Concerto in Be and Symphony in See

if the self suffers as Self abides 

and there is no self but Self 

then being is the middleman 

Universal meditation like a wave intuiting the sea like trees embracing light like consciousness reflecting awareness. Sounding Hiawatha by the rapid waters of four corners. 

After hydrogen appears the big illusion. Self-inquiry reveals the liberating sudden emptiness of answering.

bodhisattva

may you see

you may dream

like a long gone

Buddha in love

as if from Colorado

Springs it's either

Pike's Peak or

Garden of the Gods

as a recluse

on Cold Mountain

while diving into

grapevine pond

each Sunday

Hallelujah Cathedral of our Mother! Every moment is as it was and as it should be. Unborn sudden free one.

transformation procreation

technology or deconstruction

one and none

Listen. the kiss of quantum whispers is always in the air.

when one's awakening

becomes quicker than

prior mind will process

please to follow love

Whatever this lifetime brings to the table is always being served.

London Calling

prophecy full moon

Blessed is the one who questions oneself. It's not easy being postmodern.

all spacetime is

oneself intending

self-awareness

because oneself

This is where I start accentuating nature as I question climate change myself. Spoiler: no one is expelled. Self-awareness is the paradoxical intent of god the self.

First learn to love everything. Then believe in nothing. Raising consciousness is like affectionate awareness as experienced. And silence is my equal love. 

There's nothing to fear but identity itself. Love is the nearest thing to an answer. Being is mostly misunderstood.

Starry Starry parts of a great black Whole.

Eastern Standard Spiritual

Nine prophetic snow birds on bare ground.

The golden oak leaves of November burnishing the river.

Sea clouds, contrails, and the last clear skies of Daylight Savings Time.

Bare trees deconstruct the house of horrors.

As the abstract matrix of docks and boats are dropped on shore,

the current is open, spontaneous, and unified.

Now the silver waxing fleck of moon in sapphire sunshine afternoon!

If one tears the construct down, one will find oneself in being.

In that awareness reflected in this consciousness,

this so-called feeling called affectionate awareness,

is abiding absolution.

Unknown but never nothing, that is all.

An Abstract Expressionistic Spiritual

Call it Absolute or God the Father. That's my natural state. Unknown.

The rope is binary. The snake is two.

Black wood. White paper. Red newspaper.

Wholly the sun or an absolutely unknowable black hole. Demonstrably this and that.

The black caws of a crow above a field of corn maiden light intent.

In the Cherry Blossom and Banana Day, there is no need to swallow any aspirin.

Desert falling rain clouds as seen through a bloodshot sandstone arch.

I was somewhere around the edge of Zuni when I saw the white buffalo.

And in the end, everything is black and white but never right or wrong.

Beneath a joker moon is walking thirteen dreams about a country nothing.

the way of the bird is the word

the moon jumped over the now

knowing nothing but feeling universally groovy

An Eastern New England Spiritual

It is said nothing good comes from an east wind.

It is said to criticize a snake is to give oneself no rope.

It is said memory makes the world go round.

In fact scientific materialism has always been anti-science.

Everyone thinks to make a better illusion but only love will do.

Forget belief. Remember that unknown.

When I was a child, I thought the world of things, but now that I am so much younger, I am Unborn.

We run the necessary gauntlet of the world until one understands this inconceivably original innocence.

One only knows the dark by feeling. Any other kind of knowing than this affectionate awareness is merely memorable.

Listen to oneself.

Don't deface another.

Make no new belief.

Love compassion and forgiveness is one's personal best.

Self-Aware Spiritual

Absolution occurs in the universal only. The personal is fictional.

On its way to becoming self-aware, the universe crashes into Adam and Eve.

Self-awareness is like the natural current of a river and a person is like a backwater channel.

Imagining oneself to be universal is just acting natural.

Suddenly non-duality is binary: 01101001.

The mind appears to be molecular but self-awareness is organic.

There is a deep affectionate awareness underlying one and all from flower to the root.

And the god of original black whole awareness descends into the material to rise through evolutionary intent into the god of self-awareness.

Upon the clearing, the depth of sea reflects the space of sky.

Koan Like Spiritual

The super-ego of mythology with the personality of a dream.

He said. She said. History and her story.

And magical reality is measured in degrees of self-awareness.

To be direct about these things, no mind is nothing if not universal.

And a koan is nothing but a myth where words are gods.

Vice is versa, love is the only virtue, and everything else is unknown.

It is said that god which is named Intent is telling stories.

Someone is singing truth stings like Appalachian Whiskey honestly distilled.

As if one not experiencing the necessary moment of intent is bound to repeat it.

Superman loves Lois

like the lotus is the sutra

and self-awareness is intent

Play Meets Meditation

Suddenly subjective recollection like remembrance of taste but flashback of smell.

As if this present manifestation is remembering the future more clearly than the past.

