I found your heart on the sidewalk early this morning
Dripping in the sweetest dew
I could not contain my excitement
For what a treasure to encompass
My own pleasure with


HS

levitate over the torso
induce the confusion like
asphyxiate
reciprocate

love for loves sake

conversations filtered like sand
stare;
analyze the eyes
don't just look
muse

try to figure out
why im the first one
discovered
at the end of every night

platform of love
I pull myself away from the edge

Tonight I want nothing more than to
slide beneath your hands
in this timeless universe
to smell your love upon my skin
while the ghostly hills pass
still waking at midnight
walking behind

These things possible to have been said
I've uncurled in a swallowed sound
as I am of you and slightly the other

my name follows the shadow of yours
meanwhile she
catches shade in a valley of bees

we are meant to move forward without each other
but lacking little light i turn and hide

you have worn many names and faces, sir
to say you are undisciplined is a love of lies
your expectation wavers with the sky turning
what they all worked hard for stops

night mountains, a sharp silence

no longer a child
orphan, stoic, doctor, sir

firstborn
first abroad
first lost

as a child, he spoke as a child

abba
aboji

distance is relative, hinged
joints bend where other spaces would break
forced into a posture
object
stars move slowly across his face

this is now something recognized in my eyes

I am to say
who was but until the present never could be

I see and hear everything
I see and hear you

speak as simply as you can
without fire these words nearly sleep
the distance between

a shade platform
a hindered announcement
faces fanning in the heat

louder than the eyes having it
louder than the deer giving up its secrets on the tree

quietly we crawl under our covers
the house stands still after hours of unrest
delicate as folding screens these turns burn our faces

we will hear and we will see but we will not speak

broad light of day is a hard release
dark ambient mover
destiny holds swirling gates ajar
swallowed in the thousand flight
sun walkers collecting miracle sound engines a storm

lacking necessary endings
mystery transforms night into illusion
familiar object outland delivers

sight objects unearthing sound


na
nabi
nun
white
what lies


lost as a child
I spoke
sighted in the scrim and flash...
I sway

--

Is this life the tune of his human hands shake
as they play out the rhythms on his shoulders
in a refrain that comes to nothing more
than the drumming of grand architecture
to the straight on stare of strangers and friends
which melt our story with what now becomes
a man that is buried from within
by the sweet tremble of his hands excused
in order to show his capacity
to feel beyond the present.

For continuum weighs sympathy.

There is no deviation in the baring of these days
that calm this man to the descent of what I so desire.

i.
Heading south people change and it seems, by degrees
imperceptible over decades. In this place
the small 'i' looks into flight theory
for a bird out of season. Life as a rule
consists of evidence, the gentle breeze
or the gale force, it leans on faith
towards chance with the family,
the friends & the lovers you take
a shine to. A belief that obscene amounts
of change alarms, if the people
you love will only change with you.
But the saddest day is the one
where you find you've changed too
much and us not nearly enough.

ii.
Wing stretches while this log fire burns, all through
a sleepless stretch of evening.
The small 'i' re-working words
is hemp loose, as ideas fall
with passions onto paper.
At 4 a.m. body exhausted, walking
outside holding another.
Plumes tickle and rise in the head,
drift from the hand and the mouth.
Theres a mounting chipper of birds all
about, they rustle and stir in the bush
behind. Drawn closer, no doubt
by the sweet stench that floats
thick, in Kanimblas subzero air.

iii.
Air spirals as it is the vertigo and the wind
that gets me, holds me reticent
just one step away from the edge.
From the top of this plateau,
its a sheer drop into silence and
the cavernous mystery beneath.
The valley is fluted in layers of mist,
a scene stealer for the tourist and
the small 'i' alone on the stone
ledge of so vast an expanse.
Catching wits and breath,
I recall a friend having said that
a mountaineer once
saw god on K2s summit.

iv.
Weightless flight theres experience in that possibility,
in that solitary view of the infinite.
Precipitation clears from the valley
as birds and bird song wing
through the sunfiltered clouds.
And just beyond the falls
two iridescent rainbows form
the perfect tricolour arcs.
The sky is winter blue and enormous.
The small 'i' subdued, watches day
pass and the sun shine on the valley.
Consider how easy the choice
to take one step out and glide
weightless on air currents really is.

v.
Tail feathers and vegetation grow lush all the way
down through the pathway.
The legs wind the slim web of road
until it flattens out into brush country.
Horses graze close to the Tea Rooms
where theres hot food and a fire.
This valley less up close
less imposing than the view
from the top plateau suggests.
On the way back up echoes
of parrots and lyre.
The weather ominous as feathers
float with the snowfall when birds
lift from the trees and are gone.


vi.
Skyways in the old adobe home fire
warms flesh while the heart
beats slow and the small 'i' wonders
'where exactly in this anatomy
do wings fit?' In the cerebellum,
which itself feels nothing
synapses spark and push
memorys sharp edges
into tissue of the heart
or the head with no reply.
It makes no difference, what
the small 'i' decides - as just
because they can, birds will
stretch out their wings and fly.

--

what can
unsteady a person
bring her falling
into the deepest sky?
she swims
inside dreaming
lets go
of possibility
makes dizzy the first
bone-dry second
then blue surrounds…

*

her eyes let go
of every surface
resemble
every weather
she is everywhere

We will change the music for you. It will look like a field of buttercups, and sound like dinnertime.

a six-inch patch of life redemption

Si lo que has encontrado
Fue formado por materia pura
Nunca se pudrirá
Y tu puedes volver un día
Si fue solo un momento de luz
Como la explosión de una estrella
No encontraras nada cuando regreses
Pero habrás visto una explosión de luz.
Y esto solo ya habrá valido la pena
PC

quiver beneath
thirty four fingers
in-others entering
through-an excuse
for constant-
delusion

HS

there may be dedications
determined by the disciplinary music
of a looming storm
but what kind of day means
another melodious shift
ive been training my left arm to glimmer
and am already accustomed
to the heat of the forge
yet as for flames i head in all directions
of yellow turning
orange turning
away my gaze
and the watery foundations

but love,
if you were a globe,
i could place a finger
match equator to longitude
then gather the topography
into a fistful of embers

you might have brought the other motion with you
maybe you did draw three broad Xs across our earth

i might have touched fingertip to fingertip

climbed the hill 

and surprised the city

but now
this junction still exists

Language is the place of the mind
as Space is the place of the body.

Hair dripping, as it were, south, while the ice-blue
inside of your mouth hisses letters through the rain.

To speak is to desire. So the gods judge.

The heart, an organ of fire. my fruit.
The soul, nail-bed as my gift.

mothers, seeds, gods

what do you

 wish for?

the heart leaps the heart opens the heart
closes the heart grieves

it becomes it sinks
into your palm it believes

acacia blossoms this time three
foot snow this mild
spring winter

when I dream of men it is always you
no longer

does it mean I'll wake
up making poppies in a crush of white
its pure

us loving in our barely there
adult twin bodies blue and dark

delight in our delight
buds blazing
but when I dream of women it is always I

delighting to delight

Are the flowers youve brought to the surface to wake me?
Are they heavenly flowers?
Are they an excess of petals, an oblivious turn to abundance, the ground of the flower itself?

Is the aspect of sweetness compressed into a sea-water breath, as one would bring air to the surface?

Would I feel a flower so similar to aberrations of color descending to roses?

As I would so love to be restored from my likeness to what would parallel instead.

Deepness is a metaphor belonging to those who beckon all they seek into the vicinity of the imagination. A flower from the theatre. A passionate rural howl. Controversy with style. Ignorance of sleep as if being awake had somehow more virtue. In reality, there are those who see the deep and the shallow as part of the same view. Landscape is perspective. Insight has your dimensions.

In facing
the face faces us
we see light and
in light a sea
of particulars a face
we see bodies forth
open and opaque
it calls us
ourselves

we forego
in the realm of
sensuous there is not
a first experience of
ego its image apogee

every face his face
only I see he
defys his pleasure
he alarms he divides
he can neither partake
nor participate

My response
resound with redundancy
In facing the face
pain in your pain
forego ego Be
a - cross threshold
Echo Be Echo

What I will give you
since you asked
lilies wild
midst seas of grass
shining lights all your days
This is what
I give,
what I ask of you
is nothing
I am blessed
by the smallest...
of lifes attentions.

Ring
Hugged gravity of the gibbous
this perfect circle a chipped white plate
its center pale reached the compass leg
enscribing silvery thought red to violet
surrounding bow. How is the world
broken turning in stillness not our moon?

Rising
So large...the tide roiling the sea-wound
and broil like a dream afraid our moon
near. A pale basket being hauled
into the sky beginning a separation
the amazed heart swelling a redness
failing in the west our breath caught up.

