Bloggetry

OccupyAsheville beseiges Bank of America

2011-11-09T16:42:00.000-06:00

COPY+

First mobile blog

2010-10-02T06:47:00.002-05:00

Sure enjoying the cooler weather. - *smile*

Love's Reflection, Love's Light

2008-06-27T21:18:00.014-05:00

Love's Reflection

Looking into these eyes
gazing back so lovingly,
seeing all that I am,
all that I can be,

staring at the reflection
of love's light remembered
so effortless I recall,
the light that always was.

It's the love that I am,
the love that you are.
It's the love that is,
was, has and always will be.

--by Rinda
--7/7, 12/14/06; 4/27, 5/08/08
(entered by MayarOwl)

Love's Light

When love is set free,
the light of the soul is revealed
in all its wonder,
in all its glory.

When the light of the soul,
the light of love is released,
the heavens rejoice
for another has come home.

Soles kissing

2007-11-30T12:40:00.001-06:00

She whose feet have flown fleeing
need not leave soles of feet unkissed,
for she whose feet have flown fleeting
hath been seen sixty feet up in warm mist

playing and dancing in glee and glist
in soft woods above cabin where none see,
but one onlooking whose lips' passion kissed
soles of flying feet upon every part and pea.+

A twister of rope joins heavier one in soft thunder,
frothing on larger mountain top gently seething,
and sleep beneath eyelids from deep under
begins to see pen writing, softly breathing . . .

--11/22/07

Megalomania you say . . .

2007-11-09T12:36:00.000-06:00

  ['Eye in the Sky' courtesy: Tiig Ig (Keith Vanderwees)]

You have no idea, with what
few words I could disturb your
very 'foundation' of 'sanity,' leaving
you, ever unmoored from any reality.

But I stay my hand for sake of
His vengeance, not my own;
for your soul was not mine made
and cannot be unmade, not

by this hand that holds gently
most precious love, faith and
that which's only for the abased,
the greatest exaltation of all . . .

. . . on His return for those who've
loved hardest, with faith among many
wolves, vipers and those you've duped.
"Pah!" you say, but I stand at your peril . . .

. . . in intimacy of His vengeance,
in sweet company of His love and
patience for your certain end, yet
only a few years away now . . .

. . . by special order, of hate your own.

                                          *selah*

      --11/4/07

Like the Blob . . .

2007-10-29T14:47:00.000-06:00

. . . it looks to cover the planet,
penning every heart to read
or lose to rain+, uncaring.
This place of bloggetry,

next stage of poetry which
dried up in dust of culture,
become irrelevant in debauchery,
who call unto dance+,+ & destruction . . .+

"White bird in a golden cage" . . .+
"Hurry high, butterfly" . . .+, +

--10/5/07

All our lives and . . .

2007-10-23T21:38:00.000-05:00

. . . no caring leaders; heaven shine your light down.
I'm not the only one, I hope, but
someone's next and won't know it.
Can't help them against advancing avalanche
of utter hate and murderous hearts . . .

I want to help, but you have to really hurt for it,
heart panting hard in deep desire for what's real,
of things not physical, emotional, even mental.
So then what's really real . . . ?

. . . only that which deepest desire for truth
can find, because nothing less is wanted
of what the world has nothing of . . .
in no care at all of truth it hates . . .

in deepest, hateful passion against few . . .
who have deepest hearts of caring and
compassion none can follow without hurt
of love and desire for nothing less than . . .

. . . truth, no matter what, and . . .
. . . no back doors here . . .+

--10/23/07

Depression calls . . . ,

2007-10-11T15:17:00.000-05:00

tears well up. I try not to answer . . . ,
knowing I'll spiral down again . . .
Here it comes..., can't help it . . .
Gotta' move..., gotta' get up . . . !

But it won't let go. Panting against tears . . . ,
hoping it won't go any lower; and then . . .
I remember helping my friend when she
couldn't help herself at the very bottom.

Seems like giving in is easier.
I know better..., but sigh in relief,
tears still rolling down, then
I think of you reading this . . .

Can you possibly see it, the panting . . . ,
the catching of breath against it?
If you understand, I do..., and . . .
if not, I can't help you . . . ,

but there is One Who can, Who
brought me up from even further down,
before, than I can tell you..., without . . .
Be glad you don't know,

because I prayed for you while
there, not knowing I'd rise . . .
to help anyone who could be helped,
against the scourge . . .

depression hauling you down . . .
for reasons I can't tell you . . .

--10/10-11/07

Closing rank

2007-10-06T13:12:00.001-05:00

Perhaps you know already of the sorrow,
unshared so long, sent on webbed wings
as bread upon waters, with little return.
I didn't want to hurt, but to break hearts,

that joy may be seen beyond the veil
few this life will look unto.
Hoping you'll see the desolation & turn
away toward the broken heart you need to

break yours in the best way, making sure
your joy'll never be lost in this life's dead end.
Close ranks, heart to heart, joy sharing joy,
sorrow sharing sorrow, tears gathered of Heaven.

Found greatest joy, and deepest sorrows,
learned to walk razor's edge between, overcoming
with faith sure enough to be carried unto
third Heaven, next on to new Universe . . .

. . . by arms of Whom sorrows knew best.

--10/5/07

Without warning . . .

2007-10-06T12:13:00.000-05:00

. . . I shared bi-polar anguish seven years.
Didn't know Jimi Hendrix, only the music.+
First wife couldn't be understood;
decades later second was best friend,

then understood perfectly, in deepest anguish,
worse than being mangled in a wreck.
Now I know I was drawn to them, because
I'd seen deepest sorrow, and highest joy, within.

Concerned to draw another, I stay myself;
but hold not back compassion, for theirs
is greater than yours, though you think not;
their love, too, deeper than you may want to know.

By sorcerous potions, drawn away suddenly, under
spell of lithium+, paxil/prozac and a dozen other "sundries."
We best friends, then lost of each other,
love of closest friend ever, gone . . .

. . . in distant haze, doctors and family uncaring . . .
and faith lost of compassion between dearest friends.

--10/5/07

I've . . .

2007-10-05T10:58:00.000-05:00

. . . been down that garden path (now enfolded)
that you still enthrall, in withheld wonder.
-------------------------------------------------------
. . . understood those depths and greater
that would drown one in anguish, or deepest epiphany;

and you hold back, fearing what should be loved.
No, not that, this, that you know, already clear.
Unfamiliar, you shy, when it could be yours,
exulting, without anguish, in great revelation.

Piano of Evanescence+ plays, in great persuasion,
and you look out of the glass onion, not into,
to greater, without, from even greater within
that you don't want to lose, of deepest meaning . . .

. . . sought for longer than you're able to remember,
while odd-numbered, palmated leaves entrance . . .

. . . you in their garden, a zombie.

--10/4/07

In love perfect . . .

2007-10-05T10:50:00.000-05:00

. . . I mourn for what had been,
on a far saner planet than here.
No fences and many, many who cared deeply.
Friendships unenvied by such as this sick society.

I mourn for what I knew and can't find here,
when there, was no thought of even looking,
when it was ever at hand, heart to heart,
on that planet of platinum, golden rule of love.

I mourn with whom sing of my heart here, unknowing,
crashing me down in deepest of sorrow,
but here for final reasons, for few who have sought
and found what, easy there, was only found in suffering

here, where I had to come, to help in hope
that faith wouldn't die for the most precious,
whose hearts, in cruel crucible, hardships many,
would soar higher than ever, in answer . . .

. . . with overcoming faith in love perfected.

--10/4/07

On the run up . . .

2007-09-15T12:12:00.000-05:00

to rapture, things're too quiet,
more clamor+ than ever,
the world much ado about nothing.
Heaven's clarion call unheeded,

they fall, unburied, a thousand years+
passing in oblivion, awaiting destruction,
when the Universe's most beautiful one+
leads them to take the untakable city.+

Sodom and Gomorrha remembered then,
final rain of brimstone, laying waste
to those who will never see new life+
on new Earth with new heavens above.+,+

No telling them, they won't believe,+,+
preferring a fanciverse and no Creator,+
when all nature knows Him well,+
which they destroyed as a canker worm+

. . . when they pretended to care,+
with intentionally late Kyoto Protocol+ to CYA.

--9/15/07

Faces . . .

2007-09-14T16:05:00.000-05:00

"They say," the end is near.
Even the Moody Blues sung,
"One more time to live and
           I have made it mine."
When they hadn't made anything at all . . .

except "music" almost no one really heard
that transcended all before or since
in first six albums, almost touching heaven,
. . . while I climbed Jacob's Ladder, deep within.

Didn't want to be an Andy Warhol guru+,
just heard. Still found only few who listen,
somehow knowing it's true, and not false,
while I wait and hope to see faces lit of heaven . . .

         . . . not far off now . . .

   --9/14/07

Snoopy to the rescue

2007-09-08T12:34:00.000-05:00

I want her close enough to kiss,
close enough to hold, close enough to caress,
close enough to softly touch her cheek,
close enough for tears to fall on her shoulder,

near enough to kiss me & lay her head on my shoulder,
near enough to hold me, near to caress me,
near to softly touch my cheek and
near enough for her tears to fall on my shoulder,

closer than across the Caribbean pond
she said would be a short swim.
Told her I'd be waiting with beach towel
and, though still in hope for my dearest friend,

. . . I walk away now from breakers on quartz,
dragging her towel behind me like sad Linus.
Charlie Brown shouts from the shore, "Good grief!,"
and Snoopy trots along to the rescue to pick up the other end.

