Ocean, water vapor, cloud, rain,
grass, cow, milk, ice cream.
All are part of the other.
None are without the other,
except in name.
Mishka, Francois, Arlene, Jose,
Alberto, Lao, Jagathi, Roy,
Simon, Ki, Marisol, Christy.
Deliver us from the evil
where ice cream comes from.
To breathe, one must stop talking.
To listen, one must stop hearing.
To see, one must stop looking.
And to be still, one must stop.
If you bend over to pick up
one more thing,
there will come that final thing which
causes you to fall down.
You will be able to rise again
only by letting go.
Do so, and live.
Hang on, and you will die rich.
You’ll be dead, with stuff.
Luke 23:9: Pilate questioned Jesus at length, but Jesus gave him no answer.
The stillpoint is where the dance leads to, and from whence it begins.
Jesus was not quiet so that others could answer for him;
he was quiet so that others would listen
And continue the dance.
I know something of the Buddha;
that means I know very little.
I am very knowledgeable about the Christ;
which means I know almost nothing.
The more I know
the less I understand
and that is the way it must be-
it is the way that the universe moves,
It is the way I learned to walk,
it is the way the moon caresses
and it is the only way I know to pray.
What I know, I become attached to.
And attachment ends movement.
What I am free of, I can be curious about:
I can learn more, seek more,
Beyond the colors of visible light,
beyond the sources of invisible light,
there is the source of all laughter.
It is the absurdity of not-knowing,
the unbelievability of that which has never
been believed before.
It is the wordless exclamation of
recognition which comes before understanding,
and of discovery which comes before expectation.
It is the sound that follows the statement,
“There are a hundred billion galaxies
each with a hundred billion stars,”
or which resounds when
the dog sticks his nose in a bowl of ice cream
and sneezes in your face.
Same laughter. Same source.
Same sound. Same resounding.
first there is a mountain
then there is no mountain
then there is
and after a million years it will be gone
and then there will be another
much like the one before
but not the same
and it will be gone, too
and there will be a final
before that which is
As Hafiz writes:
the sun has never said to the earth,
“You owe me.”
In perfect acceptance and
infinite balance, they are:
together, separate but one.
To upset that balance
is to contend with toxic oceans
and melting nuclear reactors
1, 2, 3, 4..
Whimpers of the end
are echoing and the
bills we have hidden beneath
piles of plastic
to see other reactions, or to react to the reactions of the Tao, go to:
The motions of faith-
are indicators of chaos,
soon to come.
When they mean nothing
but words (growing thin),
the words (even thinner now)
become someone’s property.
That’s when forts are built
and trenches are dug
and bastions are fortified.
That’s when truth becomes stagnant
and must be enforced,
rather than accepted,
because it stinks.
That is also the time, though.
with eyes that can see
and ears that can hear
that there may be perceived
(look hard, breathe deeply)
the beginnings of everything new.
Sitting beside an early-springtime lake,
the wind in my face is still a bit chilly
and the shore plants- reeds and grasses-
are now barely beginning green.
I try to imagine what it would be like
to watch this lakeside world
I was the only one doing so.
To watch with
no anticipation nor anxiety but my own,
no memory nor regret
and no truths.
(I also imagine)
hear only the unending echo of
and in some green-leafy,
a very real Love.
We are standing on Holy Ground.
At other times, the earth falls away:
beams fall, mountains burn,
and water levels all that remains.
Yet, it begins anew
and green sprouts appear, then trees
and fruits and then-
against all odds-
fish begin to walk.
One day, eons later, Holy Ground
will be proclaimed,
and stood upon