Full
What I carry with me from the North
fallen into a glittering field
of sea the waters many small instincts
the timid openings of memory.
Whatever I was, whoever you
are, dolor of luna origins
all around us this stripping off this
pallor as we step out of our names...

adamant and beautiful
with worlds sleeping in our palm
playing in the dark changing into a game
of the day disclosing circle
i fall asleep and wake up
in a land where above
citrus fruit haze rises up the spiral
acceptance of inhaling and exhaling
by the vast water with its mystic bounce
and I'm filling up
with every moment
i grasp more and more space
and life in it
throwing the dice i belong
i have love for the same reason
that you are in every raindrop
washing away and rousing silence
in our eyes where several suns are holding
one another with no arms...there...and here
playing in the dark turning into a gala of the light
with you...(always)...with your single breath
as its center.

The space between
the inhale and the
exhale is not so much

a pause as it is a link

a
thread
between

what has been
and
what will be

and that is where
you reside in me

i coalesce
with ease
from breath
to breathing

its sheen
fixes krsna
to speech: a
man can

elevate himself
by his
own mind,
breath to

breathe and
knowing.
benign then
motive

bloods run
thudding
thick & thin
in the waters

deliverance
loves
and
creation

what we shall say
is that,
under sense,
they

cut through the
storms
slipping
clean, away

to the divine
numbering
one to nine
allowing you

to believe
with uniqueness
the way
I remain

This is the Master of heaven, who is like unto Venus and the
moon, and this is the house of Love, which is without bound and
end.

Rumi

sculpture
moon
abyss

sun
bird
star

strangers in a hidden world

I noticed two blue dragonflies hovering, end
to end, above a pond, as if twisting
the iridescence deep into each others
body, abdomens withering, spiraling
into the wing-beaten air. And your voice
comes back to me through the trees, this word
for what we couldn't help but do
to each other -- a thin sigh, unwinding.

Love means you breathe in two countries

what if you were able
to know what I have felt
when powered by the way
we are made
I have felt all of my body
its excess and its strength
thrive up to the creation of my middle
spine steepling to bring me closer
to the speed of gravity
to share that
with you
would be a divine relation

Oxygen feeds a flame

I invite you to breathe this way

Your heart is flying, he said
his weight against her chest
It does that, she said
drawing him in

moving over forest gold
i wish you were an owl
gliding slowly into the night
to see you pass the big silver moon
and watch as your wings
swim the current
of our interlaced soul

do you prefer the deep rise of natural evening
to ride the currents of the earth
as if inertia  - the steam of its own propelling?
do you too possess that boundless energy?
energy of what? of affinity! of pestilence!
...it is unavoidable...
i am both

so...tell me
tell me so...
what do you hear when the sun comes descending
when the rain stops...and starts...and stops again?
I know you hear afar this
silence
I know your feet dont understand our
stillness

You dont know me but
we trapeze anyway
tomorrow more
unpredictability & freedom
tomorrow or the next day
or the day after that
all i know is
Today
is an acrobat

Yo sueño que regreso
un día cualquiera
to the pleasure of letting
the earth slip through my fingers
Yo vivo en permanente exilio
when I dream
I can only speak in tongues of desire
when I dream
of stretched bodies as my island
awaiting me
Yo puedo perderme en las prominencias
de tu cuerpo
in the sugar cane flavor of your tongue
in the dark cinnamon color of your gaze
Yo puedo perderme rozando tus riberas
like a wave
piérdase dentro de usted
Yo sólo sueño que regreso
I can only speak in the tongues of desire
en vuelo
from your body

what is tucked between entangled hair
and the moment somewhat marvelous
is the truth that there is nothing
between us except for us

the light can surely see us
as there is a hum
beating...a glow
but all one hears
is the sea
upon nearby rockiness
and voices
which chorus
through the floating nights
the sky...white
dashing with gleam
the moon melting...
through the horizon
where my vibrant mica star
glints your pearls
blissfully sweet

"...babae!"

“qué pasa?”
“einu sinni enn sólin skín, afturkoma...”
universo de universos,
la lumière luit dans the darkness
en medio del silencio profundo:
“khob, no ké resid bé bâzâr kohné shavad delâzâr” -
en la eternitad…
la luz, no pueden sofocarla,
se para la marea, y no saber adónde vamos…
«róba, pródajeteli ?» «né,dósta»;
et Parcae dixerunt saeculo: mahlip...
iau, atti, attunu, mamma, mala bašû -
esperad todavía

Under the Bo-tree
the Budd-ha-to-be
sought something
beyond opposites,
beyond thought
Talking about it,
even here, in the
holy tabernacle of verse,
is missing it.
Instead of turning away.
In the giving up,
between the giving up
and the engagé
his page will be
our distance
going blank
with all that
you seek.

Wings too divine
in air so cold its edges mark
winters end and springs first pulse.
In the poised crystal I fly silhouettes
that fold closed, then open,
now in prayer, now in possibility.

this...heart...just...knows

?...tis dis oan abut mi...?

run << from >> t e <<

c h a n * g o

run >> towards << n w >>

Consciousness is More Vast than Language
Greater than Your Personality
Love is a Key
To Your Power
And
Your Joy

We are pain and what cures pain, both.
We are the sweet cold water and the jar that pours.
I want to hold you close like a lute,
so that we can cry out with loving.
Would you rather throw stones at a mirror?
I am your mirror and here are the stones.

Rumi

this = love

I watched you
grow full of suspicions
making guesses weigh more
get too large
A forest of tall-grown illusions
each whispering their own stories.

Lost in the trees
Daphne, too, is not what he seems.
The birds that nest on his branches
never suspect that he
bark-covered
refused the love of a paradise
the love of a god.

You said
I sing you know
Oh, I know you sing
like a bird, I bet
but not for me
not to me
Then you walked away
toward the trees,
sprouting leaves.

ample make this bed
make this bed with awe

A LONG FALL INTO
INTELLIGENCE

in love with

WHITE SEA CLIFF EDGES
PATH THROUGH CYPRESS...WHERE WE'RE HEADED

eyes open

The crushed lava and
coral bed of your
meaning falls between
parted fingers, opening
dusk concealed between
stars. Nine heavens of
Tagaloa circle
above the children of
earth and spirit:
 the heart, a woman
the earth, a man

Are you
sad?
Yes, but not
like that
she said
and
swam
away.

Enchantment
is a song
the body must remember how to sing.

persistent perennial pleasure in place amongst the peripheral paranormal perfection of predicted preferred predicaments perceived in penetrated personal panoramic peacefulness of parallel passages procrastinating phonetic participation

In my body of skin of moss of clover
I touch fingers to fingers
lips to lips
the exposed tip of the heart

Seed work Sun work Earth work
If pansies are for thoughts
I pick them early in the morning so they last

your lips are missing the story

Recite a large print love aria
into my lower back

Seek out my amiable arch
appearing in the dropped-beauty of the rooftop

Like a dragon it radiates flame

I applaud you as a founder passing
between

and tell me then what to make
of the candle flickering, drilled into the glacier
which will then expire
while he respires...still although
and assures that what is is
and what is not is (anyhow, what the hell)

. . . al hezzaz catches al hamama
. . . al khiate satisfies al taleb
. . . an naasse surprises al mokabeul
. . . az zoddame meets al zeunbar

I cradle your world
therein I could never touch

morning loves removed lovers
and we are
brutally
removed

tepori, gli uni agli altri,
vedette, sempre visitanti,
quiete non resta mai,
mano che non avvolge,
lacera, accartoccia,
torce la pelle, un livido,
e ne fa stemma, stigma,
un accadere muto, trafelato,
un rapido interrompere.
vuoi che si assordi, che rimanga?

It will be a glorious day
when you melt into the earth

Mujer de mi vida, ven a las agues. Ayúdame a purificarme con el exorcismo pagano. Mira mi casa y sus lumbres, no te quedes en la superficialidad, no escribas sobre tu carne los nombres de peces.

Según las circunstancias he traficado con las hojas que se acercan y con voces.

Mi casa es la cabeza, decir esto me reconforta.

X – Why such nothing.
Y – Let it be between us.
X – Why this less than that.
Y – There is only this us at now.
X – Why such serial why.
Y – I remain your hybrid half of this.
Y – I am also not yet an other.
Y – Nor even this as such yet and now.
X – This then at that.
Y – Only then as such.

eight inches
solar plexus

They...they tell me
Heaven is in these lips
But
Once I...I...well I kissed the bottom of the sole
Of the foot of a boy
Who ran into the ocean and
Drowned deep
Down below...

incline

interval. wonder.
statement as indicator. never. always.
always. never. abstract designs.
small paths. the equation of the tangent mind.
wander. circle. between/
idea/configuration.
ourselves trusted.