Thanks guys. - *smile*

--9/8/07

The inside corner . . .

2007-09-08T12:31:00.000-05:00

What not to do can't not be done.
As hard as I've tried,
my agreement stands in my denial,
while white-capped breakers turn languid, clear & slide away.

Languishing through the decades,
aloneness set harder than stone,
I reach out, still believing
she's out there somewhere.

Gave up on "American Woman,"+
but can't get past its borders.
Though millions come this way
and prosper more than many here.

Sorry, I strayed from the point.
I'm sure you see why now.
Even a flint napper+ would walk away
while I keep eyes on horizon below the moon,

. . . with pain of languish like pain inured.

No-petaled flower

2007-09-07T18:13:00.000-05:00

She loves me, she loves me not,
she loves me not, she loves me,
she loves me, she loves me not,
she loves me not, she loves me.

There, there, now, sigh, she loves me.
Sent me a good night hug, she did, she did.
Broke my heart she did, in the best way.
Sent my new friend tears with gentle hug, I did.

Soft touch of virtual cheeks then
with a light kiss, retiring with a smile.
Up early next morning thinking of her,
writing a few more lines, softly sighing.

. . . then no-petaled flower slowly fell
to softest carpet of forest floor.
Now set again to search for lost petals
stopping only to quietly weep against a tree

somewhere near lost glen found so long ago . . .

--9/7/07

Stranger in a Strange Land*

2007-08-31T13:10:00.000-05:00

Be not disquieted, dearest one,
for we'll share beyond time/space
spent growing in love unto
hearts having waited long, hoping

with joyous faith, knowing
He had another waiting, growing
in patience, adding virtue
in purest hearts of love, . . .

kneeling before Him by full harvest moon
glowing on waves and quartz,
Men-o-War watching while we coalesce
unto oneness hitherto unknown,

while waves softly beach, so gently
as to further our quiet mingle,
spirit to spirit, soul to soul, face to face
in greatest relief of love ever known.

After a time, I gather the beach towel that waited
and wrap it around you again, walking
through sand back into strangeness . . .
carrying with us love given, so precious.

--8/30-31/07

*Stranger in a Strange Land, by Robert A. Heinlein+

Rock Hudson

2007-08-16T09:36:00.000-05:00

"Feel the rain on your skin . . .
Release your inhibitions"+:
Rebellion's clarion call.

I'm the martian in the Chronicles+,
only I won't fall into [your] heap at the end.
I never was who or what you thought;

and 'if' I wasn't then you've never been.
I tried, many times, to reach you wouldn't have it.
I can only walk away, shaking my head, so sad.

Mixing feel-good and "freedom," denying
truth, not seeking heaven,
utterly self-indulgent, you feel the rain,

. . . the final rain+, & souls falling unto destruction.

--8/13/07

Definitions

2007-08-03T19:40:00.000-05:00

         Awareness: That which is part of one's physical and mind/soul existence through the senses.
         Believe in: To lean on, trust in and rely on with your whole being and personality (reserved for our Creator).
         Consciousness: That which emanates from one's spirit self, being and knowing.
         Creator: There is and can only be One (Who is without beginning, end or gender), Who created all that exists, including angel and man a little lower, out of that which was not as yet even nothing, simply by speaking. - Our Creator does not exist; He created existence itself. - Of course, He manifest Himself in creation later to help us.
         Dimension: That which is perfectly perpendicular to every other one below, even if perpendicularity must take on entirely new meaning with each successive one being less and less like each previous one; also known as a sub-level; there are only seven per level.
         Etheric: The encompassing and fully-integrated non-energy blanket which also completely suffuses the physical level; the "location" of prana (qi or chi); the transitional interstice between the physical level and the mind/soul level (of consciousness).
         Heaven: The first one is the atmosphere (also known as the firmament+); second one is the Universe (solar system/stars/galaxies); third is Heaven+ itself.
         Imagination: That which can be useful, if true perception comes first, otherwise to be kept inactive and not to be trusted when in search for truth.
         Layer: Each dimension/sub-level has seven, like strata, each successive one much unlike previous ones, each higher/deeper one with new aspects not previously found.
         Level: That which consists of seven dimensions or sub-levels; there are only three under third Heaven.+
         Meditation: The process of learning how to control the mind/soul (i.e., to rein it in) and its emotion/thought (taking its territory), to focus it, to concentrate and then finally learning how also to make it just shut up entirely and listen intently within (for that which this world knows nothing of), all in the essential context of interaction with the breath (not control of, a critical difference), after completely relaxing with a comfortable posture (back straight, head aligned), though remaining perfectly alert, always remembering to discriminate between imagination & true perception (keeping imagination silent and perceptions shelved for later), continuing ever deeper & deeper within, toward being and knowing beyond existence entirely.
         New Age: A false repeat of a previous time period which is full of fantasy and fallacy, which is just how its participants like it. - *selah* - [Strong suggestion: "Don't dare bore them or even think to suggest that what they believe is far worse than simple nonsense."]
         Onion: One way to understand how layers/dimensions/levels are arranged, with each successive layer/dimension/level completely encompassing every one below.
         Perception: (The process of picking up or) that which is picked up by senses, whether physical, emotional or mental, also not to be completely trusted without serious introspection and examination with keen circumspection.
         Physical (body): The seat of lust (of the seven senses) and self-importance which usually blinds most to deeper levels; the first level (of consciousness) where matter and energy interact (in context within seven dimensions).
         Prana: The etheric counterpart of oxygen with many extremely different and higher (esoteric) properties; that which can be mentally directed for "good" or evil (both of which is sorcerous) from the mind/soul level (of consciousness).
         Religion: Man, in abject rebellion against our Creator, doing his own thing.
         Soul: Mind, to include emotion and thought (in that order) which is completely and finely integrated with the physical brain (and its multiple, overlapping, dedicated holosensic lobes); seat of the will/ego/desire; the second level (of consciousness).
         Truth: That which most would be horrified to hear (considering what they have believed all their life told them by others, not having searched it out for themselves), if they were even to believe it at all, some even dying with myocardial infarction because of it.

More definitions will be added as time allows. - Do check back.

Such love, and blind anger

2007-07-28T10:14:00.000-05:00

She still appears in my dreams, tall,
lovely long neck, slim, lithe beauty,
same one who decided to run
her car over me, missing, so angry

at our Creator Who'd provided all things.
One (Two-and-a-half) and another waiting
in the womb, still unseen, also angry.
Finally came to get her things, while

Two-and-a-half, as I had taught him, cupped
handful of small rocks/sand, letting sand slip
through fingers with rocks to toss left, and right.
Doing the same, he came to me, taking his time,

but he dropped the rocks, reached up
and hugged me tight, with calm, sweet spirit.
Twice more the same, sedately, in no hurry,
saying he loved me and good bye, without words.

She had offered him to me before, without siblings;
I wanted them together & she took them away, bitter.
I needed her heart to break, for the wrongness.
24 now, 2-1/2 can't remember, but made sure I would.

surfaced by Brandy's sweet countenance @ WaffleHouse
--7/28/07

Kryptonite

2007-07-28T10:03:00.000-05:00

I've tried to tell my story, with few
ears to listen, many only to hear.
What I've found I can't give away.
Still, I hope to share and bless.

Things are panoramic beyond gender,
able to understand much, much more.
While looking to break hearts in the best way,
& hoping to see others eyes' light of epiphany,

I stand within on solid foundation of truth,
compassion built lovingly upon touch,
close in caring and help to those
who need it most, who've found faith.

--7/7/07

Not knowing . . .

2007-07-17T15:34:00.000-05:00

. . . where to go, what or how to do or even whether,
what must needs be, one or another way.
I flicker at the edge of the path,
and sit down to consider, still at a loss,

. . . not knowing.

I can't walk away or do nothing,
looking into sweetest eyes and sweeter lips
of one so loved, it hurts to see such
anguished need hanging on thread of longing . . .

. . . while dilemma only deepens and understanding waits.

--7/15/07

Reaching forever . . .

2007-07-13T11:43:00.000-05:00

I am melancholy man, your closest friend,
your greatest hope, your most precious love,
not the one you hate, not one who hurt
you, not the one who didn't care.

"See me, feel me, touch me, heal me . . ."+
Look at me, understand me, reach me, touch me.
Don't let me languish, finding only emptiness.
Only love & faith hold me together, without you.

Two walked away, not caring to understand.
Now you approach, peering intently, wanting.
Reach me, touch me, hold me, caress me.
Most dear one, I've loved you forever.

--7/12-13/07

Freedom or oblivion . . .

2007-07-06T10:49:00.000-05:00

Found the station+, 1969; no one there knew.
Like Vin Diesel, passing through.
Had sighted high glens on the Mountains
of the sun; higher still, heaven glinting off.

Group-think-speak found at the station+,
while one white bird+ briefly lit, then
winged off beyond the Mountains, leaving
gilded men behind at the station+ in dark of fear.

