is beyond the grasp of happening awareness.

the movement gathers no traction to be poignant

but it deeply is without the need of confirmation ever.

my every moment features

the supreme energetic awareness of birth

as well as the grand vibrational summary in death.

neither now plays straight away.

I find it shocking

that each moment is the whole two movies

and yet I have to watch it over and over,

advancing the script, looking for the subtlety of source.

I would ask you to pray for us

but that reinforces an ignorance we seem to thrive upon.

so if I realize that you are born

and are dying in each moment before me,

I make the possibility of sacredness come alive in me

not to honor or feel sorrow

but to also live and died richly so

without the assumed drama and the run off of claims.

this quality of intimacy has no audience.

I am more of a pouring presence

and we are a liquidity that reality cannot formally feature.

once accomplished, I realize our oneness outside of time.

I wish the friction-to-flame with those who are present

and relinquish the audience of being.

no more the delivery of sensory as prominent,

just forever fluid, coming as if channeled pouring through,

diversity in the sea of oneness flowing . . .

a case for ‘be’ 2/26/18

you need to ‘be’ at what you are compelled to do,

allowing drawnness to be the delivery

as passion set into breath that feeds the whole of you,

working with the all of it, without the need for details.

particulars escort the confluence as occurring.

what looks like timing is actually happening

yet no audience needed for acknowledgment.

each second of being is only and always that way.

radiance meeting unseen radiance is our dance,

without this as vision, we only have sidedness to guide us.

‘is’ will care for its own since we tend to be ‘it’ bound.

all of the ‘it’ are only posers, selfies in our own eyes.

we freeze-frame the now in just that fashion.

please know there are no selfies of ‘be’ ever taken.

self-consciousness need not apply as relevant.

‘be’ only channels through the instrument of an us.

so do ‘be’ and not be ‘do’ . . .

rituals of oneness 2/25/18

the dogs of knowledge fight over the meat of us

personal interest is splattered in many directions

the walls of awareness are covered in reactive memories

can hear the howlings inside us as we are the captives

feel for the struggle of breathing clean air

an intake without oppression as the invading smell

why have a mind if refuse is all that is offered

everything ingested seems to have a mind game to it

touch is like an island of dream-redemption, so far away

disaster, as an awakening, is the only prayer we honor

graphic and over-demonstrated seems to appeal

the act-outs gather in a collective force of concern

the one-time audience doesn’t matter, as now players do

blessedly, there is no score but for wellbeing and survival

what has happened to common mind outside of chaos?

concern, whatever the distance makes the oneness real

so the teapot of alarm gets sipped,

every empathy cup is nourishing

we are always the rituals of oneness

yet to be declared . . .

a conclusionary existence 2/24/18

we are deeply ensconced in a mind-bog

a closet of conclusions that firmly adore us

a threadbare wardrobe of verbal weaponry

amoebas of thought-consequence

that breed a projected landscape of conclusions

a knighthood of reactive-defense in residence

we all speak conclusion as if it is native tongue

a woven carpet of premises for protection’s call

where by tone only escorts the technicalities raised by talk

dueling in syllables as conclusions are fencing with foils

conclusions confront the now to be made over

into that which was already perceived from the past

expectations join forces to support that cause

spontaneity is an outlier in demand but facing resistance

unrehearsed as a state of being is hard to come by

conclusions live a migratory life day by day

in a state of appraisal, as an acquired skill, that lives within

conclusions take stances, impose perceptions as reign

hard to be free from within as conclusions abound

conclusion-speak is a way of life, superficially successful

in that light, we are a species kept in conclusion’s zoo

free spirits may find it a bit difficult to take flight then land

everything identifiable is already spoken for by conclusions

everything legal is as if by law a conclusion’s paradise

yet conclusions do not produce the nectar we all seek

we search to sip the beyond even if as to drink alone

new thought has no home-base residence to speak of

new feel is only a diary entry done without the use of words

eventually conclusionary is but burdensome to carry on

we need a new language base usage that does not conclude

how can that be?