´´´´

design in blue

logic/probability
random/calculated

transcendental numbers
irrational numbers

complex numbers
real & imaginary

two parallel universes meet


````

precarious

the balance of leaf

the balance of star

unknown pages

maps hidden in clouds

geometrical patterns perceived in trees

silence & uncertainty manifesting

infinity times two


´´´´


voyaging
precarious

our
voices
waves

speculate
light

suns
moons

contour
air

our
bodies
in
orchards

wind
&
iris


````

poet
&
artist

floating
worlds

philosophic
worlds

fleeting

inclined
indirect

Each of our bodies
represents an approach
to movement within
the world’s circumference

my muscles soften underneath the
chinese-water-torture-drip
of seconds passing into seconds
passing into years
every time i come near

Heads bowed,
her knees crumb-ling,
him sinking.
She holds a photo,
him squinting.
the Sun
the son.

Sun at the wheel,
the blank motion is still
further by far than far away.
But on the move, on its way.

Sometimes I think that
Mother Nature could have breast fed

deep Sea dive
listening for the
mysterious Rhythms
we make
slipping in my fingers
somersault ricochet
closed eyes
Open Me

atoms listen with their purple cells
and...dont ask
the unsure-what it means-

Vibrate

Yo
Xu
Izaz
Ya-Ish
Ish-We-Ye-E
Ko
A
Naa
Ae
O
Ish-Tai-Ish
Ku
Zu-O-Ko-A-Sha-Naa

the miracle of changed consciousness
comes from placing the attention
above the difficulties of the day

with deep Gratitude
comes true humility
a key to the Fountain of Youth

Gratitude lights the way to enthusiasm.
enthusiasm clears the path to Love
Love is the key to freedom

BE
fountains of youth,
standing waves
whhirrrling, swirling to sur-face
shifting slightly...
just enough to
make wakes of Gratitude

dizziness optional

GOOD
NESS


love...why dont you just sweep me off my feet
anyways...please saleei
keep it comin'

Divine Coding

contained within Gratitude:

egg = beginning = creation
spiral = journey = discovery
circle = completion = return to Now


this formula,
held sacred for all creative purposes,
Will Divinely structure Now
to support
all generations

Living in Love

When you accept changes in your sovereign reality
as the shifting persona of the Universal Soul,
you live in greater harmony with life itself.

Life becomes an exchange of energy between you
and the Universal Soul that is allowed to play out;
without judgment, and is experienced without fear.
This is the underlying meaning of unconditional love:
to experience life in all its manifestations as a single,
unified intelligence that responds perfectly to the projected image of each soul.


It is for this reason that when you project Gratitude to the Universal Soul,
regardless of circumstance or condition,
life becomes increasingly supportive in opening you to activate your divine imprints.
This feeling of Gratitude coupled with the mental concept of appreciation
is expressed like an invisible message in all directions and at all times.


In this particular context, gratitude to the Universal Soul
is the overarching motive behind all forms of expression to which humanity aspires.


Every breath, every word, every touch, every thought, every thing
is centered on expressing this sense of Gratitude;
a Gratitude that you are sovereign and supported by a Universal Soul
that expresses itself through all forms and manifestations of intelligence
with the sole objective of creating the ideal reality
to activate your divine imprints
and transform your entire being into Divine Essence.


It is this specific form of Gratitude that accelerates
the activation of your divine imprints
and their peculiar ability to integrate the disparate components
of your body, mind, heart, and soul, and to transform them
to the state of perception and expression of Divine Essence....


Establishing a relationship with the universe
through the outflow of Gratitude
also attracts life experience that is trans formative -
experience that is richly devoted to uncovering life's
deepest meaning and most formative purpose.

Open your fist.
As my hand withdraws,
I bring it to my chest
My nest.

My arm moves across you.

Hands face
your body. They form an X.

Outside
Within

Raise the wheel while spinning
Hands near your temples
Raise your body

On the moon, not a cloud,
a catastrophic glow - O
the stars are little doors, little doors,
open one, a million more.

Every life is braided with luminous moments.

I was with a friend out on Loch Corrib, the largest lake in the West of Ireland. It was a beautiful summer's day. Time had come to rest in the silence and stillness that presided there. The lake slept without a ripple. A grey-blue haze enfolded everything. There was no division any more between earth and sky. Reaching far into the distance, everything was suffused in a majestic blue light. The mountains of Conamara seemed like pile upon pile of delicate blue; you felt you could almost reach out your hand and pull them towards you. No object protruded anywhere. Trees, stones, fields and islands had forgotten themselves in the daze of blue. Then, suddenly, a harsh flutter as near us the lake surface split and a huge cormorant flew from inside the water and struck up into the air. Its ragged black wings and large awkward shape were like an eruption from the underworld. Against the finely woven blue everywhere its strange form fluttered and gleamed in absolute black. She had the place to herself. She was the one clear object to be seen. And as if to conceal the source as she soared, she left her shadow thistling the lake surface. This was an event of pure disclosure: a sudden epiphany from between the worlds. The strange beauty of the cormorant was a counterpoint to the dreamlike delicacy of the lake and the landscape. Sometimes beauty is that unpredictable; a threshold we had never noticed opens, mystery comes alive around us and we realize how the earth is full of concealed beauty. St Augustine expressed this memorably: 'I asked the earth, I asked the sea and the deeps, among the living animals, the things that creep. I asked the winds that blow, I asked the heavens, the sun, the moon, the stars, and to all things that stand at the doors of my flesh ... My question was the gaze I turned to them. Their answer was their beauty.'

Beauty Is Quietly Woven through Our Days

When we hear the word 'beauty', we inevitably think that beauty belongs in a special elite realm where only the extraordinary dwells. Yet without realizing it, each day each one of us is visited by beauty. When you actually listen to people, it is surprising how often beauty is mentioned. A world without beauty would be unbearable. Indeed the subtle touches of beauty are what enable most people to survive. Yet beauty is so quietly woven through our ordinary days that we hardly notice it. Everywhere there is tenderness, care and kindness, there is beauty. Despite our natural difficulties with our parents, each of us has in our memory moments of deep love we shared with them. Perhaps it was a moment in which you became aware of some infinite tenderness in the way your mother gazed upon you, and you knew that her heart would always carry you as tenderly as it carried herself. Or it might have been a phrase of affection that has continued to sound around your life like a bright circle of blessing.

In Greek the word for 'the beautiful' is to kalon. It is related to the word kalein which includes the notion of 'call'. When we experience beauty, we feel called. The Beautiful stirs passion and urgency in us and calls us forth from aloneness into the warmth and wonder of an eternal embrace. It unites us again with the neglected and forgotten grandeur of life. The call of beauty is not a cold call into the dark or the unknown; in some instinctive way we know that beauty is no stranger. We respond with joy to the call of beauty because in an instant it can awaken under the layers of the heart a forgotten brightness. Plato said: 'Beauty was ours in all its brightness ... Whole were we who celebrated that festival' (Phaedrus).

Beauty does not linger, it only visits. Yet beauty's visitation affects us and invites us into its rhythm, it calls us to feel, think and act beautifully in the world: to create and live a life that awakens the Beautiful. A life without delight is only half a life. Lest this be construed as a plea for decadence or a self-indulgence that is blind to the horrors of the world, we should remember that beauty does not restrict its visitations only to those whom fortune or circumstances favour. Indeed, it is often the whispers and glimpses of beauty which enable people to endure on desperate frontiers.

Even, and perhaps especially, in the bleakest times, we can still discover and awaken beauty; these are precisely the times when we need it most. Nowhere else can we find the joy that beauty brings. Joy is not simply the fruit of circumstance; we can choose to be joyous independent of what is happening around us. The joyful heart sees and reads the world with a sense of freedom and graciousness. Despite all the difficult turns on the road, it never loses sight of the world as a gift. St Augustine said: 'The soul is weighed in the balance by what delights her. Delight or enjoyment sets the soul in her ordered place. Where the delight is, there is the treasure.' Perhaps this is why there is such delight in beauty. In the midst of fragmentation and distress beauty draws the soul into an experience where an elegant order prevails. This brings a lovely tranquillity and satisfies the desire of the soul. When the Beautiful continues on its way, the soul has been strengthened by a delight that will further assist her in transfiguring struggle.

-----

speed of nerve impulse = 136 meters per second
speed of sound = 340.29 meters per second
speed of light = 186,000 miles per second
speed of thought = will
speed of intention = discipline
speed of acceptance = grace
speed of release = compassion
speed of Love = You
speed of Gratitude = Now

Awakening is a flowering of your innermost being.
It is a revelation of your essence,
hidden by long eons of self-delusion,
ignorance,
unbounded desires.

