15 June 2014

One Hundred and Ninety-Two


The frontal lobe is an ever-changing cloud of consciousness
In which vast universes are created and preserved and destroyed.
A neural vapor in which all things are given form and name.
Still the movement, and what are you, what are you not?

* * * *
Go back, back, back,
To the beginning of existence,
To the awareness prior to the universe,
To the newborn’s eternal filled-with-wonder mind
Before the patterning began carving itself
Into the consciousness you call you.
Dare again to be completely
And utterly free.

* * * *
Everything is real, nothing is real.
Everything is good, nothing is good.
Everything is special, nothing is special.
Everything is mystery, nothing is mystery.
Everything is sacred, nothing is sacred.
Everything is god, nothing is god.

* * * *
The same magic,
The same mystery,
The same miracle,
The same wonder,
The same source,
Is in everything.

* * * *
The observer is the observed.
The observed is the observer.

* * * *
To really not care about anybody or anything
Is really as much a fundamental right as any.

* * * *
There is nothing in which to believe
Once you realize you are the heart of awareness,
The source of all things great and small, absolutely nothing at all.