no script for that 12/31/19

God doesn’t wear a watch

or have a cell phone

or clamor for T.V. distractions

no car needed

language is not a must

wardrobes are for moralists

having space and time is merely a preoccupation

faint of mind keeps searching

the only sensing God does is oneness

and there is no script for that . . .

how time is speeding up 12/30/19

time passes more quickly with aging.

one is less eventfully impressed

within the mechanisms that account for experience.

recognition becomes more ho hum 

with its internal impact on oneself.

and the clarity of center mind-stage, 

using the strike-measurement of particulars, 

becomes more relaxed in recognition ways, 

as in, seen it, done it, and been there.

that which was unique with particulars for then, 

now is more cumulatively crowded

with like kind in its internal impact as affect. 

there by less distinguished on the recall.

therefore the breeze of time passing 

is less filled with the windfall of particulars 

as signposts or bench marks 

or turning points of reference.

there is less fill as the measurement means.

the mind is still churning 

but less features are outstandingly impressive. 

thereby ambiance becomes more of the measurement, 

with less outstanding indexes to fix upon 

as relevant in the recall process. 

so time seems to be speeding up 

based upon the fewer events to account for it

in a sequential way.

experience itself is then more a rendering

and less the process of immerse with astute account

stored in memory . . .  

lifestyle 12/29/19

a ‘lifestyle’ is a narrative, 

lost on the lure of perspective, 

as eventually the seduction of effort.

it’s a form of timeline selfie,

a conjure of a storyline,

a perusal of the laws and regulations

pertaining to projections

and forthcoming appearances to be given,

as how to meet the future

with a higher audience approval rating.

sure, there are some

who do and don’t care,

maybe even not in their field of play.

but there are plenty

who have a lifestyle summational mirror

and gander look-sees 

with some sense of familiarity,

maybe as a confidence builder,

easily as an answer 

to the philosophic question.

am I enjoying life?

memories then can provide an account

is lifestyle in measure.

can then be a bottom line response?

it is then

that lifestyle becomes a narrative 

as a inner self-dialogue response . . .

the last hermit 12/28/19

everyone is the last hermit of their kind.

they came from themselves, 

reincarnated once again.

they have renounced distractions 

from before and from now.

sure, there is karmic baggage

but there is also the undisclosed gift,

that is the drawnness of talent latent within.

everyone gives appearances to causes,

as if, somehow, the light shown through.

there is unsettling consternation 

at the apparel of circumstance.

sometimes the dream, and the draw

are faint from past-life memory.

generally it can appear as a guessing game.

the drawnness does not always have the mind's attention.

heart can't be heard over the harassment presenting.

but deeply within, the hermit recalls.

it is vaguely mentioned at odd times,

where the serendipitous lies unseen

but can arise 

against the contrast of normative life.

surely it can be dismissed a thousand times over.

no matter, it is instilled deeply within,

even if the punch-line is deathbed delivered.

everyone is the last hermit of their kind,

and they all, we all, honor, 

that which is the deeply within,

either by confluence, contrast or contradiction.

the dynamic is not dismissible,

even by denial, delusion, deception or denunciation.

the unique expression of oneness runs that deep.

diversity is the common prayer.

and everyone,

in their energetic truth,

is the last of their essential uniqueness in kind . . . 

the make-way of my day 12/27/19

oh with ease intended

to make floaty bubbles 

in a world of mundane air

to be of the inner speak 

translating the outer beauty seen

for casting magic’s presence 

out of the labor’s of shadows fall

to find the surprises of up-lift-meant 

in what exists as gravity’s putdown

for to be in a world of odor 

yet finding fragrances to dance

whereby manifesting zest 

out of the ponderous bales of the day

further finding facets of fascination 

while panning through the skirmishes with chores

yet boldly defying the gravity of conclusions

with the observations that inwardly exhilarate

to notice how composition 

is access to cause-worthiness 

how sensory input is open 

to personal interpretative flair

and the way that the day can become reflectively shiny 

from the broadcast of personal light

while giving every steadfast reactive urge 

the opportunity to wondrously evaporate into sky

and how the fabric of what-means, 

upon closer inspection,

has threads of intimate interior delight

how the body heat from another 

can be experienced 

as immeasurable, 

topped with silent glee

and where within that I have private prairies 

there are, for me, 

intimacies of explorable galore

for then to live in a world of meandering animation 

beyond the monuments of just cause

where personal freedom resides 

beyond perception’s retrieval 

and dignity itself,

is composed of essentially all moving parts

to where simplicity is the costume of innocence 

woven into the complexity of the all

and to eventually notice

that not all that is sensed 

comes simply from the embraces 

offered by awareness

and not all of dark 

is just composed of shady

but some of it is 

the formal omnipresence of the unknown

so for now 

there is the offering of all these endless gifts

and I will use my method of personal experience 

to essentially unwrap them 

in the make-way of my day . . . 