Enlightenment is an ending as well as a beginning:
the ending of the old, veiled, dark ego,
its longings, illusions, frustrations;
the beginning of a vast expanse,
an infinite field of the Unknown,
an adventure in consciousness.

It is a revolution:
it represents danger to the old way of life,
to old ways of thinking and living.

It is freedom from the known and the unknown;
from the real and the unreal;
from any appearance of division between you and Truth.

It is the abandoning of beliefs, dis-beliefs,
presumptions and stances,
self, ego,
call it what you will,
or call it nothing,
what it is.

It is the Path of the golden Dawn,
the Path out of the Night of Time
into the Bursting daylight of Eternal Now...

- Petros

i : you : too

water crystals reveal
structural alterations
bent by vibration
being currently
arranged to display Now

love beats true
within waking waters of time
called You and I

masterfully guided through Gratitude
this Source force Will create
bodies bent on behaving with
benevolent intentions
designed to witness

Life as waking Art

December is a key transitional month in which it's essential that we get ourselves unstuck from our old patterns and leap onto our new level, The River of Love. Throughout the month there will be Quantum Surf to help us break through. The entire momentum of the prevailing currents is leading us forward into an extremely exciting time, the time we have been waiting for, and we really don't want to miss it!

We've spent lifetimes mining for gold in a place that has already been stripped of all its minerals. There is no more gold left hidden in these rocks. And yet many of us are still mining there and feeling the constant disappointment that we are not finding what we have been so diligently searching for. This has caused us to become disheartened or numbly passive. It has made us lose our trust and covered us with a fine layer of dust.

We haven't found what we've been looking for because we've been looking for it in the wrong places and the wrong timing, not because we were looking for the wrong things. Our truest heart's desires are absolutely valid and they are finally on the brink of manifesting on the physical.

We have passed the Point of No Return. There is no going backwards and there is no more traveling on old roads. If we do, it will shorten our time on this planet and damage our beings. Remember, "OUR ONLY OPTION IS TO SUCCEED." Indeed, our only option is to now move our beings onto the totally new level which is right in front of us, and to jump into the River of Love with our full beings.

As increasing numbers of us leap into the River of Love, the resonance of Real True Love will spread all over the world, strengthening the resonance of Love for all and dissolving the final knots of duality.

I move through drifting fog smoke rising from black vernal pools a dark spiral above tight piers of tiny boats circling fields beyond watercolor dunes cool lupine renegade poppies fiery mustard cascading i hear loves voice restless hanging reverberating in the air disturbing tones from a kabuki spring trance siberian sentencing from my mouth witness to where the silver moon flies into dreams kingdom mosaic musings awaking to my face tranquil to bliss

Fire is to flourish
in language
limbs fade together
fortress of distance
release the heartache
where skin is molten
in a moment his stillness
rattles my core

And in this cascading bed
I shudder at the intruder
excused to the comparisons
of nighttime howling
with nothing left to bother
but with breadcrumbs in hand

HS

i can jump a three thousand year old desert
i can bound over the mountains of the moon
i can bend over jupiters blues
i can allow the seas to send seven songs of wisdom
from their deep throated estuaries
i can allow the stars to shine
but i can never call the rain mine

yet.
i am still a six thousand year old cave painting. yours
i am still a bat in an attic. yours
i am still a bee in the ceiling. yours
i am still a butterfly in a lanternhouse. yours

you are still that sunbeam that races over the sand. mine
you are still that corner i am about to walk around. mine
you are still channels and winds alive. mine
you are still that lofty
love making
arm bending
granite crunching
heart of. mine

A strange passion is moving in my head.
My heart has become a bird which searches
in the sky.
Every part of me goes in different directions.
Is it really so that the one I love is everywhere?

- Rumi

to move from there
all embracing trancendental nature
names forms disappear within
free from illusory covering
free from false consciousness
infinite knowledge
liberation
purity
flavor
bonds
devour time
gentle mother recreate
eternal night
power of energy
formless passion
boundless freedom
manifest state of sound
be nature
illumined consciousness
the bright fire of truth
all merge
reveal the infinite
death of death
mysteries
a spiral line movement
movement of creation
compassion
ribbons of light
understand
worlds of light
the lady of life

And who are you to tell me that this heaven we all dream of is not really just this earth we breathe in...?

Mercy, love, Mercy

The light, the light!
The searching, the seeking!
In chaos, in chaos!

The mother swells expanding from within outwards
Darkness radiates light
Behold the radiant child of the two...
The unparalleled...
Revulgent glory...
Bright space...
Son of dark space

Ils ont trouvé un trou dans mon coeur...
La marque de beauté je dirais
Les échos de moi...
Epargner des bébés accidentels
Faire taire maintenant...
Mis expliquer
Vous et la lune...
Il n'aura jamais d'importance

The purpose of the body is to experience life fully. The body becomes a vehicle for the intelligence by which it is able to experience life fully. In order to make sound more audible people build domes and other places where resonance is produced and the voice and the words become more clear. So the construction of the body is intended to make all that is perceptible clear. By nature the body is the vehicle of the intelligence or the soul, by which it experiences life fully. But as man has lived for generations a life of increasing artificiality, he has moved farther and farther from nature; therefore this vehicle which was made a perfect instrument to experience life fully has become less and less capable of attaining that object. It is this incapability of experiencing life fully, and the innate desire to experience it, which makes the soul strive for spiritual attainment. What man does not know he thinks does not exist; in this is to be found the origin of materialism. But the tendency towards spiritual realization remains there as an innate desire which is consciously or unconsciously felt by every soul, whether spiritual or material. It is for this reason that even a material person has a silent craving in his heart to probe the depth of the very spiritual ideal which he disowns.

The work of the senses is to experience, to taste, smell, touch, hear, and see; but besides these senses there is the inner sense which is one sense. It is by experiencing through the different organs of the senses that this one sense becomes many senses. It is the same sense which hears, smells, tastes, feels, touches; but because it experiences life through different organs, man divides one sense into five senses. The depth of that sense which is the inner sense is more subtle than one can imagine. When that sense finds a free expression it not only experiences life more keenly through the organs of the senses, but it becomes independent of the organs of sense. It penetrates through life deeply, and as Kabir says, 'It sees without eyes and hears without ears'. The reason is this: that all that exists is contained in an accommodation and by being in the nature of all things is revealed.

In fact there is nothing in this world which does not speak. Everything and every being is continually calling out its nature, its character and its secret; and the more the inner sense is open, the more it becomes capable of hearing the voice of all things. In every person this sense exists, but for the most part, hidden, buried; and its being buried gives discomfort, for it is something which is living, the only living being there is. The idea of the 'lost word' has its secret in this; when once this inner sense has broken the walls which keep it enclosed, it breathes the freedom and happiness which belong to the soul; the soul attains. Every discomfort, from whatever source, comes through the lack of understanding. The more the inner sense is covered, the more the soul finds itself in obscurity. It is for this reason that the sign of the enlightened soul is readiness to understand; therefore these souls are easy to reconcile. When a person can understand himself better, he can make another person understand better also. But when a person is perplexed himself, instead of making another person understand, he confuses him. In this way differences are produced.

The organs of the senses are the accommodations of grosser and finer nature. The finer the organ the more perception it has; the grossness takes away from the organ its power of perception.

This shows that the body may be likened to a glass house made of mirrors. In Persian language the poets have called it Aina Khana, meaning the 'Temple of mirrors'. The eye stands as a mirror before all that is visible;it reflects all that it sees. The ears are the accommodation for the re-echo of every sound that falls upon them. The senses of touch and of taste are grosser than the senses of sight and hearing. At the same time their nature is the same; all the different sweet, sour and salt savors, and the feeling of warmth and cold, are perceived by them, and they stand as mirrors in which objects are reflected. Therefore, as one sees oneself reflected in the mirror, so this body stands as a mirror in which every experience of the outer life is reflected, and is made clear. If the mirror is dusty it does not reflect the image clearly, so the experience of life is not clear when the body is not looked after according to the spiritual point of view.

The scriptures say that the body is the Temple of God; but the right interpretation of this saying would be that the body is made to be the Temple of God; a temple cannot be called a Temple of God if God is not brought and placed there. So it is natural when a soul feels depressed that there is something wrong with the vehicle. When the writer wishes to work, and the pen is not in order, it annoys him; there is nothing the matter with the writer; it is the pen which is not right. No discomfort comes from the soul; the soul is happy by nature; the soul is happiness itself. It becomes unhappy when something is the matter with its vehicle, which is its instrument, its tool, with which to experience life. Care of the body, therefore, is the first and the most important principle of religion. Piety without this thought is of little significance.