a life beyond the syntactical basis of conclusion’s origin

could that ever be vocal in nature?

could language usage ever be only a capella-additive?

where agreement isn’t a mindful decision but more so a be?

how deep would we have to go to get to where

we are that consciousness of one?

a conclusionary existence preforms as prohibitive to that.

maybe conclusionary is mindful existence

while living is more the art of feelings in coalesce

set free . . .

experience of the experiencer 2/23/18

the experience of the experiencer

and behind all that

what wide gaze would that take

not wide like 360

but deep-wide

as dimensions generally unrevealed

got to

so I get the feel and demeanor of experience

the preoccupation with highs and lows

the storyboard, the story line

and the reality production to fill the day

sure, there is a great sense to the highs

and a deeper sense to the lows

hoping they don’t compensate for each other

as a way of life

as in living for the highs to avoid the lows

what land of me creates that journey ongoing?

no not that,

I am now interested in the experiencer

more importantly, the sensory intake goes to where?

the animation fills what of me by my doing?

is this the payoff for expectations?

is this the formula for my happy state?

all of these reality techniques to fill my day

but who of me

sits somewhat behind this the experiencer.

there are remarks made occasionally from back there.

some sort of surmise

and sometimes cynical responses.

they, those that have voices

seem like more than one of me.

lots of viewpoints interjected into the ongoing

but not caring or caught-up in the obviousness.

it all seems like old hat to them,

like party fill-blah

or on the edge of boredom’s account of living.

sort of solemn

but also earnest and wishfully caring.

when I catch a remark from back there,

it does not start a dialogue.

I seem to be invisible

and yet constantly talked about.

I have to go there to hear them,

more of the time.

they are so seasoned at experience

that it is a given.

a yawner, a view beyond the worth of theme.

just shuffling along in character as contracted by others.

they don’t have much need for most of those people.

they come out in voice more

when I am alone and quiet.

not that the other doesn’t occur

but I am less attentive then.

so here we are

and I am onto their version of my living.

they have vested interest to leverage

for which I have discovered

by my drivenness to act out!

my sense of this

is a form of frustration turned into venting.

usually I can figure what and where

this has origin in me.

at some point

they are all disgruntled on my experience bus

they are all sort of reality buzzards

in search of a meal

rarely would they want a conversation outside of inner me

I feel safe about that

but I wanted more and deeper insight

these people as experiencers of me are platitudinous

they are just leaches and pirates readily at hand

I wanted even deeper of a view

I wanted to connect with the highflyers and the inspired

those places in me

that come out of nowhere to be present

they come to produce experience

from some place else

maybe even outside of time

but still get what’s going on

they are not on the take

but more causal in nature

they want for me to be or do

and move me accordingly

so where are they all from

and how do they know me?

there are no introductions

but it all is too a familiar given

they get me to act like me

but for them as me

maybe they are me

and this is a lifetime of discovery

anyways, back there experience has no frontal

it seems like a speeding conveyor belt without particulars

just all moving along and energetically happening

hard to experience in a traditional way

sort of like standing in a fast moving stream of water

and experiencing the water that hits me

but also aware of the water

going rapidly past around me

can’t use direct contact as my means of knowing

it’s kind of abstract

if I want to make it like it is here

but it so feels like home

without the head-trip to boot

it’s method is so foreign,

I don’t want to call it experience

maybe a knowingness without proof

but lots of feeling

when I am there

the time thing seems very useless, not real

I could be lifetimes in the making

and now, the presentation

little of it feels like input

but mostly it is coming out of me

I could say fantasy

but that is too confusing to claim

it is more like a wide scope on now

without time restraints

in some respects

not even the same person of me or personality

but still me in some deep and significant way

generally the experiencer gets suckered into a now context

and that’s all that matters

in a seen it done it been there way.