the quarry of content 12/26/19

life is not about the profundity of content.

breath is so much closer to living the truth

than recognition of content can offer.

the occupancy of content actually exists 

as clutter to authentic consciousness.

deep-worth does not present itself

but offers immersion potential.

true recognition does not have a mind-screen

but exists more profoundly as the results 

of a oneness embrace.

there are forever eyes 

beyond the onset of content.

it is the visually profound shapelessness

that does not settle to be objectified,

that senses experience only as a bystanders' account.

it is a prominence without foreground and back,

a presence beyond even contradiction's grasp,

a feeling that inundates the mind-room

before it can quick-flood into words.

where feeling is all of light

before its effort at journey arises.

the myth of content provides the altar

for the prayer of reality to be offered.

sometimes authentic prayers are answered

but not in the form of replies,

not even in the presentation of miracles, 

but more so, in the sense of self love acknowledged,

in the advances of empathetic inclusions,

in the rise of emotional presence to be shared,

and possibly a dimensional grasp of being 

from soul perspective.

yet content is such a disguise, 

to be playing with

and not get 

what the absolute quest is about . . .

the savant of aging 12/25/19

the savant of aging

aging is a tug of war

in which an army of cells

work against opposing forces of living.

some internal, some not,

and you, as you are aware,

are the tensions of energetic rope existence 

and your consciousness is that online knot. 

supposedly starting at birth, 

right in the middle of the life-death struggle.

some parts seem endlessly easy

while others are both invisibly hard

and come seemingly out of nowhere.

expecting a long rope of relative constant success

but fatigue plays its part

both by moment to moment

and also by years stretched into decades.

a new you, at least every seven years.

the initial cheerleader of you is fearless,

casual and triumphant without claim,

then becomes the one of you

who begins to show actual interest.

the one who assesses, who takes account into action.

then eventually becomes the one who is charmed by success

and who is in alarm at the platitudes of failure.

there becomes a bigger picture in frame.

anecdotals become more than hearsay.

the self-narrative is now in measures amongst others.

decades begin to cast long shadows.

days have a sunset appeal.

what was once fluid in motion, 

now has chirps, beeps, honks, cranks, 

low rumbling sounds, 

chronics at street conners of the body,

and opinions and diagnosis as interplay on the mind.

there is a mirror facing

that has a timeline on it.

and what you see is an estimate of being.

aging is now a mountain at low tide in view.

some move with tired feet on the mind

while others pace their presence in the day.

the script does not fly off the page any more

but can be well read and pronounced with deliverance.

that which was a fountain in full aerial arrays

is now a somewhat tranquil pool, stable and reflective,

more with the containment rather than the display.

aging tends to alter the font of existence,

maybe event the cause for punctuation's emphasis.

tell me the narrative is still a self beyond concern,

a self as spirit beyond journey's toll.

that it was discovered not to be a war of effort

but a wisdom finding wherewithal,

and aging providing fruit from labor's past

and a quality of light from within 

that passes into others more easily now than then,

and that there is an economy to the carriage of being.

no more with the wild distractions of interest,

less of the self as enterprise

and the deep story of existence for finding light.

an amazing quality of light

coming through your presence and your eyes.

that is the conversation 

I want to be in your presence.

no words, all being, we carry on . . .

the secret agenda of you 12/24/19

who you really are, 

behind the reality pretext, 

will never surface for others to see. 

that transformative source of you will function 

manifest through the projection of you 

as its medium.

you are here for transformational purposes 

undisclosed to those around you. 

you have insight and means 

beyond the evident. 

do not be distracted by ego lessons that befall you.

find personal ways and means 

to serve the advance of the human condition 

even if but one person at a time 

as well as the core reality 

which people live under those influences 

and within those restraints. 

your ego is a great tool, 

it is your schtick to use, once mastered 

even your emotional presence can serve in that regard 

the deeper truth of you is incredulous, 

sometimes even to you. 

go figure from the inside out. 

it is like channeling your higher self 

into the version of you already present 

and being able to handle the vision, 

develop the penetrative focusing skills 

and then the means to make it so 

for all of those around you . . .

the surfaces we play 12/23/19

the surfaces we play off of:

chess boards,

bingo cards, 

poker tables,

windshields, 

kitchen counters,

mirrors reflecting, 

monitor screens on, 

hand-helds,

the sky reflecting, 

the surfaces of mass,

the touch of others,

skin we are in, 

conclusions of the mind,

and feelings 

that have surface demands.

they all ask 

that we play. 

to be beyond: 

the drama,

the opera,

the comedy,

the musical, 

the performance, 

and the competition.

to play for real,

from the heart,

and to dance 

to dance all those expressions alive . . .