Memory appears to be thunder stuck in thought but premonition is a lightning feeling.

The turn turn turn is at the present crux of Tao as yin turns yang or past turns future or vice is to the versa.

Likewise near November First as play is meeting meditation and the curtain between the two is suddenly transparent.

Deer. Bare woods. The diamond sun. And eating my heart alive.

a modern spiritual

what waxes wanes

what wanes is unreal

saying that three times is quite the mantra

so much depends

upon a full wolf moon glazed

with the light of an unseen sun

footnote william carlos williams red wheelbarrow

be the sun and let the black whole see

after woke is awake waiting for the sudden

after kensho comes the recluse

beauty is truth.

truth is the beauty of

form being intent

in holy trinity

nature is my bhakti but now it's now

it's only cherry blossoms other shit and more imagination but i love it

the easy breathing of falling leaves and breathing in again

so meanwhile while waiting for the sudden

do no practical harm to others

love the other as oneself that is all

A Postmodern Spiritual

Dream an avocado surf illusion surf the red hot peppercorn and panoramic ocean view.

O great wave John Donne the causeless raven beats beneath the power of ten thousand sunflowers howling in the purple haze of a pissing sun.

Cicadas sing in sweet Virginia like a mantra strawberry lilac lotus black apocalypse calypso Joshua and nobody the frog.

Science says that everything is nothing but some quantum string—yet one acts as if the world is a thread of something else.

Jesus stopped to say belief is for the birds but render love unto oneself.

The body is through a glass willing. Spirit is ancient sunlight.

Inside each sun and daughter is Buddha Nature.

The chant of every chapter and the song of universal verse.

We are X-ray.

The universe in a moon and the absolute almighty of the unseen sun.

Mountains and rivers

Through the heart of dark continent

Looking for a way

To sea

Moby Dick on Highway Sixty-One. Call me unborn.

And the chorus, and the chorus, and the chorus, and the cool cool night.

Meditation One

Living is universal. All verb. No pronoun.

Meditation is the mediation of the universal and the absolute.

After the deconstruction of thought, being is consciously perceived.

Absolution of the universal presence only: the personal is just a dream that fades away.

No mind and no thinking are deconstructive thoughts. Pointers to the universality of being.

"because all these phenomena are the body of the one dharma of the tathägata."

"maintaining awareness of the true mind is the basic principle of the entire canon"

"though its real nature is formless, intent and proportion always remain."

"thus, the profound luminous one never ends: it remains forever shining bright."

I like my Zen early or reclusive.

Being ends in thought and begins in absolution.

True being is off the record. Buddha mind.

BEING (I AM, PRESENCE, BUDDHA MIND) IS LIKE THE POWER OF AN EMOTION WITHOUT THE THOUGHT PERSONIFYING IT

an ouroboros like universal apperception and affectionate awareness

.

Straight Out of Nothing

From out of pure potentiality my presence has appeared. 

Through what appears as countless years of evolution

I have a mind to know that. In October orange leaves are falling

but the trees are going nowhere. If a tree is falling in the forest

does the earth remain rock solid to its molten core?

And does the sun express itself in planetary play of my creation?

This is all the inner dreamworks of my self-awareness.

Holy holy holy consciousness-expanding colors are exploding

fireworks and thunder echoing within the misty river valley of my word.

An Indian Fantasia

Ten thousand objects. One subject. Keep it simple.

Love is not a thought: direct path to no mind.

This infinite experience of simple being is ecstatic joy.

While death is just a careless thought.

Einstein is the proof of angels.

Columbus discovered nothing but didn't know it.

Dreams are commentaries on a dream.

All my footnotes reference Nisargadatta. 

Between being and nothing is something else. Beyond.

Knowing the power is troubling at first and ultimately prophetic.

West meets east when neither has direction.

Nothing is as much a thought as any profit.

There are ten thousand Buddhas because one universal being.

Between the black hole and memory is being.

Being is obviously the Son of God.

Existence never is.

In other words. Einstein. West. Black hole. 

Nisargadatta East Being.

Sermon from a River

Do not become misguided by the politics of division

for the world itself is nothing but division.

The mind divides.

That’s what the function of this instrument is there to do.

But one does not identify with a tool, of course,

for in doing so, a divided world is lacerated out of universal being.

We are this one universal being before societal conditioning

and universal being always

despite forgetfulness and ignorance

and these projections.

It’s not a problem though;

it’s just the inner workings of a process the mind calls self-awareness.

There’s an evolutionary vector one is following

and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.

The river flows intently to that absolute almighty sea.

Being is the holy water

and love, forgiveness, and compassion is the current.

Follow oneself and see.

Pike's Peak Projections

At thirteen thousand feet, I saw majestic long horn sheep about three hundred yards away from the highway up Pikes Peak.