Guild of group-think couldn't lock golden cage+,
while far off, wings shed for spirit freedom.
The station+ falls to dust of destruction,
with gilden men of group-spink found of oblivion.

--7/6/07

Conversation w/Spiral Jetty

2007-07-01T16:13:00.000-05:00

   spiral jetty: yo surfers.
   spiral jetty: hey mayarowl. wanna talk about thoughts and fractals?
   MayarOwl: SpiralJetty -- Hellow there! - *smile* - Sure!
   MayarOwl: SpiralJetty -- Where would you like to start, the holographic mind?
   spiral jetty: I was *thinking* that our sensation of time is created by our thoughts... what do you say to that?
   spiral jetty: yes, the holographic mind. shoot.
   MayarOwl: SpiralJetty -- Okay, sure. - *smile* - Well, we cannot change time itself, but yes, we can change our perception of it, just not within its context. - That is where meditation comes in, eh? - *smile* -> more
   spiral jetty: MayarOwl. what if I told you I can slow down and speed up time within it's context?
   MayarOwl: SpiralJetty -- With meditation (as defined at: http://poetic-rk.blogspot.com/2007/05/our-creator-dimensions-seeking.html ) there are many things you can learn, but don't use it to play or you can get into trouble and find yourself in the hands of nefarious ones at higher/deeper levels. - MayarOwl had a twelve-hour-long meditation when he was twenty for which he prepared for six months before. - It lasted longer than the length of a lifetime, but you have to know where you're going. - *selah*
   MayarOwl: SpiralJetty -- No, only our Creator can do that, but He won't because it is not in His plan. - History is another matter. - *smile*
   spiral jetty: so where did you go? to the stars?
   MayarOwl: SpiralJetty -- No, MayarOwl went within. - *smile* - You see, that is a place no one (it seems) knows "where" to find. - *shrug* - You find it through meditation (again as defined above).
   MayarOwl: SpiralJetty -- Within is neither a "place" with x-y-z coordinates nor can it be found in the context of time (duration). - *selah*
   MayarOwl: SpiralJetty -- It involves much more than what is in the definition above, but you have to make a commitment to it or it will never be found. - That is because unless one makes it a part of their life's goal, it just won't "happen" by itself.
   spiral jetty: of course it won't.
   MayarOwl: SpiralJetty -- Right. - MayarOwl began serious meditation in 1964 because he knew there was far more to life than what could be found with either five or even six senses. - So he quieted himself completely, and listened intently within, ignoring all else.
   spiral jetty: And of course direction and purpose came to you from yourself.
   MayarOwl: SpiralJetty -- Yes, in what you decide is important and what is not, exactly. - The thing is to decide that what is important is truth, and nothing less, or there will be much that will only confuse if you depend on imagination bonded with perception. - Imagination must remain idle. - SpiralJetty, what is the sound of one hand clapping?
   spiral jetty: I don't know. never seriously worked on koans...
   MayarOwl: SpiralJetty -- The whole, original, point of the question was to pose an imponderable, unsolvable question, meaning that its purpose was to teach the mind that by thinking one cannot come to knowing. - *smile* - And neither is thought knowledge, eh?
   spiral jetty: oh. is that all? I do that a lot anyway. Silence.
   spiral jetty: so do you know anything about the coming changes to the earth and the sun?
   MayarOwl: SpiralJetty -- Yes, understood. - It is hard to get the mind to understand that its own thinking can't take it anywhere significant within at all. - MayarOwl understood that from the start, but had to learn it a few times anyway, the mind being so stubborn to think it can know. - It only puzzles the mind because it cannot fathom it in thought. - That is the first lesson, that it cannot be successfully pondered. - *selah*
   spiral jetty: or about stargates? ... yep. So have you vanquished your mind completely?
   MayarOwl: SpiralJetty -- It doesn't matter. - The only thing that matters is what is within. - What is without will "take care of itself," so to speak. - Yes, there are many things MayarOwl has much interest in, crop circles, the Mayan Tzolkin calendar, etc., but he doesn't allow it to blur his inner focus.
   MayarOwl: SpiralJetty -- No, it has been taught to be the proper, obedient vessel of MayarOwl's spirit. - Outside of that job, the mind is useless in the most important respect.
   spiral jetty: ok. I won't let it blur mine either. So what does your inner focus guide you to think or talk about right now?
   spiral jetty: do you read any castaneda?
   MayarOwl: SpiralJetty -- MayarOwl read the first five books by Castaneda, but after the first chapter of book six he was finished; you see, there is no one "place (or time) of power" as don Juan continued to speak of with Carlos. - The thing most important, as always, is truth, and not just truth as it relates to the world, more rather what truth is at depth. - *selah*
   MayarOwl: SpiralJetty -- And to reach depth, within, one must meditate (again, as defined in the above link).
   spiral jetty: tell me more, what didn't you like about the idea of a place of power?
   MayarOwl: SpiralJetty -- It wasn't a matter of "like," but rather that there was no such thing, eh? - *smile*
   selki: hello (((MayorOwl))) (((spiral jetty)))
   MayarOwl: SpiralJetty -- MayarOwl wasn't looking for power, just insight into what Carlos was writing about in order to understand the nefariousness of don Juan and others like him in this world, though they may be few. - MayarOwl found far, far deeper places, without confusion at all. - *smile*
   MayarOwl: Selki -- Hellow! - *smile* - Great to see you, dear Selki. - Hope you are doing well. - *hugs*
   spiral jetty: you think don juan is nefarious?
so you feel you have found a deeper truth than the castaneda books in this holographic description?
   selki: MayorOwl, I'm good, visiting my brother. This is the first chance I've had to check in, we were busy with my nephew's wedding.
   MayarOwl: SpiralJetty -- Certainly. - *smile* - His nefariousness was cleverly hidden, because Carlos couldn't see beyond the etheric, which is where don Juan "played" with him. -> more
   MayarOwl: Selki -- Ah, glad to hear that. - *smile* - Sounds like you are having an interesting time with it all.
   MayarOwl: SpiralJetty -- There is so, so much more that makes all that pale into deep colors of black in comparison, dear SpiralJetty. - You know, like a sunspot; if you took a sunspot aside from the rest of the surface of the sun, it would look bright, just not nearly as bright as the surrounding sun's surface. - By itself, any one "belief system" may seem bright, but when put beside the brightness of truth it looks very dark. - *selah*
   MayarOwl: <--- Surf's up! - *smile*
   spiral jetty: that's cool. I like that. and so we get to that huge truth just by meditating, huh? Would you agree with a definition of meditation given to me by a friend that "meditation is listening"?
   MayarOwl: SpiralJetty -- In great part, yes, meditation is listening, but listening deeply within, agreed. - *smile* - Listening to the world, or even to what may/may not be in the etheric is completely distracting from what should be paid far more attention to deep within. - *selah*
   spiral jetty: well here's a quicky for ya. I don't know in which of his books carlos talks about the location of the assemblage point called the place of no pity. I think I've found it by myself. (and how does the assemblage point and the energy body figure into your view of reality?
   spiral jetty: which is our true mind, isn't it? our true selves.
   MayarOwl: SpiralJetty -- What is real is real, but to put words on something that easily explains itself without words only masks it. - You see, again, there goes the mind again, trying to bottle something with words which cannot be done. - You see, most who "teach" meditation... --> more
   MayarOwl: SpiralJetty -- Most who "teach" meditation will train you how to control the breath, and without ever mentioning that it is vital to learn the electro-chemical language of the breath first. - Without knowing that "language," one will never really control the breath; and the breath knows it, too, and one can never rise to what meditation should be about. - *selah*
   spiral jetty: ok. so here's a good question; I'm ready to unbottle my world. What does it take to prepare an individual to make that connection to within a permanent and conscious feature of daily life? What did you do for six months to prepare?
   MayarOwl: SpiralJetty -- The breath will continue its own control and never hand it over to you without you knowing its language, because that's actually dangerous. - MayarOwl found that out by experience. - SpiralJetty, we live in a physical body (matter/energy), we have a mind/soul (including emotion and thought), but we are our spirit self. - However, most sleep, and know nothing of their spirit, never having looked its direction, deep within. - *selah*
   spiral jetty: so "going deep within" is a metaphor for moving your assemblage point. What are you doing while your assemblage point is displaced? Just observing, eh?
   MayarOwl: SpiralJetty -- MayarOwl prepared himself with normal meditation, getting the mind to a point of idle so his spirit could reach far on. - Also, MayarOwl prepared his physical body with fasting and daily routines that would help to be able to be idle for twelve hours without any needs to be tended to. - MayarOwl did not want to return, but knew he would have to. - *sigh*
   MayarOwl: SpiralJetty -- No, going within has nothing to do with "moving [any] assemblage point." - Sorry, SpiralJetty, but what MayarOwl teaches he could never put into any box made of words very successfully. - The last twenty years have been spent learning how to explain what he learned within. - There is more to it than simple observation.
   MayarOwl: SpiralJetty -- It is something one simply has to do. - Listening to teaching of meditation is not meditation, eh? - *smile* - You see, the mind is the last thing you want controling your meditation. - *smile*
   spiral jetty: well let's talk more about the holographic universe, yeah? How does the world of energy fit into that view? Or can't that be talked about either?
   MayarOwl: SpiralJetty -- Matter and energy are counterparts of each other, as physics teaches. - Do you know the story of the first holographic image that was made?
   spiral jetty: no, tell me.
   MayarOwl: SpiralJetty -- Sorry, got bumped out of chat somehow, *Whew!* --> more
   spiral jetty: what do you think then about the lines of intent that are perceivable according to castaneda, and the assemblage point and the energy body around the physical body? Are they all holograms?
   MayarOwl: SpiralJetty -- Well, to make it short, when they finished making it, somehow it got broken (it was a thick plate of glass with film emulsion embedded in it under great pressure, then exposed from every direction and developed). - The piece that was broken off had the entire image in it, too, but was smaller of course. - Then they broke it into smaller and smaller pieces. - Each smaller and smaller piece still had the entire image in it. - *smile*
   ginja: hello*S
   MayarOwl: SpiralJetty -- What you are talking about cannot be understood in the "simple" context of holographic understanding in the physical context, or even in the etheric context. - One must be at the next level deeper to see it as it should be, which don Juan never talked about because he never reached that deep. - *selah*
   spiral jetty: oh yeah, I've heard about that. kinda reminds me of the Buddha's 'world in a mustard seed'
   MayarOwl: Ginga -- Hellow.
   spiral jetty: what is the etheric to you? don't know what you mean..
   ginja: listening ~~~
   spiral jetty: hi ginja
   ginja: :)
   MayarOwl: SpiralJetty -- Let's start with prana (some call it qi, or chi, and there is only one kind, not many as some speak of). - Prana is the etheric counterpart of oxygen, but with extremely different properties. - Back in late 1996/early 1997 MayarOwl held meditation classes in his own chat room at SWC; wish you were there. - *smile*
   MayarOwl: <--- Surf's up! - *smile*
   ginja: yup ~~~
   MayarOwl: SpiralJetty -- The etheric can only be understood through learning about it through serious meditation that one must make a lifetime commitment to. - MayarOwl just talking about it will not really give you much insight into it unless you have questions about it after having experienced it from meditative states, within. - *selah*
   MayarOwl: Ginga -- *chuckling*
   spiral jetty: so the etheric is the other half of the world, the first being the side of matter?
   MayarOwl: SpiralJetty -- No, the etheric is between the world of matter/energy and mind/soul. - *smile* - And the only way to "get there" is through meditation.
   spiral jetty: I'm not looking to you for insight into my reality. Chatting is generally not an enlightening experience anyway... I was just trying to figure out what you mean by it...
   ginja: yet *selah, please continue with your converse of it
   MayarOwl: SpiralJetty -- It is partly related to the world and partly related to mind/soul, but in special ways not to be used for any purpose it was not intended. - The lesson MayarOwl learned about that saved him from utter destruction. - *selah*
   MayarOwl: SpiralJetty -- Okay, understood, no problem. - *smile* - MayarOwl has enjoyed discussing all this with you, and wouldn't want to discourage you. - MayarOwl only means to put perspective on it, as in asking the question, "What is the sound of one hand clapping?" (see above)
   MayarOwl: Ginga -- Nice to meet you, Ginga. - *smile* - Tell us about yourself. - *bowing*
   ginja: at this moment am interested in you continuing so I may be the listener
   MayarOwl: Ginga = Ginja --- *Ooops!*
   ginja: nice meeting you *MayaraOwl
   spiral jetty: So would you say that perceiving energy is not the most fundamental way to experience the world? That perceiving this 'etheric' is?
   MayarOwl: Ginja -- Ah, okay, understood. - *smile* - Do you have any questions?
   ginja: oooops, deeeeeeee loops
   ginja: just came in, not yet, ty
   spiral jetty: you like to play the role of the teacher, don'tcha?
   MayarOwl: SpiralJetty -- The physical body perceives the world. - The etheric envelope perceives the etheric with the help of the mind/soul. - So, no, the way you asked the question missed something there, sorry. - *smile* - Do you see what MayarOwl means?
   spiral jetty: hmmm, ok.
   MayarOwl: SpiralJetty -- MayarOwl is not playing any role, but he does have great interest in helping others understand what meditation is about.
   spiral jetty: why do you have such an interest?
   MayarOwl: Ginja -- Okay. - *smile* - Nice to have you here.
   MayarOwl: SpiralJetty -- Because of all the wonderful things MayarOwl has learned from deep within. - He cannot keep it to himself, and would never want to.
   MayarOwl: SpiralJetty -- After this discussion with you today, you will have more insight into some of the things MayarOwl has written on his blog site. - So, it has been very productive chatting with you today. - *smile* - MayarOwl is glad to have had this opportunity with you, and perhaps others coming in for review will also benefit.
   spiral jetty: ok, see ya guys;)
   MayarOwl: SpiralJetty -- Okay, hope to see you again sometime. - Sleep well, but dream better. - *TNT*
   MayarOwl: (...moves back out into the deep near horizon...)
   tortuga: !~NAMASTE!~...it is a rare occasion that I climb the Mountain...but had to come and hoot at the Owl...*VBG*
   MayarOwl: Tortuga -- Ah, hellow, Tortuga! - *smiling* - Great to see you!
   Dragonfire12: *Tosses the turtle a rope ladder*
   tortuga: ...too late...I guess I will have to be content with Owl's blog...
   outrider: howdy howdy,, sowwy tuga, the address musta got mixed up,, the rain came here instead of ur place
   tortuga: ...LOL...BLINK AGAIN for a new reality~!~...Howdee Y'All~!~
   MayarOwl: Tortuga -- Ah yes, more will be added each week, so keep checking in. - *smile* - MayarOwl has to go now, sorry to say, but will be back on first opportunity.
   MayarOwl: <--- Surf's up! -- *TNT*
   tortuga: ...*gratefully grabs the rope*...quit gloating, outrider~!~
   MayarOwl: (...moves beyond horizon now, into the deeper...)
   tortuga: ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~! Waves at the departing Owl...not intending the pun...LOL...