The soul manifests in this world in order that it may experience the different phases of manifestation, and yet may not lose its way and be lost, but may attain to its original freedom, in addition to the experience and knowledge it has gained in this world. The different exercises that the Sufis and Yogis do in order to enable the mind and body to experience life more fully, exercises such as fasting, pose, posture, movement, they all help to train the body, that it may become a fitting vehicle for the experience of life. Wonder-working, such as psychometry, feeling the atmosphere of places, of objects, of people, comes when the body is also prepared for it.

A person may be intelligent, clever, learned, good or pious, and yet his sense of perception may not be fully awake. It must be remembered as the first principle of life that manifestation was destined for keener observation of life within and without.

The greatest unhappiness that a person feels is from lack of mastery; the unhappiness comes when knowing his mastery he yet cannot practice that which he knows. Sadness comes from limitation, limitation in different forms: lack of perception, lack of power over oneself, or over conditions, or from the lack of that substance which is happiness itself, which is love.

There is sometimes lack of understanding, though there may be love, or lack of love through lack of understanding;there may be both things and lack of power. If love has reached perfection it will attain all three powers;when love becomes power, it becomes understanding. The nature of love is as the nature of water in the depths of the earth. If one does not dig deep enough one finds sand, not water; but when one digs deep enough one finds water. Many lovers of God lose patience, trust and hope; they have touched sand and not reached water, but when they have dug deep enough they find pure water.

As there are different organs of senses, so there are five centers of inner perception. These centers are seats of the intuitive faculties. Two among them are of great importance: the heart and the head. If the Sufi training differs from that of the Yogis, it is in the training of both these centers together, by which the Sufi achieves balance. The head without the heart shows dry intellect. The heart without the head represents an unbalanced condition. Balance is the use of both these faculties. The Sufi training is based upon this principle.

The centers may be likened to the space that one finds in the apple. It is an accommodation, where not only scent, touch, hearing and sight are perceived, but even the thought and feeling of another; the condition in the atmosphere, the pleasure and displeasure of one's fellow-man are perceived, and if the sense of perception is keener, then even past, present and future are revealed. When man does not perceive in this way it does not mean that it is foreign to his nature; it only means that the soul has not developed that power of perception in his body. The absence of such free perception naturally causes depression and confusion, for the soul longs for a keen perception; and it feels confused, and at times agitated, owing to a lack of a fuller perception, as the person who is blind feels nervous agitation, because the inner longing is to see, and when the organ of sight fails he becomes agitated.

This is generally the cause in many souls who feel restless. And the life man lives is a life of artificiality, it works against him. It is not necessary to read the ancient traditions to find out the truth about this. Today in the people who live a less artificial life, a more simple life, a life in and near nature, the intuitive faculties are more keen, and these people show a greater happiness.

The centers become blocked by certain foods and by living a more materialistic life. They are located in certain places; and as there are some plants in the caves of the mountains where the sun and the air do not reach, and it is difficult for the plants to live, so are the centers of perception located in the physical body; the body is nourished by food, but these centers remain without any nourishment.

The physical body is made of matter, its substance is matter; but the centers of perception are of still finer matter, and though they are located in the physical body, no nourishment can reach them, except that which is drawn through the breath, the fine substance which is not even visible. In the language of the mystics it is called Nur, which means light. The body does not only want food, but also breath, in other words vibration, and that vibration is given to it by the repetition of sacred words. The sounds, the vowels, and the composition of the sacred words is chemical, and it is this process which was called by the ancient philosophers Alchemy. These centers are the domes where every sound has its echo, and the echo once produced in this Asman reaches all other Asmans which exist within and without. Therefore the repetition of a sacred word has not only to do with oneself and one's life, but it spreads and rises higher than man can imagine, and wider than he can perceive. Verily every action sets in movement every atom of the universe.

When once the inner sense has become keen it shows its development first by working through the organs of the senses. The vision becomes clearer, the hearing becomes keener, the sense or touch felt more keenly, sense of taste and smell clearer. Therefore among those who tread the mystic path one finds many who are sensitive, and become more sensitive as they develop spiritually. As the standard of health known by the average person is much beneath the mystical ideal, so to the uninitiated the sensitiveness of a person of mystical temperament may often seem peculiar. At the same time when this sensitiveness is developed by spiritual training, and is under control, it manifests as the first quality in the life of a seer. The body which covers the soul keeps it blind by depriving it of its freedom of expression in keener perception. It is like a captivity for the soul. When the centers of the body are awakened and at work, then the soul experiences life more clearly, and naturally clouds which give depression clear away. The soul begins to look forward to life with hope, with trust, and with courage; and thus attains that power and understanding which is needed in the struggle for Life.

When a little more advanced, the intelligence begins to see through the eyes what every eye cannot see: the finer forces of nature manifesting in color and form. There are many who talk much about this, and some who know and say little, for they do not see wisdom in speaking about something which their neighbor does not see. And among those who speak much about seeing things which others do not see, there is hardly one who really sees.

There is no doubt that, as the sight becomes keen, first the colors of different elements working in nature manifest to the view; secondly, the atmosphere that is created around man, which is composed of semi-material atoms also becomes manifest. This is what is called the aura. The different colors of this aura express the meaning, for there is nothing in this world which is without meaning. The one who pursues the meaning of life in all its aspects hears again in them the Word which was once lost for him. No doubt the life of a sensitive person becomes difficult, especially when one has to live among the crowd. It is for this reason the Brahmins lived an exclusive life, which has been criticized by some who do not know the meaning of it. Different practices of breathing are a great help in training both mind and body to make them more perceptive, in order that they may become fitting vehicles to fulfil the purpose of life.

--UK

Hope...
put that gun to your head

the red flame smooths my edges
and settles around the wick
flickering the light
with my hips swinging
an iridescent dress
above the dripping wax
clothes fall in infinite fold
from fingers sliding
so smooth they mold
to my back and
turn our breath into smoke

Holy!

Holy! Holy!
Heaven and Earth are full.
Dear fish,
I say to you,
Heaven and Earth are full -
so what shall you do?

On a puddle,

I stumble,

loitering on the open palm of your shadow.

The world is blue at its edges and in its depths. This blue is the light that got lost. Light at the blue end of the spectrum does not travel the wole distance from the sun to us. It disperses amoung the molecules of the air, it scatters in water. Water is colorless, shallow water appears to be the color of whatever lies underneath it, but deep water is full of this scattered light, the purer the water the deeper the blue. The sky is blue for the same reason, but the blue at the horizon, the blue of land that seems to be dissolving into the sky, is a deeper, dreamier, melancholy blue, the blue at the farthest reaches of the places where you see for miles, the blue of distance. This light that does not touch us, does not travel the whole distance, the light that gets lost, gives us the beauty of the world, so much of which is in the color blue.

Love is something that is new, fresh, alive. It has no yesterday and no tomorrow. It is beyond the turmoil of thought. It is only the innocent mind which knows what love is, and the innocent mind can live in the world which is not innocent. To find this extraordinary thing which man has sought endlessly through sacrifice, through worship, through relationship, through sex, through every form of pleasure and pain, is only possible when thought comes to understand itself and comes naturally to an end. Then love has no opposite, then love has no conflict. You may ask, `If I find such a love, what happens to my wife, my children, my family? They must have security.' When you put such a question you have never been outside the field of thought, the field of consciousness. When once you have been outside that field you will never ask such a question because then you will know what love is in which there is no thought and therefore no time. You may read this mesmerized and enchanted, but actually to go beyond thought and time - which means going beyond sorrow - is to be aware that there is a different dimension called love. But you don't know how to come to this extraordinary fount - so what do you do? If you don't know what to do, you do nothing, don't you? Absolutely nothing. Then inwardly you are completely silent. Do you understand what that means? It means that you are not seeking, not wanting, not pursuing; there is no centre at all. Then there is love.

to bring together simultaneously
the devotional and the diplomatic
rather than the work that attempts to
take step shake stimulate space
where that split does not subsist
where the stories repeat the same old plots
the space is dark and half-forgotten
but within it lies a power that runs
counter to the principle of domination
upon which our society is based
in essence this is about power
about the difference between
clouds over the state and a nation enclosed
about the stories and thought-forms that convey control
about ethics based on influence within the illicit limiting
leaving it moves in the dark vision
and action magic evoking
transforming ourselves our people our exposure
resisting the destruction
dark ribbons of the road
we pass orchards of oranges and fields of wild mustard
we know
we know witches old religions the goddess
we know
we know the moon akin in sprit form myth
drawing underlining experience
rituals to change
values awakening power
within the bodies
walls connecting nature with the goddess
reinventing changing
emerge alive
as the gypsy dwellers honor
a source of inner mental intangible life
nothing could grow but
the ability to divine the future
to build create to bond
activities of the flesh
ecological destruction
challenging domination
that seeks to connect with
the root
the heart
the source of life
by changing a growing realization
secretly silently underground
related by blood
retelling the passion
feeding it
to break the mold
to dream the moonless as change
to create it in a new image
because...it creates us
giving birth
listening to the shadows
opening the minds eye
all that we don't want to see
turning change
skin soft in the night
life forms itself anew in hidden places
a journey to question our culture on the edge of annihilation
finding the dark revolutionized as our own power
a new image dreamt into action kind and charged
reserved for the unseen
coiled in the heart of every cell of every living thing
the spark of every nerve
and the life of every breath
a sudden flash in the sky
smoking flesh
constantly pushing history
as a commitment to action deepened
even though
i must end somewhere
the journey continues
a journey through fear
a descent into the light
promising something at the end
we know shaped by these words
we can make different choices
consciousness shapes reality
reality shapes consciousness
magic is art
possibilities of fulfillment
hundreds of thousands of small decisions
we are not in truth strangers to this world
we are a part of the circle
to run through the redwoods that sweat mist
we are not separate
we are of the world

--xx

im incredibly upside...