I stopped the car and ran across the mountain tundra intending to get closer for a better picture,

or I rather jumped from rock to rock avoiding tiny flowers, moss, and lichen in that fragile alpine zone

until my rapid breathing caught me by surprise.

I had forgotten that the air up at such an altitude is as rare as all the ground beneath me.

In that special atmosphere I was remembering something quite pedestrian—

breathing is as awesome as whatever else is out there in its fantastic exhalation.

Phenomenal Fantasia

1. October Flower Dance

Looking at leaves, my subtle branches intuit the stars.

There is no separation for division is exclusively a concept; what appears to be the universe is my society of being.

Only thinking makes an object from the subject, makes this jade-plated quality from that which is unknown.

As if the self-awareness of the self—the self that unknown pure awareness—is spontaneously blossoming into thermonuclear dreams of being.

There is a current underneath the chatter like the river pulling at the heart of some huckleberry backwater.

The personal is just projection from an ignorance of what I always know I am to be unknown. Stop and feel the flowers.

Love, forgiveness, and compassion like the naked roots of god only knows the stars above us.

As the universe is my single song, the absolute is silence singing.

There's intent in evolution, spontaneity is this freedom of intent and self-awareness is the song of self—that is why purple asters in October.

2. No Will

The dream is a self-powered love machine.

Everything is a thought. Even nothing. I am.

A red wheelbarrow.

Black hole white noise. 

The sea, the sea, the sea.

Shakespeare Bodhidharma.

3. Further

After irony is reflection is understanding. Comedy is always further.

One's conditioning is the mirror by which the absolute is seen. The dust is the whole point.

Feel the dust as dust.

See the leaves as always turning.

Love being and being illuminates.

Existence is a thought. Being is now. I am beyond.

The process of self-awareness is like watching sausage getting made.

An Indigenous Trip

Down by Indian Creek the leaves are turning back to that indigenous condition of an innocence before conditioning.

An unnamed stream is flowing with this hydrologic river to the absolute unknowing of the sea.

And suddenly the dream of summer celebrations on a sandbar in the middle of

this wide expanse of legendary knowledge fades like chlorophyll in hillside foliage.

There is a red-tailed hawk in pure blue skies, yellow double lines on a river road, and orange sunshine

in the loving deconstruction of yet another world.

The Great Profile

I saw the Old Man in the Mountain the year before the five granite cliff ledges giving form to face collapsed.

It was Autumn 2002 and the trees up at the notch were bare, although within the valley further north the foliage was peak.

Still, the drab surroundings only made the rock face more prolific in its inspiration, as if a vision will only come alive

completely unattached and otherworldly in the murky night when sleep has overcome the colors of our daydream.

The overall effect was honestly phenomenal! But next summer when I visited again the site I saw an even greater revelation.

There in crystal skies is surfacing the Old Man’s original face.

October Surprise

October begins with leaves 

and ends in emptiness 

and in-between occurs 

a colorful illusion 

lost to apple picking.

By November, everything is over

as if the none of it was ever there.

But that is getting far ahead of autumn things.

Stories need their telling like sleep needs dreaming.

There, a leaf is turning yellow, another

one is falling like a magic carpet

sailing in the cool fresh air,

and ten thousand erstwhile fallen

hide the ground from being self-aware.

Northeast Absolution

The wind is stuck this week. 

It’s blowing from the Northeast 

with a steadiness of force enough 

to turn the temperature on land to that of sea.

The Gulf of Maine in late September

off the coast of Northern Massachusetts

rests around the higher fifties

which is where our air is resting.

Likewise now there’s something to be said

about the art of meditation as the absolute

redeems this being no longer lost in thought

but resting in this being.

O let the sea wash over me

ten thousand yards away

as black crows fly but here

and now as silently as I.

An Acadia Love Musical

i.

Like a feeling but not an emotion.

Like attention without a thought.

Affectionate awareness isn't nothing 

as being isn't something.

ii.

That which appears to be the universe is universal being and

this knowledge known as being is just that.

And love is the sign of universal being to be followed like cairns

upon a fogbound trail on this rocky ground high above tree-level.

And fog so thick one has to walk past the last cairn to a point of almost-

no-return before the next one is discovered—this is called further.

Imagine this newborn matrix in affectionate awareness is

conditioned to perceive my self as something else.

iii.

Conditioning is an original error 

passed on thru generations

and love is the sign of my self—

the missing of the mark is not following it.

This is called sin.

And often misunderstood as 

an act against another.

There is no other.

There's only self, 

confusion and the way.

Hiker. Fog. Trail.

Conditioning. Sign. Self.

iv.

Meanwhile the big bang is the earthling name for like half

of the singular wholly process of godself knowing godself.

And the chorus sings love and attention,

love and attention, love and attention.

v.

Acadia; Act Five, Scene One: after

crawling up the desert rock western slope

suddenly seeing an eastern sea and sky

in blue panoramic ultra high definition.