09 November 2012



Do not be at all intimidated by all that has been said, done, and written.
It has all been you from the beginning of all beginnings,
And will be until the end of all endings.
And, of course,
Before and after all that, as well.

* * * *
Life is really but a simple riddle,
The answer to which is nothing more than it is as it is.
There is really no should or should not,
Nor ought or ought not to be,
About any of it.

* * * *
What more do you really need to experience
That has not been played out in spades
Times beyond counting before?

* * * *
What is heaven but hope, and hell, dread.
The nectar of awareness is prior to both.

* * * *
You see only see what you perceive.
You see only see what you know.
You see only see what you believe.
Everyone is but a frame of reference.

* * * *
What desire, what fear can there be
If you are immersed in the awareness
Of the unfolding ever-present moment?

* * * *
All dogma, all vanity, all everything,
Ripples from consciousness, not awareness.
From mind, not that which is witness to all creation.

* * * *
Time to get up, suit up,
Stoke up the will, put on the game face,
Head out the door, wander down the road less traveled,
And try not to make too much of an errant jester of yourself again today.



All concepts are merely concepts, no matter how noble or corrupt.
They morph, they dissipate, they are all nothing more
Than brief, transitory, imaginary whims.

* * * *
By the time you recognize and react to any given memory,
Awareness has already moved on to the next,
And the many nexts beyond that.
And on and on,
An eternal, immortal sprite
You can never touch, never catch, only be.

* * * *
Sometimes it is heaven, sometimes it is hell.
Consciousness is flip-flop like that.
Awareness doesn’t care.

* * * *
That which is godness is within
To whatever degree you feel called
To discern the infinity beyond all pales.

* * * *
We are all given different destinies
Through which we may discern
The truth of our common essence,
If we leverage the mettle and veracity.

* * * *
Once all memories have dissolved,
Will anything have ever really happened?
All history is but a fleeting game of make-believe.

* * * *
It seems more than a little curious,
That so many would choose dogma and idolatry
Over the infinite treasure in all things, in all places, in all times.

* * * *
It is suffering that compels us to scrutinize our universes more closely.
We were all immortal before the manifest dream inspired us to doubt otherwise.
What a master teacher, pain, in all its ever-changing ways and means,
For as long as its lessons can be endured, and survived.

07 November 2012



That which we call god is the quantum essence which is never born and can never die.
But if there were a personalized supreme divinity that so many have imagined,
He, she, it – or whatever – would more than likely be bored to tears
Having to daily endure the ceaselessly predictable inanities
Of our two-legged, thumb-wagging, tool-making, monkey-mind kind,
And the ongoing devastation of what is very likely one eternity’s greatest creations.

* * * *
The is absolutely no rhyme or reason to suspect, much less believe,
There is some sort of supreme being outside your Self,
Or at least one that does not also include you.
How could any of this be happening
Without your participation
To the very core of your beingness.
Any duality is false from all beginnings to all ends.

* * * *
All of us doing whatever it is we want to do,
Well, that is the human paradigm in a nutshell.

* * * *
The set and costumes change,
But the monkey-mind stays the same.
If it is some sort of paradigm shift you pursue,
It can only manifest in your mind, and your mind alone.
Be whatever change you wish the world to be.

* * * *
In youth, life is full of vitality and learning,
But mortal reality – injury, illness, aging, death –
Gradually erode the many illusions of blissful ignorance.
Questions arise about the ever-changing light show of a universe.
And those who give it earnest and unwavering attention
Discern the awareness and its immortal nature.

* * * *
How is it anyone truly believes some sort of alien race was required to create our kind,
Or set us on some sort of long, winding, convoluted, evolutionary journey?
How is it anyone could gaze upon this astonishing garden planet
And not assume it entirely capable of being the source
Of all the innumerable life forms it sustains?
It is a curious thing that so many require the belief
In some outside intervention to explain the mystery they are.

02 November 2012



All dogmas discuss, debate, battle, over imagined facets of the same origin.
Different metaphors, different archetypes, different interpretations,
Different sounds, different principles, different speculations.
Different this … different that … different whatever.
All struggling over the same eternal source,
The same inexplicable fountainhead,
Over and over and over again.

* * * *
That you are of god is not something to be taken vainly,
But as something to be discerned at the core of your being.
The kingdom of god is the sovereignty of the indivisible source
Within all things both manifest and unmanifest.
The eternal matrix is all-inclusive,
Including even you.

* * * *
Here you are pretending this manifest existence
That is so full of vanity, so unreal all the while.
You are That I Am, nothing more, nothing less.

* * * *
There is only one awareness,
There is only one consciousness,
Splintered into an endless array of forms,
Playing out every prospect imagination deigns.
A capricious ocean of surging tides and crashing waves,
But an ocean, nonetheless.

* * * *
“Supreme Being” is being in the most
Omniscient, omnipotent, omnipresent way.
It is less about some imaginary, personal divinity
Than the absoluteness of pure, unadulterated awareness.
Love is the indivisible, unconditional, impersonal indifference.

* * * *
Face it, one day, sooner or later,
The body is going to give that bucket a mighty kick.
But until then, get out there and partake whatever living you can muster,
So that you can realize, without malice or concern,
It is all really no big deal,
Just worm’s breath in the making.