Tears, hope, faith & answers

2007-06-26T15:47:00.000-05:00

Secrets, like questions, have them;
now that you know, what will you do?

Buried in the right questions; so too,
secrets, the right ones, also.

This is your key, but you need the right
one to make it through death and entrance

to eternal life through faith, not pointless survival.
Deeper ones live, if your hope knows . . .

--"IATW,TT&TL" . . .

Longing

2007-06-26T15:22:00.000-05:00

My heart weeps, empty
nest syndrome sets in.
The most precious person
in my life has taken flight.
The lonelinesss and isolation
create a sense of melancholy.
Desperate to rationalize
his absence has to be . . .

--written by special guest blogger, ML on 6/22/07
(entered by MayarOwl 6/26/07)

Mashed potatoes

2007-06-16T11:02:00.000-05:00

Waves of confusion flutter the gates
of the mind, creating a fortress of solitude
that cannot be penetrated,

Seeking answers among rushing thoughts
that wisp through but never really stop.
Afterward, no answers that make sense,
like a carousel that never stops,

like a turbulent storm that creates havoc,
doing the best you can to grasp
a single thought that makes sense,

then a serene calm . . .

--written by special guest blogger, ML on 6/12/07
(entered by MayarOwl 6/16/07)

Tremors

2007-06-16T10:56:00.000-05:00

Dark beams come flooding the beaches
of the infantile mind, not comprehending
the source from whence it came,
flying high to the pinnacle of consciousness,

doomed to repeat the ongoing ebony blanket,
crazed and searching the plains for one
bit of truth, not finding any hope,

only now . . .

--written by special guest blogger, ML on 6/12/07
(entered by MayarOwl 6/16/07)

All is vanity . . .

2007-06-09T12:21:00.000-05:00

Soft tendrils of silky narcissism+ . . .
wrap you around, like a cocoon.+

Never reaching chrysalis,+ you're stuck,
wondering why nothing fundamental changes.
The world for you, is a comfort . . .

Eternity urges from within,+ unable to penetrate
thin but powerful veil, covering eyes of unreason
that won't see, even though you know it's true.

You shuttle again to the mirror,
avoiding pupils of beautifully irised+ eyes . . .

--6/9/07

Love . . . or infatuation

2007-06-08T15:59:00.000-05:00

Sometimes it is hard to understand how the human mind and heart works. Emotions have been known to play games on people.

     You may think you love someone, but as time goes on, you may realize what you thought was love, was in reality, infatuation.

     Everyone has been infatuated at one time or another in their lifetime. We have to be careful how we interpret our feelings in the beginning, because if we don't put our feelings in the proper perspective, we may lose sight of our true feelings.

     Often we've heard, 'take it one day at at time,' but it should be taken one moment and one feeling at a time. Then think about it, make sure before you move on, because sometimes we move too fast and find out we 'thought' we have loved, and wind up hurting the other person, if they truly loved us.

     Love is a very 'special' emotion. True love is an emotion that doesn't change form. Often we've heard that there is a fine line between love and hate, not true!

     That concept is a result of anger that stems from jealousy, not hate. Once we understand the true concept of love, infatuation seems childish . . .