this is not like that

and not restrained in that kind of way

it is hard to be a person

with this sense of depth awareness

one could be crazy to bring it up in-mention terms

but behind the experience of the experiencer is happening

do we ever have permission

to dwell in awareness there?

doubt it, can’t say it is boring,

more questions than answers

it kind of sneaks up on you

if you are inclined that way

most would not give it a second thought

and not sure that thinking is really the way to go.

maybe it is a mind-fade of sorts

and a sneak-witness of self

either way, it is rich beyond what experience offers

even though the claim is

you are only experiencing anyway

I sense that far enough back there,

no words can account

you definitely have entry

if you can find the time

that exists outside of time . . .

making landfall 2/22/18

making landfall in my heart

been on a sweep without any floor

motion sickness yet standing still

budding roses that never come to bloom

up for air just another negative fragrance reminder

the shadow of habits ever embracing

walls closing in by standing firm

security as if in a sense of clutching

finally the mind-fill is at bay

making landfall in my heart

discovery is a change in light perspective

all of motion surrounds in the glow of sound

rootedness is ever working at the art of expression

the sheep of habits are grazing in a golden meadow

ever the ascension step by step onward

all of structure reflecting glorious rays of insight

meeting new moments in a warmth of embrace

thoughts takes a seat while heart evolves the dancer

beautiful (haiku) 2/21/18

all beauty captured

as if by conclusion’s work

denies its essence

promise from the focus land 2/20/18

promise from the focus land,

feeding on images before me.

naming all the familiars has a calming effect.

settling into a soft boredom.

curiosity gets the visual pointer out,

declaring foreground and back.

conclusions register as bland.

even wind-aided as a visual enterprise

does not hold attention for very long.

idle landscape overwhelms with the obvious.

any animation gets a stir of short interest.

there is almost a mind-fade

as the exterior world passes the lack of interest test.

mesmerized is the external visual holding pattern,

thoughts as images juxtapose.

latent with memories gets a chance at rediscovery.

feelings paddle along in the mix.

there is potential looming

but it functions in waste-high boredom.

the list is checked at to what to do.

listless tends to organize at this time.

any fallback option could come to the surface.

but then, oh a surprise,

a deeper focus asks,

who of me is doing being bored?

taking focus back into intrigue.

who of me sort of offers that up

as the only option at hand?

wait, how does that work?

how do I do being bored?

where in me is that coming from?

tracking back, what else is there going on?

hanging out in this room of me

made up of assumptions that I hardly address.

some sense of me holds that all together as a constant,

a gather sense of self living in conclusions made

and supposedly spoken for from within.

there must be dozens of requests denied in here.

nothing spontaneous could happen.

everything is slow drying invisible self-goo.

how does this boredom get made?

and why am I housing it so strongly?

well it’s definitely made from conclusions

and they are kept current as some sort of protection,

some sort of don’t go or don’t do or don’t think about it.

it’s hard for a new thought to have a life in here.

it is as if my bags are packed to go nowhere

and that appears to be the secret but evident plan.

damn, I’m just going to lay back here

and watch boredom do its thing.

this is remarkable and embarrassing.

this has probably been here for, decades.

where and how did I learn this boredom thing so well?

I am self-stunned.

I am buzzing and nothing external is happening.

I am going to re-watch the look out of my eyes

with the whole internal mind game at play

and discover who is doing what for me internally.

who would have thought that focus was such a gift.

this is a deeper layer, like a meta-discovery.

this is travel but in a new and different way.

there are surprises and discoveries all around.

it’s like I have a tree-house and a spy-cam

all inside me and all the time I need to play.

what is happening to my boring life?

I have a river raft to float above the boredom

and a sky hawk as internal to watch over my shoulder-me

and the inner journey is on . . .

comparative truth (haiku) 2/19/18

comparative truth

is a crutch to walk further

but still in circles