vortices of energy

Vortices of energy, that is what we are.

And then we add on our whims, our quirks, our absolutely righteous way of looking at things, our fears, our doubts, our loves.

We each become characters in our own story and bravely and defiantly and hesitantly confront ourselves while convinced we are confronting others.

We move in and out of character-logical disorder.

Vortices of energy assuming human face and passion and melodrama.

Vortices of energy, that is what we are,
temporarily assuming human form.

i gather we are

I gather we are to be sober intellectuals now
and not see angels or hear the muse.

I get it, I totally get it. I respect the brain
and the dispelling of all illusion.

But it's going a little too far.
Why tout one body part as supreme?
Might as well worship the penis or vagina.

The true brain is not that slab of meat
producing intellectual stand alone jabber,
pretending to skewer all story other than its own
and roast it on its Hitchens-Harris grill.

The true brain is the heart
that hears the kingdom of the dawn
and sees its genius, that is amazed
at the sight and sound of angels singing
of the life we are and are to become.

Keep the brain and all body parts
and let them assume their place
as part of the schema, not the totality.

We are the singing of the wisdom of the spheres
neither brain nor genitalia will ever comprehend.

the anger of the lord

The words, "the anger of the Lord," often puzzled me. Now I know why. When I was in a separatist (dualistic) state of consciousness, the words would conjure a vision of the Lord way over or way out there somewhere being angry at, after all, what he had created. It seemed rather petulant on the part of the Lord and lowered my esteem of him. Simplistic thinking on my part.

In open relational (nondualistic) consciousness, the phrase takes on a vastly different meaning. It is not someone, something out there being mad at me and us humans. It is that, as light beings daring to live in density, as dense matter, we are furtherest removed from the Source of light. Anger is better translated as discomfort. We are the discomfort of the Lord. We are the felt discomfort of the Light opening into and as the densest Dark.

To combine the separatist and relational ways of speaking, we are both the furtherest outpost of the light and the interwhirling of the light and dark. As re-presentations of the light, we have gone native. In our attempts to colonize the darkness, we have inter-married. We are darkness opening to the light and we are light opening to the darkness.

This is a delicate balance. We can be swallowed up by the darkness. All prayer is a call for help. Help comes. We can be overpowered by the light. These days the former is more likely than the latter. This balance is our felt discomfort and is "the anger of the Lord."

push pull

When we take a stance, the anti-stance is immediately called into play. We create our counter-force. We counter with stronger stance, which directly strengthens the opposing force. All political parties, religion arguments, philosophical stances are inside us and we make ourselves all hopping mad. It would be funny if not so painful.

let it go

An age-old symbol of healing and transformation, the snake sheds its outgrown skin. It does not stay to beat up the skin it shed, nor to excoriate those still abiding in such skins. At first it may pride itself in its new raiment. Then it realizes that must be shed too. And so goes our onward transformation, neither casting aspersion on what we left, nor captured in adoration of what we are and what we will become.

mister theo and mister atheo

Theo and Atheo were walking down the road.
Each claimed the other was his shadow.
"I cannot be your shadow," said Theo. "I am light."
"Proves my point," said Atheo.
"What shadow would dark have but light?"

candles

We harden, needing no one else.
We soften, needs far too many.

We melt.
We stand firm.

Our downfall is our uplift.
Our uplift, our downfall.

Light, heat, warmth.

We weep.
We glow.

homeboys and girls of the ganglia

The universe, the cosmos is alive! Every aspect of the cosmos, rocks, trees, birds, galaxies, black holes, humans, is reporting vital information to its central nervous system. We are one vast symphony of informational music in our movements, our meanderings, our sudden stops.

fric and frac

All art is the creation and resolution of f(r)iction.

We are creatures of f(r)iction.
Our lives are lives of f(r)iction.
Without f(r)iction, we do not exist.

Our teeth grind against themselves, against food.
Our feet grip, wear down the earth.
We follow beaten paths.

Nirvana is the absence of f(r)iction,
the candle blown out,
no sputtering against the flame.

No nirvana us, we are the fires of f(r)iction.

Love is lubricated f(r)iction, our highest art.

Sharp corners worn round, muscles honey toned,
dis-armed, no leg to stand on,
love waits in the wings,
then knocks us over with a feather.