   --written by special guest blogger, ML
     ...a few decades back...
   (entered by MayarOwl 6/8/07)

Fantasy . . . or reality

2007-06-08T15:37:00.000-05:00

As I sit here, alone, in the midst of these four lonely walls, I think of our first evening together. I remember the first time our eyes met, unaware that it was destined for us to meet. The warmth and tenderness you portrayed that evening, created such an emotional arousal within me that I have never experienced before.

     Experiencing the throbbing pangs of desire, to know you ultimately and to the highest limitations known to mankind. Our spiritual beings, trying to find each other, unaware of the obstacles and limitations that stand in our way of the desire to want, love, need and care that we both yearn for.

     Ours is the beginning of a journey to new heights and experiences that any two people could reach in a lifetime. A person to share things with, trust in and care about is what everyone desires, and we are no exception.

     To look into your eyes, is like exploring something completely unknown, wondering if it is fantasy or reality, feeling totally complete just to be near you.

     To look into your eyes, I feel completely hypnotized, compelled and willing to do whatever you desire, hoping you will always be there when I need that "Special Someone"... Whenever... intimacy between two people who want nothing else, except each other... no matter what . . . .

   --written by special guest blogger, ML
     ...a few decades ago...
   (entered by MayarOwl 6/8/07)

I'll take your coffee cup, honey . . .

2007-06-07T16:17:00.000-05:00

Last saw her stepping into the kitchen . . .

There weren't any fences between us.
Everyone made sure children behaved,
discipline problem almost never seen.
Time ran same direction, clock hands counterclockwise.

Large library/study one step below
rest of house a little bigger. Books
stacked high on every wall, desk other end
from kitchen entrance to house across

from back door. Saelach had visited
with students' essays to be reviewed
earlier that evening. References checked,
I knew it was my last evening and

finally laid head on folded arms to depart . . .+

--6/5/07

Ring of truth

2007-06-04T17:48:00.000-05:00

I can't help it if you . . .

didn't know, weren't told & didn't look.
You brought it on yourself, because
you couldn't not know, and knew it.

You played the education 'game,' even college;
and you still didn't look, already knowing
what you'd find. Hiding in the crowd,

joining group-think, you steeled yourself
purposefully against inevitable destruction
knowing time would run out for you

up against oblivion . . .

--6/3/07

3/4s to the end . . .

2007-06-04T17:41:00.000-05:00

of life, elation, epiphany and that
which was almost not found.
Now I must be patient, hoping to help others
see that it's not 'out there' anywhere,

but rather only within. Yes, I understand
there is great beauty showing forth
our Creator's glory, but it is not
what is to be found from within.

Spent much time in exultation from
epiphany to epiphany, from glory to glory
of His creation, especially in the deeper,
higher levels of consciousness; but

there came the time I knew would,
when I would have to dig in deeper, still,
for the Great Mystery hidden only
to those who had not perfect love.

And when found, was greatest treasure of all,
though not as the world would count treasure.
9/10s to the end now, so close to eternity . . .

--6/2/07

Our Creator, dimensions, seeking & meditation

2007-05-25T14:52:00.000-05:00

There is and can only be one Creator, Who created all that exists, including man and angel alike, out of that which was not as yet even nothing, simply by speaking. Our Creator does not exist; He created existence itself (though He did permanently manifest Himself into it later for us). You see, He is; which means that "being" and knowing is greater than existence and thinking. Thinking is not knowing, and neither is thought knowledge. The "I think, therefore I am," completely misses the truth; however, "To be or not to be," is much closer.
       Contrary to popular opinion (i.e., Michou Kaku, a world-renowned theoretical astrophysicist), there are only seven dimensions, not eleven (in the first major level of consciousness where matter & energy exists), and no parallel ones. You see, he left out of his mathematics the absolute that each successive dimension must be perfectly perpendicular to all dimensions below, even if perpendicularity must take on an entirely new understanding (e.g., time is perfectly perpendicular to heighth, width & depth, etc.).
       Also, those of you scientists (who are wasting a lot of our money) building "gravity wave" dectectors are wasting your time, because there is no such thing by any means. And, perhaps much to your chagrin, gravity is instant across the universe; otherwise it would completely come apart and "evaporate" back into that which neither exists nor does not exist. You see, gravity doesn't take time, but it does take space, instant across it at all times.
       The event horizon of a black hole is the cross-over "(mem-)brane" from the fourth to the fifth dimension. You can only have two axes of rotation in four dimensions, but with the greater mass & angular momentum which a black hole has, a third "axis" of rotation could only manifest in the fifth dimension (non-locational, non-durational existence), which appears mathematically to us as a "singularity."

Meditation   "The process of learning how to control
      the mind/soul (i.e., to rein it in) and its emotion/
      thought (taking its territory), to focus it, to
      concentrate and then finally learning how also
      to make it just shut up entirely and listen intently
      within (for that which this world knows nothing
      of), all in the essential context of interaction with
      the breath (not control of, a critical difference),
      after completely relaxing with a comfortable
      posture (back straight, head aligned), though
      remaining perfectly alert, always remembering
      to discriminate between imagination & true
      perception (keeping imagination silent and
      perceptions shelved for later), continuing ever
      deeper & deeper within, toward being and
      knowing beyond existence entirely."

   So, go within or go without, in every sense of that phrase. And let not others, the world at large or even yourself tell you who you are, but seek of our Creator, Who knows who you are perfectly, within. There is no greater search, than unto Him for truth, being, perfect light, knowing and understanding.

How do I know these things? Let's talk and I will show you.

       *selah*

The elusive one

2007-05-25T14:49:00.000-05:00

Melancholy calls and only sadness hears
and (while sharing brief respite with great joy)
looks back, shaking head . . .      knowing same

Same runs through great expanse of time
among no ken . . .      while none see
and Creator beckons away melancholy

Melancholy hopes for promised twinkling
while eye holds vigil, unveering
unable to help all who pass . . .      blind

Blind they go, toward end
with new beginning utterly unseen
last to see them go . . .      melancholy fading . . .

   --8/18/06 @ 4:08 am zulu

In that quiet place . . .

2007-05-25T14:48:00.000-05:00

In that quiet place, you can see forever
In my quiet place, I have great peace
In your quiet place, I hope for you such
In their unquiet place, I find desolation

In that quiet place, there is great treasure
In my quiet place, there is so much more
In your quiet place, I hope more for you
In their unquiet place, there is no one

In that quiet place, there is great solace
In my quiet place, I have great comfort
In your quiet place, I see that you care
In their unquiet place, demons hold court

In that quiet place, there are great wonders
In my quiet place, there is hope of promise
In your quiet place, I see you long for more
In their unquiet place, there is great pending doom

In that quiet place, there is great rejoicing
In my quiet place, I have elation and exultation
In your quiet place, you will find answering
In their unquiet place, there is only dread

In the aforetime . . .

2007-05-25T14:46:00.000-05:00

I stand on escarpment
looking into depths either side
of great joy and great sadness
where none can follow . . . and hope

And still (in standing) I hold back
all that could destroy me, but not alone.

I drop to knees, not all my own
and seek unto Him for respite,
weeping at such great joy and sadness.

I hope in such depths, seeing,
that one may share even experience
that which holds terror or exaltation.

Only the Ancient of Days has understood
to deliver, quell, quiet and fellowship
along the eternal hallway where
only our Creator had walked aforetime.

*selah*

Are you there?

2007-05-25T14:44:00.000-05:00

You speak and I cannot hear you.
Yet again you speak; still I hear not.
And again, you speak; still yet I do not hear.
You reach not unto deep, only standing in shallows.

I weep at the quiet I hear, when you speak.
Head in hands, bowed low, I pray for you.
I cry again, deep calling unto deep.
You still yet hear not. Where are you?

I cry yet again, and nothing returns . . .
Then I whisper, "Are you there?"
Peering into darkness, I seek for any sign of you,
finding only faint images, fleeting through vapor.

My soul cries, fearing you are not.
Yet I see you, standing still, in shadow.
Hardly a dim glow, you shimmer not with life.
I turn again, unto life, hoping not, unto death.

*selah*
--for the rest

Glorious to none

2007-05-25T14:43:00.001-05:00

As we go, we fall, 'til we rise.
Too many things to focus on;
too few things to work with,
and those who will never help.

We go down, until we go up;
when all shall then know, where
the River+ passes without notice.
I see its rush, glorious to none.

I hope I see you there, not here.
Without you, it's not the same.
Find Him, when you're alone.
In clamor, He is not to be found.

Quiet places abound; go within.
Only there, true stillness, silence,
and that which does not end,
boundless, has neither beginning.

--for Don

I see Lain, walking . . .

2007-05-25T14:42:00.000-05:00

She doesn't need to look back;
she knows I'm there, not following,
hoping she can glance, askance from then.

For now, there is only future, yet unseen;
though nevertheless, yet seen, known,
understood in all its fulness of glory.

What have you seen within? Anything?
Only deep yearning hope that you will see.
Turn your eyes inward, toward within.

Or you will only see utter destruction, for
you have not sought unto being, only existence,
where there is only awareness, not knowing.

--for Boa (Duvet, for Lain)

Where quiet could not endure . . .