...dont stop...



down...

Making love
then making toast
one Sunday morning
they caught a glimpse of
other people
rather like themselves
long before
time went on

Join the Resistance and Fall in Love

Falling in love is the ultimate act of revolution, of resistance to today's tedious, socially restrictive, culturally constrictive, humanly meaningless world.

Love transforms the world. Where the lover formerly felt boredom, he now feels passion. Where she once was complacent, she now is excited and compelled to self-asserting action. The world which once seemed empty and tiresome becomes filled with meaning, filled with risks and rewards, with majesty and danger. Life for the lover is a gift, an adventure with the highest possible stakes; every moment is memorable, heartbreaking in its fleeting beauty. When he falls in love, a man who once felt disoriented, alienated, and confused will know exactly what he wants. Suddenly his existence will make sense to him; suddenly it becomes valuable, even glorious and noble, to him. Burning passion is an antidote that will cure the worst cases of despair and resigned obedience.

Love makes it possible for individuals to connect to others in a meaningful way—it impels them to leave their shells and risk being honest and spontaneous together, to come to know each other in profound ways. Thus love makes it possible for them to care about each other genuinely, rather than at the end of the gun of Christian doctrine. But at the same time, it plucks the lover out of the routines of everyday life and separates her from other human beings. She will feel a million miles away from the herd of humanity, living as she is in a world entirely different from theirs.

In this sense love is subversive, because it poses a threat to the established order of our modern lives. The boring rituals of workday productivity and socialized etiquette will no longer mean anything to a man who has fallen in love, for there are more important forces guiding him than mere inertia and deference to tradition. Marketing strategies that depend upon apathy or insecurity to sell the products that keep the economy running as it does will have no effect upon him. Entertainment designed for passive consumption, which depends upon exhaustion or cynicism in the viewer, will not interest him.

There is no place for the passionate, romantic lover in today's world, business or private. For he can see that it might be more worthwhile to hitchhike to Alaska (or to sit in the park and watch the clouds sail by) with his sweetheart than to study for his calculus exam or sell real estate, and if he decides that it is, he will have the courage to do it rather than be tormented by unsatisfied longing. He knows that breaking into a cemetery and making love under the stars will make for a much more memorable night than watching television ever could. So love poses a threat to our consumer-driven economy, which depends upon consumption of (largely useless) products and the labor that this consumption necessitates to perpetuate itself.

Similarly, love poses a threat to our political system, for it is difficult to convince a man who has a lot to live for in his personal relationships to be willing to fight and die for an abstraction such as the state; for that matter, it may be difficult to convince him to even pay taxes. It poses a threat to cultures of all kinds, for when human beings are given wisdom and valor by true love they will not be held back by traditions or customs which are irrelevant to the feelings that guide them.

Love even poses a threat to our society itself. Passionate love is ignored and feared by the bourgeoisie, for it poses a great danger to the stability and pretense they covet. Love permits no lies, no falsehoods, not even any polite half-truths, but lays all emotions bare and reveals secrets which domesticated men and women cannot bear. You cannot lie with your emotional and sexual response; situations or ideas will excite or repel you whether you like it or not, whether it is polite or not, whether it is advisable or not. One cannot be a lover and a (dreadfully) responsible, (dreadfully) respectable member of today's society at the same time; for love will impel you to do things which are not "responsible" or "respectable." True love is irresponsible, irrepressible, rebellious, scornful of cowardice, dangerous to the lover and everyone around her, for it serves one master alone: the passion that makes the human heart beat faster. It disdains anything else, be it self-preservation, obedience, or shame. Love urges men and women to heroism, and to antiheroism—to indefensible acts that need no defense for the one who loves.

For the lover speaks a different moral and emotional language than the typical bourgeois man does. The average bourgeois man has no overwhelming, smoldering desires. Sadly, all he knows is the silent despair that comes of spending his life pursuing goals set for him by his family, his educators, his employers, his nation, and his culture, without ever being able to even consider what needs and wants he might have of his own. Without the burning fire of desire to guide him, he has no criteria upon which to choose what is right and wrong for himself. Consequently he is forced to adopt some dogma or doctrine to direct him through his life. There are a wide variety of moralities to choose from in the marketplace of ideas, but which morality a man buys into is immaterial so long as he chooses one because he is at a loss otherwise as to what he should do with himself and his life. How many men and women, having never realized that they had the option to choose their own destinies, wander through life in a dull haze thinking and acting in accordance with the laws that have been taught to them, merely because they no longer have any other idea of what to do? But the lover needs no prefabricated principles to direct her; her desires identify what is right and wrong for her, for her heart guides her through life. She sees beauty and meaning in the world, because her desires paint the world in these colors. She has no need for dogmas, for moral systems, for commandments and imperatives, for she knows what to do without instructions.

Thus she does indeed pose quite a threat to our society. What if everyone decided right and wrong for themselves, without any regard for conventional morality? What if everyone did whatever they wanted to, with the courage to face any consequences? What if everyone feared loveless, lifeless monotony more than they fear taking risks, more than they fear being hungry or cold or in danger? What if everyone set down their "responsibilities" and "common sense," and dared to pursue their wildest dreams, to set the stakes high and live each day as if it were the last? Think what a place the world would be! Certainly it would be different than it is now—and it is quite a truism that people from the "mainstream," the simultaneous keepers and victims of the status quo, fear change.

And so, despite the stereotyped images used in the media to sell toothpaste and honeymoon suites, genuine passionate love is discouraged in our culture. Being "carried away by your emotions" is frowned upon; instead we are raised to always be on our guard lest our hearts lead us astray. Rather than being encouraged to have the courage to face the consequences of risks taken in pursuit of our hearts' desires, we are counseled not to take risks at all, to be "responsible." And love itself is regulated. Men must not fall in love with other men, nor women with other women, nor individuals from different ethnic backgrounds with each other, or else the usual bigots who form the front-line offensive in the assault of modern Western culture upon the individual will step in. Men and women who have already entered into a legal/religious contract with each other are not to fall in love with anyone else, even if they no longer feel any passion for their marital partner. Love as most of us know it today is a carefully prescribed and preordained ritual, something that happens on Friday nights in expensive movie theaters and restaurants, something that fills the pockets of the shareholders in the entertainment industries without preventing workers from showing up to the office on time and ready to reroute phone calls all day long. This regulated, commercial "love" is nothing like the passionate, burning love that consumes the genuine lover. These restrictions, expectations, and regulations smother true love; for love is a wild flower that can never grow within the confines prepared for it but only appears where it is least expected.

We must fight against these cultural restraints that would cripple and smother our desires. For it is love that gives meaning to life, desire that makes it possible for us to make sense of our existence and find purpose in our lives. Without these, there is no way for us to determine how to live our lives, except to submit to some authority, to some god, master or doctrine that will tell us what to do and how to do it without ever giving us the satisfaction that self-determination does. So fall in love today, with men, with women, with music, with ambition, with yourself. . . with life!

One might say that it is ridiculous to implore others to fall in love—one either falls in love or one does not, it is not a choice that can be made consciously. Emotions do not follow the instructions of the rational mind. But the environment in which we must live out our lives has a great influence on our emotions, and we can make rational decisions that will affect this environment. It should be possible to work to change an environment that is hostile to love into an environment that will encourage it. Our task must be to engineer our world so that it is a world in which people can and do fall in love, and thus to reconstitute human beings so that we will be ready for the "revolution" spoken of in these pages—so that we will be able to find meaning and happiness in our lives.