Love is the highest form of f(r)iction.

moving as one

Substantiation must precede transubstantiation.
Then they move as one. Alone each is ineffective.

the living breathing aware universe

There are as many sense organs in the universe as there are humans. Each human is a sense organ. All humans together make up one sensor, a sensor taking in vast information. All is fed to the Source from which the sensor springs -- a living dynamic everchanging evershifting resonance of intricate and intimate data comprehended by the One organically connected to the sensor and its sense organs. At times we stop in the information feed and sense our Source.

i laugh aloud

i laugh aloud no endarkenment no enlightenment no no only merely a thrumming humming universe rolling right along cavorting joyously expanding deflating puffing up casting down all around no ending no beginning no need and if you use this to build a doctrine and preach you are so far off the mark you better just go sell shoes to them as ain't got no feet or watermelons to the mouthless

my mom the alchemist

When I was a young teen suffering from heartfelt pain, my mom said that my heart would be placed within the hottest fire, heated white-hot, removed and hammered hard, then plunged into the coldest of water. She said this process would be repeated, that I was being tempered. She said I had only two choices: to keep my heart open or to slam it shut.

going to ashes

The phoenix rises out of the ashes.
First ashes, then phoenix.

Sit down. Go to ashes.
No hope. No expectation.

If you are going to cling,
cling to nothing. Let go.
Dis-solve. No solution. Ashes.

A tiny ember burns. On its own.
Then flares. Into flame.
Rise up. Your work is done.

Born anew.

Go wash the dog.

methinks

methinks i writes too abstractly
too compactly too exactly

if'n one doesn't know what i mean already
one's brain could feel like confetti

i got no call in the matter
i serve to you what's on my platter

nothing i know that i can do
'cept shut my mouth and not say boo

but it builds within and comes on out
just won't follow no other route

i write my mind i write my heart
every ending is another start

guess i'll keep on doing what i do
and hope your brain doesn't turn to goo

thanks for your readership!

comprehension apprehension

Only that which we do not comprehend
can rescue us from our rigid states of comprehension.

We tend to fear or disdain what we do not comprehend.
We refuse to even begin to comprehend it.

We have comprehension apprehension.
We lift all drawbridges from our moat.

We congratulate ourselves on our self-sufficiency.

Only that which we do not comprehend
can rescue us from our dead-on certainty.

oh, those two again

Science is a quantitative endeavor.
Science does things by the numbers.
Science does things.

Spirituality is a qualitative endeavor.
Spirituality opens to quality of relationship.
Spirituality opens.

Science handles the horizontal dimension.
Science likes a level playing field.

Spirituality attends to the vertical dimension.
Every direction is up with its down.

Together they form a cross.
Sometimes they are cross with each other.
Sometimes a cross road at which we stand.
Science, Spirituality -- which shall we choose?

Both. We are that cross.

We stand with arms outstretched.
One arm pointing to the past, the other to the future.
Our heart is in the present.

We look down and see our rooted groundedness.
We look up and see vast heavens.

We are the vertical living in and as the horizontal,
spirituality living in a scientific world.

We are the horizon-seekers who are vertical,
matter-of-fact scientists opening to spiritual quality.

Some of us insist on one more than the other,
even to the exclusion of the other.

When that happens we become either
mere fenceposts or logs lying on the ground.

The cross. The cross is where Its at.

Thursday Street Scenes (2)

Thursday Street Scenes (1)

grim reapers & joyous re-juicers

the attitude makes the day
we sow what we reap

whine gets whine
grind gets grind

magic gets magic

I Mage
I live in Magi Nation
I Magi

I Magi Nation

I Mage-ician

no whiny grindy
sage mage

Tuesday Street Scenes

bait

In order to exist, one must call oneself into focus.
What we call a self is what we have called into focus.
We call it our self or my self. A sense of ownership exists.

If you do not call yourself into focus, you do not exist.
You call a different self into focus every time.
A different focus, a different self.

What is doing the calling?
You cannot see it with the self you continue creating.
You can only see it by being it and none other.

When you are that doing the calling
you have died before you die
and are truly lively.

The one doing the calling is not
the one you think you are
nor the one you feel you are
nor the one you dangle like bait
before the eyes of others.

We are not a who.
We are a what.
And not even that.

As soon as we open our mouths we are lying.
None of us like that, so let's call it creativity.
We are creative endeavors calling ourselves into focus.