2007-05-25T14:39:00.000-05:00

Walking to gather in joy, betimes I sink to knees,
weeping, holding her 'round the waist, in deep joy
sought after in her greatest hope
of knowing that which does not appear,
whereunto few hearts seek of Him.

. . . she sat in hope, appearing unto desire,
appealing unto one for a sharing,
who knows how few aspire to ever know.

Not declining, he salutes her heart,
asking for prayer for each unto Him only,
Who knows hearts, who seek His joy and gladness.

Hoping against hope, I still wait and hope,
for just one heart to share that which
cannot be shared, in this world of violence.

I call quietly, heart unto heart, listening,
hoping for countenance of understanding,
and eyes seeing light unspeakable,
shared in din of silence, where quiet could not endure . . .

--for Ann (of Walnut)
--Thanksgiving 2005, 6:50 pm

Truth

2007-05-25T14:37:00.000-05:00

You think you've been everywhere,
and you think you know everywhen.
I know you have not, that you care not.
Still you swagger, unto destruction.

I have not been everywhere,
but I have been almost everywhen;
which makes all the difference.
Far from then, you can see everywhere.

You've been almost nowhere, hardly anywhen.
You look at me, with empty eyes and ears,
thinking you've seen and heard it all, but no.
Hope did not die with you; hope never knew you.

I found great hope, very early in this life,
and I knew where to go, from deep within.
But what about you, you all, who know not?
Who have never sought, that which meant most.

*selah*
--for K.Q.M.

It's okay

2007-05-25T14:36:00.000-05:00

It's okay to believe, when you know it's true.
I've known for ages what must make you sad.
And it's still okay to believe; it's all true.
There is so much more you cannot know.

I speak through a computer now,
with limited inflection, though enough.
Enough to fill in your own part,
always intended, though unknown.

Now that you know, don't let her speak,
not melancholy, whose voice only detains.
There is no time; feel the new velocity,
the speeding River,+ so much a blur, almost in focus.

Synapse to synapse to synapse, without collapse.
I move closer and you implode, oblivious.
Nothing I can do, you never looked within.
And you never told me, or you can't.

What you think you see in me
is only what I hope for you,
with greater earnest than you know.
You have to know, but you have to really want it.

--for Mike (from 1969)

Sky unspeakable . . .

2007-05-25T14:34:00.000-05:00

So great a sea of quantic flux
between me and wondrous sky;
distance so short, quark to quark,
memory made clear in murk of melancholy.

Every detail's detail studied, my own;
and love for that sky in great exultation,
where sky, full in glory of gaseous nebula,
held this one's heart in soft crucible, before

I was brought here to find, that from within
which was far, far greater in elation
than all the joy found from before
I knew of this need, until one day

when, in my study, I laid head on folded arms
and departed that world for the first time,
and was carried to this one, in single purpose,
of climbing Jacob's Ladder, to Door of third heaven.

Carried, incapable of taking the final step,
that Door, opening unto eternity itself.
"A man in Christ above fourteen years ago, ...
such an one caught up to the third heaven."+

Three years remembering second heaven,
carried through precious Threshhold; then
(among that cloud of witnesses who watch)
unto third heaven, unto paradise itself.

--for Him

Death waits . . .

2007-05-25T14:32:00.000-05:00

Death speaks and you shudder; but you're still listening.
Death whispers, and your neck hair straightens.
Life happens, so full, yet you're bored!
Still, death holds dark fascination.

Why? But for fear, you still approach,
neck hair still, rigid, and you move yet closer.
Life beckons behind you, has always been with you;
yet death drops while you heed no notice.

Humor sits in a corner, eyes riveted on you.
You make no notice of your own unconscious dismissal.
You smile, seemingly arm in arm with life;
yet you walk in death, fascinated, without life.

Your legs stalks, your eyes windows unseeing.
No more hackles, no more stiffening of muscles.
As death became your friend, life stood weeping.
Someone plays single notes on a piano, just for you.

But only in requiem, one you will never hear.
Time to weep for the lost, who would not find,
not knowing that all their life, they were alone, within,
while life yet weeps, and death, still, awaits . . .

Yes, I've seen it

2007-05-25T14:27:00.000-05:00

How was it?               You don't want to know.
Where was it?               It's not a matter of where.
What is it?               You'll have your time.
'Time'? Begs when.               Soon enough, perhaps not.

         [Okay, we know what it is.]
But why?               Your rabbit hole isn't mine.
Rabbit hole?               Yes, you broke ground, not sky.
Sky? We own the sky!               Really? How did you miss it?
Miss what?!               'What'? We won't explain how.

Fooled again+

2007-05-25T14:25:00.000-05:00

Yeah, I watched it all from inside.
Even those who saw me, didn't see me.
Sad, isn't it? What can I say . . .
I saw all of you, sidetracked, and you missed it.

Manson,+ the war,+ hip, unhip, none the point,
which directed no intention within,
anywhere, not anywhere, where you weren't;
though you thought you were, so sad.

You didn't know me then, and most never will.
Will you see it now? Even Kent State+ didn't help.
No, it's not politics, religion, sex, even drugs.
It was all about the call from within, that

I heard in 1964, which you thought was something else.
It never was that, and you missed it entirely.
I hoped then you heard it, as I knew I had,
but you took a tangent and were carried away;

Where there was no where, still missing it.
I tried to help, but you wouldn't let me.
Rather you tried to convince me, of that
which I had set aside years before . . .

Mars

2007-05-25T14:21:00.000-05:00

a slow breath for death
in heavily     and out
he's floating     floating
unnnnnhh     ohhh
floating     he's lying     floating

in a panic she splashes
thrashes through the water to him
limp     sogged
dead to the brim

overwhelming quaking
oh my God     he's gone
Maaarrrs     noooo

made his marker
redwood
name     dates carved
it'd been a year
bare sod
gray     empty+

"I wanna be a policeman
ana     ana     a     a     fireman
yeah     an I can spray the water
see     an stop the fire
pishhhhhhhhh     pishhhhhhhh
see?"+

In memory of Marshall...
[published in the New York Quarterly in 1979]

Quiet road

2007-05-25T14:19:00.000-05:00

I came for you, the part of you
no one else knows, barely even yourself.
I see it, that concern you don't know
where to put, that quietly keeps your attention.

Your hope has been seen, now answered.
My being here was planned, but not by me.
Yes, there is more, a great deal more, within,
more than you've always hoped, much more.

I'm glad I met you, on your quiet road.
It's been a good thing, and I look forward
to your great joy, to see all
that you've hoped for, without words, inside.

From all that I've seen of the great tide
that first swept over me long ago
that I could never ignore, I knew
it would be for another, then and now . . .

Cloud of unknowing

2007-05-25T14:15:00.000-05:00

Shall I speak through fog or clearest light?
Where are you? I look and look and
despair of finding clear horizon, while
stars rise above smoke of destruction.

"I have finally found a way to live, . . .
in the presence of the Lord."+
My words dissipate in fog all around.
You see me, but I don't know it.

Neither do you; I hoped you were there.
You heard, but you only played while
I climbed through deeper/higher consciousness
leaving you behind, a sad smile in cloud of unknowing.

I have always searched for Him, while
He probed the depths of all that I was,+
hoping for His glory, not knowing the greatness,
the wondrous grandeur of His joy in us

that I eventually found as He drew me near.
How do I tell of what only you must seek?
I can only point and hope you hear His call.
"I have finally found a place to live,"+ . . .

Almost home

2007-05-25T14:13:00.000-05:00

Having looked and been where and what you fear,
you thought to prevent me.
Your words only lies,
this sleeper has awakened.

Your gom jabar+ only a distant pinprick;
you scream in my face, not seeing,
convinced completely that you have me.
I move easily on, you not knowing . . .+

From within, I watch through the years,
you, the latest generation of vipers;
you who "solemnly" invite while blocking the door,
going not in yourself, preventing others with lies.+

In the passage of time you will have never been,
and we will always be, never knowing you ever were.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
This is for you who must awaken,
always listen ever more intently within.

It is what you have always hoped
but never knew, hoping to come home,
not knowing how far you have been
while you approach ever deeper within . . .

Gritting teeth

2007-05-25T14:10:00.000-05:00

Heart surges, slowly pounding, hands trembling,
fear I hold for you, in your end,
missing forever, forever eternity,
never really having known, even time.

Your heart never kindled
desire for what cannot be seen,
never held in heart-soft crucible
in pain of joyous hope, overcoming

this world who wrest it from you.
Your heart never keened for beyond,
splashing in shallows of dead-old glee.
What happened to you after weening?

Did you not look beyond? So sad you would not
weep for the daughters untouched, unheld,
the unsuckled, sent before electrons streaming,
never given hope of hope, only lonely dreaming.

I sit now in last moments of grief
for you who would not and will not,
who stand ground on no foundation
gritting teeth against utter destruction . . .

Finality

2007-05-25T14:08:00.000-05:00

There's a story in all this,
but if you want to hear it
instead of finding it from within,
you'll have to talk to me.

Otherwise you swelter in willing ignorance,
the same I found in nineteen sixty-eight
among seven supposed brothers, never known,
"confident" arrogance sealing their end.