What if everyone decided right and wrong for themselves, without any regard for conventional morality? What if everyone did whatever they wanted to, with the courage to face any consequences? What if everyone feared loveless, lifeless monotony more than they fear taking risks, more than they fear being hungry or cold or in danger? What if everyone set down their "responsibilities" and "common sense," and dared to pursue their wildest dreams, to set the stakes high and live each day as if it were the last? Think what a place the world could be...

If the world we are supposed to accept is false and nothing is true
then everything is possible on the way to discovering what we love
we will find what we hate is everything that blocks our path
what we desire will never be comfortable
for those who seek what is not on the market
a systematic questioning of the idea of happiness
we will cut the vocal chords of every empowered speaker
we will yank the social symbols through the looking glass
we will devalue societies currency to confront the familiar
society is a fraud so complete and venal that it demands to be destroyed
beyond the power of money to recall its existence
where there is fire we will carry gasoline
to interrupt the continuum of every day experience
and all the normal expectations that go with it
to live as if something actually depended on ones actions
to rapture the spell of idiology of the commodified consumer society
so that our repressed desires of a more authentic nature can come forward
to demonstrate the contrast between what life presently is and what it could be
to immerse ourselves in the oblivion of action
to know were making it happen
it will be an intensity never before known in this every day life
to exchange love and hate life and death terror and redemption repulsions and attractions
an affirmation of freedom so reckless and unqualified that it amounts to a total denial of any kind of restraint or limitation

Love is a verb here in my room.

Je me demande parfois si c'est vraiment vrai un mot volant de çà et là de soleil ni d'étoiles pour me donner
la faim en haut et en bas il va a étouffé le rouleau du tambour triste a battu fera vous miroite sur la mer ?
l'aube était verte pomme douce comme le lit dans la terre cher un je sais que vous allez dire que les ombres
de nuit tombaient rapidement quand mer-remonte ont transpercé nos solitudes une histoire très remarquable ceci
est augmenté et l'ambre était le coucher du soleil sur la rivière me donne la faim j'ai vu avec ouvre des yeux
tout dans et tout sans a formé de beauté seul

Honey, you arent a soulmate waiting to happen. You're love waiting to happen. So go, kiss your lover like a run-on sentence. and I promise not to interrupt becoming a dream whispering throughout your mind. Because love is nothing but a grass lined path. through a forest that leads to a city that leads to the ocean that leads past smiling criminals on death row and homosexuals being beaten with crowbars and a man wearing a sequined dress in front of crowd waving bottles of ale...and past the sad empty eyesockets of someones arms shot up by heroin. Because, that could be you darling, That could be you inside of that syringe...being a mans addiction, being the cause of a mans shaking arms reading a porno at the far end of the PCH.

Saboda hold my heart and I can repeat good morning to anyone as used up as me. You saw me without judgement, with something all-shaking as Love, which everyone has been acting like they are afraid of using. Yet its really quite easy to be wrapped up in white and its really quite easy to manufacture your own feathered wings and its really quite easy to strap anyone you want in an electric chair. But honey, I would never do that to you, so why are you doing that to everyone else? You are no better...you know it wont go nowhere. And I want you to know your lack of destination is like a broken steering wheel but there is noone else on the road.

Thank you for allowing me to call you honey. Noone wants to attract bees to themselves anymore. because it is so hard. It is so hard to admit your wrong and that you have forgotten your beekeeper suit and you are waving streaming your arms crying for help.

I think now this man they call God...is a tiny figure in a calender holding an umbrella on the pavement and shouting "October!"

very well, you liberals
when i go back to earth
and i have flung my soul into your eyes
eighty years have passed

i had a dream and i awoke with it
a smile has come to be
tripping up, falling down
backwards turn backwards

i love my hour of wind and light

il n'y avait jamais un bruit près du bois mais d'un
ils me demandent où j'ai été
une histoire très remarquable ceci est
un ciel qui n'a jamais connu le soleil, la lune ou les étoiles
soudainement, hors des manières foncées et feuillues
je sais pas où
apportez-moi vous la chanson douce

To act with awareness is freedom and to act without awareness is bondage.
The difference between freedom and bondage is awareness. Self-awareness is true awareness with reference to which the thought projected world is seen as a myth-as just a narration of an imaginative mind.

"Tell me," demanded the king, turning to his bewildered minister, waking up from an afternoon siesta. "Just a while ago I was a butterfly. Now, on waking up, I find myself to be a king. Which of these two experiences is the truth?"
The minister replied:
"Your Highness, doubtless, you are king - not a butterfly."
The king was not convinced. He said:
"O minister, how do you know? It might be that I am the king in the butterfly's dream!"

Viewed from the distance of the moon, the astonishing thing about the earth, catching the breath, is that it is alive. The photographs show the dry, pounded surface of the moon in the foreground, dry as an old bone. Aloft, floating free beneath the moist, gleaming, membrane of bright blue sky, is the rising earth, the only exuberant thing in this part of the cosmos. If you could look long enough, you would see the swirling of the great drifts of white cloud, covering and uncovering the half-hidden masses of land. If you had been looking for a very long, geologic time, you could have seen the continents themselves in motion, drifting apart on their crustal plates, held afloat by the fire beneath. It has the organized, self-contained look of a live creature, full of information, marvelously skilled in handling the sun.

I have been trying to think of the earth as a kind of organism,
but it is a no go...
it is most like a single cell.

Being a human, you’re required to be in unison: upright

But us - we're known for moving along

A gateway, an opening, a portal from one understanding to another. A clue to the meaning is found in the meditation
"I am, by thinly veiled design, the threshold to other dimensions. In my ending is my beginning. The initatory gateway awaits."
This is the seventh or last archetype in the cycle of development of primary beings. It represents the power found in completion. Seen as a closure, which is really an opening to another level of being.

and if she did remember...what would she feel?

maybe freedom really peaks
through the forests light
as
i have been granted
the universe - a piece of all there is

--


swimming cloudburst floating towards the coral
under a gift global enough to satisfy
Ear-th-be-sha-manik-C Cop-y-i-t
glowing attempting vision
of what the other side...like
was like - slashing beating expanding sounds
dropped aloud-its painful when I can not say my ships relate map a-round-a blue grey wicked----sadats skin sandya oh second sabbath sermon---- flotter le long de la rivière rêvant de se tenir comment hors des heures nouvelle peau----select proof of something never believed. 

I wait in blacklight for another waistline dedication
a backlit form to fornicate reflection behind
There is an obvious fear in my direction, this tactless stare
and my where-abouts still unknown to network news
Im still in that phosphorus disco ball
My love is pouring over fumbling coffee pots with yellowed fingertips
over real life conversations-like the deep end of the bathtub
where i can wait to hear some wisdom
Thats because-we're still waiting
We're still hanging on to that last word
lingering like the exclaimation of another lifeless being often does
But I drowned those differences in bathwater darling
to overcome compassion-with you.

And let me admit
I cant call it enough
Your form backlit
is a dream tithed
to strangers
in Mercutian form.

I want you to miss the lock
with your key repeatedly,
so i can open the door to a graph
of your entrance.
I want you to keep your old bicycle gears
in the attic, so that
when the lights go out,
they cast shadowpuppets like large cities,
for me to ride the streets.

I'd like you around, to round me.

coffee cream and sugar cubes
came dancing through my door
tempting me to maybe awake
and even ask for more

The story of civilization may sometimes be conveniently summarized as the story of man's unabating search for more and more sources of power. Almost every major movement in the history of human progress was brought about by the unlocking of some mighty source of power in nature.

The power of the wind, the power of water in motion, the power locked up in coal and in oil, steam power, magnetic power, electric power, and now, atomic power--man has tapped them all and harnessed them to the service of his needs and his desires. He has learned, in fact, to use even the mysterious power of thought, as shown by its increasing employment in war and peace.

There is one power, however, which people, in general, have not learned to use at all, or have refused, somehow, to use, in solving their individual as well as collective problems. This is the power of love. Either they have no faith in it, or they do not know how to use it effectively. One reason, probably, is that most people usually identify love with sex. As a consequence of this wrong attitude, they lose contact with its higher dimensions and superior possibilities, and thus find themselves unable to release its hidden and inexhaustible stores of energy. These people do not know that sex is but one of the many possible expressions of love, and that love has powers more abundant, more profound, and more significant than the power of procreation or the propagation of the species.

* * * * *

When Jesus told his disciples to love their enemies, he was not giving them, as some of us might suppose, a piece of stupid, even impossible, advice. On the contrary, he was telling them to use the greatest, most irresistible, power in the universe - the power of love. He did not advocate the use of any kind of physical or material force. He very clearly advocated the use of the spiritual force of love. He knew very well that most men would counter hate with hate. That is the ordinary way. That is the human way. In advising the employment of love against hate, however, he underscored a new technique. This new technique would seek to tap for man's use an inexhaustible source of power--the heart of God himself. This extraordinary way would release from the depths of human personality, where God is, the power of love for use in the solution of human problems. This is not the ordinary human way. This is the divine way. It is the way God would solve a problem. In effect, Jesus told his disciples to be divine, to cease to be merely human, to become the sons of God that they really are by behaving like sons of God, and to solve their problems in the only way God would solve his problems, and that is, by the exercise of the power of love.

