Fired!

I fired my mind today.
It was for acting above and beyond
the call of duty.

Internal dialogue

The reason we have “internal dialogue”
is because we think
there’s someone else there listening.
When one does this out loud,
and is walking alone down the street,
they call him a raving lunatic.
When one does this out loud,
and is in the White House,
they call him the President.

When I stop having imaginary
conversations with myself —
Then, I will have something to say.

Carrots

Spiritual practices are like holding
out a carrot to a donkey.
A good teacher doesn’t give you carrots.
She tells you you’re A DONKEY.

Do Patterns Matter?

Stripes on a tiger
Blobs on a leaf
Striations in my aura
Marks on my personality
What do these signify?
No cause for alarm here...
Life has ups and downs,
People can be good and bad
Weather comes and goes...
Do these matter?
I exist in a place that is beyond the pale
And beyond the veil
A land before contradiction
A place before dreams.
And from that infinite view
These patterns are
The Father turning,
And what matters is
The Mother churning,
Apparently,
this is how creation
IS.
And this is how I
come to
BE.

Who Loves?

Michael
The whole universe being a projection of mind,
Who is there to love me,
and more to the point,
Who is there to be loved?

The very nature of the Self is Joy,
But looking about desperately for "something" to come to "me",
an assumed small self is experiencing pangs of misery.

What to do?
Be affectionate with the poor little delusion,
But don't dote on it!
Enjoy the Joy of Self whatever "anyone else" may say!

Lakshmi
Well, now.
I am there to love you.
And you are there to be loved.

And it is just so that this exquisite love between individuals
can be enJoyed,
That I came into form from formlessness.
From Unity I became Multiplicity.

But everyone of my fractions
Harbors within their in divide dual heart
The liberating secret:

Like this poem,
The whole Universe is a story
Told by One—to no one.

A butterfly, three mirrors and a candle

Gary
The salute was developed by those
protecting their eyes from the Light.
I remember when we bathed in it,
And it washed us clean,
And there was love and laughter.

Still, a butterfly, three mirrors and a candle.

Lakshmi
And sometimes we walked through the mud
To reach that waterfall.
First you see, then you saw.
And when it becomes a tired old ax,
Don't despair.
There is a new baptism waiting for you,
Cradling brilliant reflections
On the laser edge of a sword clothed in flesh.

Always, a butterfly, three mirrors, and a candle

Gravity is Love

Gaia holds me fast to her
Never for a moment will she let me go
They call it a force, Gravity.
I call it Love, a divine embrace
Bracing me, balancing me

I am a diode emitting Light
Rainbow colors divided through 7 centers
Of perception. Per Sept.
Absorbing dark matter through my root
Pranic energy collects at the base.
I open each chakra in my imagination.
Petals unfurling...
Red radiance radiates my lower body
Bleeding into orange,
Bursts open in the sunshine of yellow
Gravitates towards green
Filters through my heart and lungs
Into a turquoise bottle neck
Rushing to meet that conical
Gland in the land of Pi
That cone of cosciousness
Swirls open to receive
Purple pouring in from above my crown.
Suddenly imagination becomes experience.
A synaptic flash of lightening zings me,
Completing the circuit
From root to crown,
Darts forward into my temple.
As indigo vision opens to
Viv id perception.

Now I am open.

Surfs Up!

Arrogance rides on the crest of
Every wave of transformation
White, foamy, but of little real substance.
Its easy to get bedazzled by the foam and
Giddy with the spray.
Of negative ions in the air
When I’m riding high.

But in order to surf the web of consciousness
I’ve got to stay balanced on the board
Feet firmly planted
Center of gravity low, not high.
In proper awe of the forces I’ve harnessed.

Being aware that feelings like
Jubilation,
Triumph,
Over-confidence,
Sudden and unexplained
Revulsion for others.
Are shadows of my own self-doubt.
Creating that cosmic wobble.

Balance is the Middle Way
The middle of what?
The middle of the poles.
Negative on the left,
Positive on the right.
Go too far one way
And I must dip into the other side.
While finding balance again.
The higher the wave,
The greater the risk of
Falling in,
Being submerged,
Drowning.
The higher the elation,
The more froth and foam.

Myself, riding, the wave of Presence
Smack in the middle!
Divinely appointed
Within my true nature.

Wicked webs

We spin a spell,
Weave a yarn,
And this creates our web of belief.

What wicked webs we weave...
But only when we think that we're the Weaver.
Our actions spiral out into Pi,
Easy to abstract, hard to divine.

I catch myself dancing on the twin blade
Of pride at my own brilliance,
And humiliation that I cannot be brilliant at will.
But the brilliance escapes me none the less.

Love

Love, Love, Love it flowers in me.
Grace, grace, grace, it hovers over me.
I penetrate the heart of Being
Where my soul drinks the waters of Emptiness.
Cool, cold, clear divine wellspring of Love, Love, Love.

Bigfoot

There's always a bigger game afoot.
But sometimes I get tunnel vision
Looking for your light at the end of the tunnel

I am the Light.
Looking for it outside myself is darkness.
But when I saw your smiling face
Radiant with light
I forgot that you were my reflection.
I looked into the mirror darkly.
Wanting you to keep shining on me.