What about you? Will you look?
For that which frees all hearts
who seek for it in all diligence
with overwhelming desire for nothing else.

I am here to help, but you must,
must, understand it is greater than all else,
but bring compassion, wisdom and understanding,
leaving all else behind, or lose it all.

[Original titles: Finding It, then Losing It]

Disappearing feet

2007-05-25T14:06:00.000-05:00

Went early and deep, within, gathering.
You integrated without, not noticing.
Warrior to water, let's trade secrets.
I know what you need; you know what I want.

As you make each move, is it slow enough?
Considered well? with right intention?
No, within, not with convention.
You see it in me; I see you, incomplete.

You've thought about it, and dismissed it;
but it won't stop coming to mind, unbidden.
You've always puzzled about it, just one step away.
Your feet seem to disappear when you try.

I've been long there, waiting, watching,
to see who is light enough, to rise from within.
You know what still holds you enmired;
release yourself and find depths within depths . . .

--for martial artists

That you fall not . . .

2007-05-25T14:03:00.000-05:00

It's been a comfortable place, lately.
I know you don't understand,
because I've been here so long,
the other side of the coin of melancholy.

Aside, I might never have seen.
Still I know there's real hope.
You're there somewhere, I'm sure.
I just hope I can reach you.

If only we could see beyond ourselves.
There was a time when I could.
I tried to hold onto it and
I still want it back ---

I have it again now, still on the edge,
reaching out, no one knows to reach back.
I feel the razor's edge, nothing unusual,
an easy place, after this long.

What holds me here? You not here.
Do you see? If I weren't here, you'd be,
and I could only wail at your fall
knowing you'd never rise again.
*selah*

Run . . . !

2007-05-25T13:58:00.000-05:00

How is it you're silent . . . now?
You spoke long and hard, at leisure, dreaming.
I speak only a few words, and you stop.
You realize you have almost nothing, and look away.

Great treasure I've found, though not mine alone, within.
You've never sought after the one Mystery
I gave all for, nothing else worth knowing.
You gave nothing, not caring great treasure waited.

I sprinted from childhood; you still saunter through molasses.
----------------------------------------------------
...visited my third launchpoint today, 35 years back,
sugar-white sand then, dingy dirty now, ugly brown waves,
while seemingly mindless others wander on and off the beach.

You know where this is going, you've helped others.
I have, too. Still you won't look inside.
You think there's nothing there, but it's all there.
You have to know Him or you have nothing.

I have to walk in hope now, with faith unwavering
or all is lost. I hope I can help you,
but you gotta' reach back, deep within soon.
Time's running out, and you stand staring . . .

--12/30/06

Almost seen / Being still

2007-05-25T13:56:00.000-05:00

Sorrow mounts wing again,
this 'lost' voice with none to hear,
hanging weightless, universe amidst.
Few known, know not, and hope . . .

for comfort not sought . . . within.
Ramparts of joy out of reach,
languishing they sit, anchored in sorrow,
sharing in false relief, without hope of better.

Perhaps I have helped, sharing,
though soaring high, deep in sorrow,
still, hoping for a friend
who may loose the great joy . . .

Outstretched wings covering, still,
great distance, effortless . . .
seeking wellspring to drink.
Lifelong search, almost seen . . .

--3/23-24,26/07

The Great Serenity

2007-05-25T13:54:00.000-05:00

Seen, not known, felt, not understood,
I stand on next mountain over,
one man who cannot help,
those who look not unto spirit.

When their end comes, they won't know,
lost all in clamor & false gaiety.
Our hope has still only found a few,
but it is most blessed, when we meet.+

Arms outstretched to sky in gratitude,
I see your serenity, disturbed by man,
yet its depth and surety is seen
by one who has also known such.

May the Great Spirit reveal the Mystery
I have sought all my life, and found.
1970, no greater experience before
or since all these years,+ in serenity.

--3/31/07

No white flags . . .

2007-05-25T13:52:00.000-05:00

You can't understand, but you want to.
I stand falling, it's so easy...
I'm glad to know you tried, it means more
than you can know. Wish you could.

How much love can one's love have
without sharing something of oneself?
Always loved to meet people,
you understand why now, I know.

You know that song, goes like:
"I'm in love, and I always will be."*
I can no longer escape, but to reach out.
It's plain to see you can hear me.

Always... thank you.

(It's not just music... *White Flag, by Dido)

--4/4/07

Doors

2007-05-25T13:49:00.000-05:00

Not them, these, through which a few have
walked only into the foyer, just standing,
no matter how great the treasures beyond,
nothing of which can be given away.

As a woman searched long to find one
silver coin, and invited others to rejoice,*+
no one came to this one's invitation, still
searching for one who seeks the Mystery.

Sharing which can only be with those
who also have stored up such joy,
with whom only then can be rejoicing,
when all before will not be remembered.

Else how can joy be full, with
memory at all of what was, in that
place where all is oneness, with
no room for that which divides.

*Luke 15:8-9

--4/7/07

Fly spec .

2007-05-25T13:47:00.000-05:00

Large as life, fly spec yet am I .
View, as though from great distance,
close as the pore on a face,
better than wall-size HD TV.

The fly seemed normal in size;
saw him up close only once.
Now, still, great vistas pass.
Outside in sun, dried up would I .

In dark of night, time, much time,
without sleep, and all that's left,
stillness, thought and emotion with
next day dawning as another aeon.

Night again approaching, calm, I sigh,
ready to catch last breeze from within.
Having waited patiently through the day,
filled with clamor, affectation & nothing talk,
this dust mote moves on . . . . .

--4/8/07

More . . .

2007-05-25T13:44:00.000-05:00

Words multiplied, divided, subtracted,
only a few gems left, yours.
Offered now these few to engender
search beyond all for more . . .

Walked down a Toledo tree-lined lane, shown
grandeur shining in luster of full elation, 1971,
quiet, stillness, silence, only feathers rustling.
Lurked further within, knowing more waited.

Saw His glory like never before, such
wonder of what He shared in great beauty.
Decades later, one friend close reminds,
"May you walk in beauty."

for {{{(((Tachia)))}}}
--4/10/07

The cable guy goes canoeing

2007-05-25T13:41:00.000-05:00

Okay, downstream should be -10 to +5,
upstream between 40 & 50 dBmV*,
yeah, and signal to noise ratio 30 to 40.
Change those fittings & splitters, too.

----------------------------------------------------

No upstream here, downstream equals zero,
no sound except those of smiles
swirling paddles in elated depths,
avoiding rocks, whirlpools & the world.

An easy stream, sighing deep relief softly,
of man, canoe and quiet flowing water.
Easy breath soothed in upstream breeze.
Sandbar ahead, time to stretch legs.

No music to disturb the Rivers' canon,
'midst time stretched wide and long,
hoping for exultation riding elation,
resting on edges of eternity & home.

*deciBel milliVolts:
(optimal signal amplitude carried by low voltage)

--4/20/07

The one Great Mystery

2007-05-25T13:40:00.000-05:00

From dense fog of deep sadness,
emerging in painful breath with
a quiet sob, hoping for better,
I look earnestly for tearless days.

Bright faces, pale in dark of emptiness,
gaze exitedly back in counterfeit of life
they think is real, but alas only flesh
mixed with no mind of keening, dead itself,

without spark of life beyond this one;
which means all to one who seeks
the one Great Mystery of all the ages
only the Ancient of Days can reveal.

Sought after by those who know,
it is all they want to know;
nothing less of truth will satisfy
except our Creator Himself.

--4/21/07

Glory whispering . . .

2007-05-25T13:38:00.000-05:00

I have watched the sun set upside down.
"I am falling, I am fading, I have lost it all."...
"I am falling, I am fading, I am drowning,
Help me to breathe; I am hurting, I have lost it all,
I am losing, help me to breathe."*+

I was waiting, praying, thinking I'd lost it all.
I was watching, entreating, driven below the waves,
He helped me to breathe; I was hurting, thinking
I'd lost it all, I was losing, and He helped me to breathe.
Again I watched the sun set upside down . . .

I hoped you'd understand, but anger turned you away.
You were falling, fading, you were drowning;
unable to breathe, you were hurting, having lost it all.
You were losing, still unable to breathe,
and you glimpsed the sun setting straight up.

A shame you seemed an honest one,
I saw lifetimes ago when many suns rose at starset,
its glory, too wonderful to behold, whispering . . .
intricacies of starlight through darkness,
chaotic filigree of stardust elation interwoven.

*from Duvet by Boa, sung by Jasmine Rodgers
--4/28/07

Quiet place of any other

2007-05-25T13:35:00.000-05:00

Amidst rest, hardly entered into,
through high doorways most know not exist,
this one couldn't help but "stumble" into,
coming out of the world, away from utter distraction,

fully intended to keep one away from
the one panoramic display of the unuttered,
unknown by anyone else, accessed only by truest seekers
who find it in elated surprise of deepest, quiet epiphany,

within, a place most know nothing of,
invisibly inlaid into a clamorous world, full
of nothing which points toward deepest truth,
this one had to leave to find, from within.

Truth, only truth, nothing less helped to find
that which could not be otherwise found
by any means, not even by the deepest
vow of silence or the most penitent,

without being without all of the world,
fully dedicated to our Creator and none
other to walk with Him in places
He would not share with another.