Some of us might think that loving our enemies is just some kind of moral strategy. The truth, however, is that it is not just a bit of moralism. In fact, it is technology of the highest order. It is spiritual technology. It is human engineering at its best.

Many people think that love is just a sentiment good for poetry or for novels. How easy it is to forget that love is a law as inescapable in the world of human relations as gravitation is in the world of physical objects. But it is precisely just that - an inexorable law of thought and emotion the violation of which can bring about broken hearts and broken lives just as the violation of the law of gravitation can bring about broken arms and broken legs. Being a law, its operation involves energy transformation. The energy of love is the most unique kind of energy in the universe. It is creative, it is intelligent, and it is wise. Its transformations are the very expression of the Divine Mind itself. It fills the entire universe, but its mightiest seat of operation is in the heart of man. Every object in nature manifests, but man and man alone can manipulate it by the use of his mind and thus demonstrate the workings of God's mind. This energy of love, this power of love, which is the very energy of creation itself, is the technique which Jesus advised his disciples to use when he told them to "Love your enemies."

It is not quite correct to say that the technique of "Love your enemies" is a new one. It appears new only to those who have been accustomed to the more common technique of "Hate your enemies." In fact, it is a very ancient technique among those who have discovered that God is love, as the fourth gospel very clearly states.

All the great teachers of humanity from the earliest times taught it and demonstrated it in their lives. Buddha, Mahavira, Lao Tzu, Confucius, Zoroaster, Nanak, Mohammed, St. Paul--to mention only a few--all declared in varying ways that love is the law as well as the fulfilling of the law and that without it no peace, no happiness, no perfection is possible.

It is pretty obvious, however, that very few people, despite the weight of Christ's authority behind it, believe in the technique of "Love your enemies." Most of us think it too much to expect of mere man. But that is just the point. Christ did not for one moment assume that we are just mere men. He said very strongly that we have the power to become sons of God, if only we had faith, faith in him and in the power of love he demonstrated. A little thought is sufficient to convince us that it is the power of love which enables man to rise above his human limitations and perform superhuman feats, whether it be the love of truth which impels scientists to never-ceasing research, or the energy of passion which creates literature or music, or erects a Taj Majal.

Love has many powers. Let us begin with the more obvious ones.

* * * * *

Love has the power to create happiness. This fact is so common an experience to most people that it is not even necessary to mention it. And if the happiness it creates is sometimes short-lived, the reason probably is that the love that creates it is still imperfect.

It is trite to say that the scarcity of happiness among many people is due to the corresponding scarcity of love among them. It is also commonplace to say that the unhappy man is almost invariably also an unloving man.

Yes, these ideas are so elementary that we probably tire of hearing them. But the fact is that we seem to have such a facility to ignore them, or to forget them.

We forget that selfishness is almost always at the root of all unhappiness and that love, unselfish love, is the basis of all happiness. The man who says, "I am unhappy," actually proclaims to the world what he would be ashamed to admit openly, namely, that he is selfish. To be happy it is necessary to love, and to love truly it is necessary to be completely unselfish. Only the unselfish heart is capable of love and only the loving heart is capable of happiness.

There is a great law of happiness which, to my mind, should rank in importance with any other great discovery in science. It is the law which says: No man is capable of happiness who is incapable of loving one other person than himself.

I call this the Minimum Happiness Law.

* * * * *

One power of love which makes it most unique is its power to create goodness, or at least to awaken it. Love is the basic goodness, and if it be true that love alone can awaken love, then it follows that love alone can awaken goodness. It is a fact in psychology that a child raised in an atmosphere of hate generally becomes cruel. A cruel man is very often an unloved man who, almost surely, was once an unloved child.

It is true that goodness cannot be imposed from without, that it must be a growth from within. Nevertheless, this inward growth cannot even start without the stimulating touch of love. Theoretically, a child raised among wolves would probably grow to howl like a wolf. Love is the power which makes a child grow into a human being. It is the humanizing force in the human family.

Goodness may awaken love, but it may also awaken envy or resentment or even positive hate. We may love a man because he is good, but we may also learn to dislike him because he presents a contrast to our badness. Love, however, can never fail to awaken goodness, sooner or later. The reason is that love is more basic than goodness. We do not say that God is loving because he is good; rather we say God is good because he is full of love. Even a hardened criminal may become good, if he should fall in love; and the love that awakens within him can become his resurrection.

* * * * *

When Romeo saw Juliet on the balcony, he was so taken by her beauty he exclaimed, "That is the dawn and Juliet is the sun." How beautiful Juliet was to Romeo, even if she might have looked unlovely to his family. How handsome Romeo was to Juliet, even if he might have seemed unattractive to her family.

George Santayana once said that beauty is simply pleasure or happiness objectified. If this be true, then beauty is a creation of love, because happiness is created by love. But whether true or false, one thing love can do: it can irradiate the face of a lover with beauty and attractiveness.

Perhaps, it is just some kind of magic. But the fact is that the magic is there, the magic of love. And if this magic can be lasting, then beauty can be everlasting. Never, never will beauty pass away, as long as there is love.

Perhaps, when in love, one sees not the body but the soul. Perhaps love is clairvoyant and can penetrate the veil of flesh and see the radiant spirit within. Perhaps old age and ugliness are the illusion, and youth and beauty are the reality which, however, we cannot see, as long as we are not in love, or have ceased to love. Love, then, is the vision of the eternal, the experience of the never-dying, the never-ending.

Perhaps we were not born to grow old and die. Perhaps we were born to be always young and to live forever. But somehow we have forgotten the wisdom of love, we have lost the power of love. So now, for lack of love, we must grow old and we must die. But not quite, no, not quite, because, somehow, however so small and however so transient, we are able to experience the wonder of love. Somehow, sometimes we are able to lift the veil of time and behold ourselves as we really are in eternity, as gods because we are all children of God, when we fall in love. Blessed, blessed experience. Then we cease to be merely human. We become citizens of God's everlasting kingdom. We stand forth as divine beings. Then we wield the mighty power of love, and we become young again and beautiful again and everlasting again.

If we could only be in love every minute of our lives. If we could only be completely without hate, without anger, without rancor, without malice, without vengeance, without fear, without worry, without envy, without lie, without delusion, without cruelty, without greed, without selfishness, without any negative thought or emotion whatever; then, I am sure, we would have no sickness, no old age, no death.

This should not be looked at as a startling formula of youth and immortality. In fact, it is commonplace among the declarations of the spiritual teachers of mankind. Buddha promised Nirvana to anyone who could abolish the fires of hate, lust, and greed. Christ promised the kingdom of heaven to anyone who could be completely full of love for mankind. Modern science itself, particularly in the field of psycho-somatic studies, is not without indications that sickness, old age, and a shortened life are consequences of unwise thoughts and unwise emotions. Especially are the orientations of selfishness and hate emphasized as the principal causes of many psycho-somatic ailments.

No doubt, someday, science will be able to show that love is indeed the elixir of youth and immortality.

* * * * *

There is no way of explaining just now in terms of the concepts of official psychology the various powers of love which Eastern psychology recognizes.

Love, according to the sages of the East, has the power to confer wisdom. The Bible declares this when it says that love is the wisdom of God. This is called Prajna, or the power of direct cognition of anything.

Love confers the power to ascertain or discern the purposes of things, even the purpose of the whole universe itself. This is called Dhi.

Love has the power to transform anything into the nature of the divine, the power to make things holy. This is called Medha, or sacrifice.

Love has the power of unification, of merging the individual into the universal. This is called Shemushi.

Love has the power of inspired speech, the power to build words. This is called Dishana.

Love confers spiritual birth, the birth into the kingdom of heaven. This is called Manisha.

Love gives the power of faith. This is called Mati.

Love confers the power of eternal memory which is the basis of empiric consciousness. This is called Smriti.

These are the eight powers of love which the Eastern sages prefer to call Buddhi, or Love-Wisdom.

* * * * *

One more word of advice, and it is very important. Many and wondrous are the powers of love. It creates happiness. It awakens goodness. It generates wisdom. It conserves health. It prolongs youth. It creates beauty. It induces long life. It confers heaven. It does many things which are pleasant and desirable.

But be careful, be very, very careful. Love without selfishness, love without thought of self. Love not for the things love can give, even heaven itself. Love only for love's own sake.

Otherwise, even the things love can give may disappear like smoke in the air.