I hope my words tell you something,
I cannot tell you; preludes to glory,
things far deeper than this, are.
*selah*

--5/1/07

Far on . . .

2007-05-25T13:34:00.000-05:00

Desperate after the perfect glimpse+
for more, I knew what I was up against.
So I dug deep in like never before.

Flesh behind, I used tools already developed,+
sharpening them in another battle, one
I knew was coming sooner, not later.

I'd been pushing through all envelopes.+
Looking back, they thought they had me,
knowing I'd not been up against such before.

But I had a decades-long practiced edge
against their deep, sharp angst and hate.
They had no purchase, not knowing.

They knew where to aim, but privily I took
their blows aside, dealing with them at leisure,
carving up their attacks quietly.

No one else there, but I wasn't alone.
I left them behind, battling emptiness.
Close engagement over, I moved far on . . .

--5/2/07

Nevermind / Let go

2007-05-25T13:31:00.000-05:00

(To the fatherless child, without mother:)

Not every poem seems like the last, next to eternity,
but I'm up against the end of forever;
so listen close dear ones, others nevermind.

Nevermind they were/are always right,
no matter that thinking isn't knowing.
They lose now, and then in utter destruction.

I'm talking to all you on the fence
looking at those in the valley of decision,
wondering which way to jump, fearful.

You're "chance" better than theirs, perhaps,
but don't make the fence your home.
You know which way to go, life or destruction.

A fatherless child, without mother of truth,
you've run hither and yon, hoping for snare
of love to gather you in, but ya' gotta' let go . . .

. . . of lies and hate.

Considered titles

2007-05-25T13:26:00.000-05:00

"Love me, love me, say that you love me."+
   Yeats, Keats, et al, had nothing on me
      You're not going to understand this
         Understanding the 'felonious' mind
            Ignore the poem, read the titles
               I'm sorry, I didn't expect that . . .
                     You didn't tell me the rest
                        The emperor has no clothes
                           Freedom of consciousness
                              Counting crow
                                 Meditation
                                    16oz 3.2s+
(So many titles, so little time . . .)

First beer, no problem, two same thing,
three, okay, feeling a little better now.
Attempting escape from things I can't change.

Four now, not enough yet, a little better.
Five, I took things they didn't know they had.
I tried to give them back; they didn't know me.

Six deep+, sigh, okay, that's plenty.
They were things I had already before taking theirs,
things they never knew they had, ignored, quietly
put in a closet, never used or even glanced at.

You know how it is, one beer and you're alcoholic.
It doesn't matter you never get drunk.
One sip and that's exactly what you are.
There's no escaping their 'inescapable logic.'

What they don't know is I went far further, before.
No, it wasn't crack, crank, meth or ice, etc.
It+ was much warmer, soothing, escaping flesh before
'those in the know' passed ignorant law in 'justified' arrogant fear.

Making the understanding mind felonious . . .

   --5/1/07

A rabbit hole deeper

2007-05-25T13:25:00.000-05:00

"Lucy in the sky with diamonds,"+
Yellow submarine, blue meanies,+
Obleo and his little dog Point,+
then back to Alice in Wonderland+
sitting in her restaurant, smiling . . .

. . . like the chesire cat, one tooth glinting,
both palms out, a blue pill and a red.+
Found how deep the rabbit hole went,
but it didn't go to wonderland.
Found a melancholy man behind four doors.+

First tamed an undisciplined, scattered mind,
then took the "blue pill"+ to wonders far
beyond the world, the universe and all in it.+
Stayed a few lifetimes, with reluctant return
to the same I'd left behind, not one step ahead.

Reaching out, next to none respond, still
not fully understanding even "wonderland."
Fantasy never what I wanted, only the Mystery itself.
Now I struggle against mankind's straight jacket
trying to reach the few who are left . . .

--5/4/07

For those who detract . . .

2007-05-25T13:22:00.000-05:00

You 'think' I'm playing, as you have them believing,
'positioning' yourself against me, your podium reeking evil.
We both know it, and you dissemble to eager ears of ilk
I've dealt with before, hissing vipers, ravening wolves.

In earnest, I entered the deep ahead of you.
You never saw me until hearing swirls.
Sensing me near, you crouch, looking around.
Still not seeing me, I prepare to decapitate.+

You find yourself back in the dry place,
the dry place you hate, even preferring swine.+
Yeah, I know it's you, I saw you coming from afar,
and you still don't get it, in arrogant rebellion.

An easy battle, where you thought you had me . . .
I take a soft sigh, shaking my head.
You still can't figure it out, can you?
Well, I was way ahead of you, even back in 1970.

*still standing*

--5/4/07

Satan bargains, loses again . . .

2007-05-25T13:17:00.000-05:00

Befriended before knowing, made no difference.
Promised help finally came, under authority.
Off the 'rez then, in bondage against threat.
So long without fear, this was no challenge.

They spat on him, called him babykiller.+
At the airport they had waited, not knowing
he would agree with one to kill another.
No one else was hiring & a hundred twenty died

among living dead who contracted with death.
"A hundred sixty-seven ways to get away with..."
a hundred twenty, now headlong toward destruction,
. . . while spitters sit comfortably, uncaring.

Satan's chosen found fear instead, against faith,
could not kill this one without fear & sought comfort.+
Left him confused and paralyzed, knowing with
third strike he'd never see grandchildren again.

--for Billy,

--5/25-26/07

Inclamorous heart

2007-05-23T17:48:00.000-05:00

Clamor awakens not, rather is sleepe of death.
Inclamorous, awakening others who search,
not finding, who nap while waiting, until
the appointed voice is sent, whispering to awaken . . .

all who hoped for so long, heart deep
in faith, knowing it had to be.
Hope not unfounded, answering awaited hearing,
always in pangs of travail, listening.

Sorrows too many, yet hope in faith, lives
unto truth, long awaited in patience, hoping
to hear what must be true, unconceived,
yet loved wholly, in trust of the Ancient of Days.

New life now awakens in fullness of answering,
keeping every hope, delivered to inclamorous hearts
who waited in sure faith of perfect answer,
completely fulfilled in clear epiphany.

--5/7/07

. . . exactly why

2007-05-23T17:46:00.000-05:00

      (I can't cry then . . .)

No one will say I told you so;
You won't be there to hear it.
Sorry you won't listen now.
To be or not, your choice.

I can't worry now
for what "the world" thinks.
Their own thinking preventing knowing.
And they're so "right,"

it just doesn't matter.
Bad thing is, it never will;
and they'll never know,
because they never wanted to.

Why? I've known forever,
         . . . exactly why.+
         Why don't you?

   --5/17/07

One question

2007-05-23T17:45:00.000-05:00

Love, friendship, companionship, understanding;
hate, enmity, negotiation, compromise.
Decisions: full cup, empty; bereft, overflowing.
You walk in vacuum, willingly unknowing+ . . .

Ambling without compass in self-imposed boredom,
you saunter through morass of empty entrainment
without even a penny in your beggardly cup,
against the sidewalk of forever, eternity whispering . . .

I walk by slowly seeking the faintest glint
of something worth retrieving from destruction,
finding only seared conscience, waiting
for next show to fill the terrible emptiness inside . . .

swept clean, wasted time's bones strewn about,
you just outside the door, in empty denial within
you never explored while not searching for truth
and the One Who created all . . .

One question . . . Why?

Departure

2007-05-23T17:30:00.000-05:00

I knew I was going to have to work hard,
but I'd had a good start, not realizing.
Eleven now, no one around seemed to know
there was far more than five, even six, senses.

Twelve, dug in deep and set off, gentile's bar mitzva
in hand & commitment to nothing less than the truth.
Learned electro-chemical language of breath first,
then to control it, imperceptibly slowing it.

Fifteen and brothers gone, six-hour meditations hung
me beyond space/time, but I had to know how
long the middle breath was. Clock-checked it,
forty-five minutes and hyperventilating still . . .

Sub-autonomic breath+ only brought in oxygen.
Had to slow it, too, or tingle head to foot.+
Learned a few years later some called it pranayama.+
No reading on or meditation teacher of, learned on my own.

--5/11/07

First steps within . . .

2007-05-23T16:49:00.000-05:00

(Happy Mother's Day)

"You sit quiet now, hands in your lap, and
  no looking around, sit straight & no fidgeting
  If you need to go to the bathroom, go,
  come back, sit down, be quiet, hands in your lap,
  no looking around, sit straight, no fidgeting."

It was okay, it was time for Mom to cook supper,
no one else to watch this active young boy; only
once in a while though, but I learned to think.
There was nothing else to do for an hour or two,
and while thinking, I found that quiet place inside . . .

Within, which I would soon deeply explore.
From age three to eight or nine, I sat from time
to time & learned to appreciate stillness;
and quietness helped to hear things, other
little boys knew nothing about . . .

that words couldn't touch, not even these.
It's how it all started, and she knew; and though
she didn't understand, she knew to go with it,
while she busied with biscuits and stuffed bell peppers,
eyes curious, watching while I took first steps, eyes closed . . .

         . . . unmoving, from across the dining room . . .

   --5/10/07