this prayer thing 12/22/19

this prayer is a racket.

words with shoes on, 

lips rambling along

shuffling onward as if a stumble-dance.

yet there is a background of 'humble mind' playing.

there is broadcast of people sounds, 

as if they know the words.

little peeps of emotion, 

creeping between lines.

but then, deep sighs 

this is phantasmagoric,

as if water birds diving for diner are passing by.

just the body-heat generated by the group dynamic

is more the subtle substance of a bus-stop cover station.

but the racket itself,

is like a species that cackles. 

it's not fingernails against a blackboard bad

but it is in less unison than a hen house in chatter.

it's like a group free-fall's discovery

that there are not enough parachutes to go around.

oh it's all in earnestness, 

but weepy.

like if icebergs appear to be crying 

because it is an exceptionally hot day.

it's like panic, 

dressed up as secret service agents,

all gathered together 

but looking anonymous as a crowd.

this must be an off off-broadway show's first night

and rehearsals have not gone well, up to now.

I am sure there is an authentic cause for all of this,

a common theme 

beyond a fear reaction to what god knows.

but 'make it go away' 

is a rough translation as to what this is about,

is really not addressing the moment.

prayer like this is an audience response

as if god is putting on a show.

advanced sales always run deep in tradition.

everybody wishes they had better seats.

so when does worship like this

look in the mirror and realize

prayer is an inner dialogue 

with the god within.

that self of source,

in a language base of their own emotional making.

how can one be,

by their own divinity?

the theater of their heart 

has no audience,

without full and complete participation . . .

thought about thinking 12/21/19

have you ever thought about thinking,

as if sitting on the edge of a lake-pier looking out

with the water surface withholding 

a further in-depth view

or mindfully came upon a convention of conclusions,

all resting on their recited laurels 

as if staid of circumstance made evident

yet somewhere lost 

between loitering and its linger

or imagining a beyond 

where thought has no entry?

yet think can blindly go

and not be thought-provoked.

yes, with no provocation, 

no reactiveness as impulse or urges,

a think that chisels its way

effortlessly back behind the shimmer of words

to a reveal that has an innocence of sheen to it,

that has a clear and distinctive 

but not a comparison to.

a think that is beyond any previous specified attachment,

even beyond the habit of knowing.

a think that has its birth and creation 

and its own origins of zeal.

a think that takes one as whole

up and into, as if away

from the prerogative of questioning, 

that, ‘was I ever a person’ (?)

and then this, appeared to be?

oh for that’s that, thoughts have longings

as if they want to travel 

to experience further

and then this, out of the blue, happens,

a think without a homeland 

to fallback upon, 

as if memories are mothers

yes way before origin had insistence,

before mind had drone awareness.

a think, that if given the chance,

that would undefined itself of me.

a think beyond meaningful's measure,

way beyond the limits of relevance.

but I’m just saying,

this is what idleness is for me,

a preparedness,

yes that think without thought's assistance

would actually provide . . .

we're the same rain 12/20/19

once, we were the same rain.

we danced across the sky,

seeing the sights as if of lifetimes together.

when we came to earth, this time round,

it was the winter for where we were.

the freeze became a reality fix.

frozen into human forms.

sight was a different intake

from a different locational lens.

we, as icebergs waiting on the blessedness

of life as the thaw.

you went one way, in the trickle-down, 

I, another.

these mediums of transition 

gave us differences of perspective and appearance.

the stream I traveled, more underground,

different from yours.

you had surface and exposure in the flow.

you, turbulence and sunlight basking.

I may have been inwardly 

only water table worthy

yet not very earthbound.

we approach primal 

under different interface guidance

yet originally from the same rain.

the subtly of viscosity reigns

yet for each of us, 

in somewhat separate ways.

I know how your breath works 

to listen to your feelings.

we still talk in silent ways.

it is the invisibles,

on a reality chess board, 

with emotional pieces 

buried inside each touch as grip.

we persist, 

on the same eventual winning side,

not to conquer 

but with emotional viscosity in play.

the moving force of mass as representation

has no imagination quite like ours.

the feel of liquids 

know genius of motion in many forms.

I know you in an unburdened way,

but not in denial of all that is.

language is slow on the uptake.

presence is multidimensionally faster,

even if only in thought-form 

yet multi-realm ways.

we can't escape from timelessness.

we know of each other beyond personage.

the ground I want for you is sky.

for we are still from the same rain

yet disguised now by appearances 

and these methods of passage . . .

what's with mind-fill 12/19/19

the river of the unknowable surrounds me.

it's a flash flood if I am in panic.

my senses are on high alert

as if knowledge is shortly coming my way.

the take of two explanations with fluids

and then I can relax again

into my somber as if a version of my story told.

but then, the forest of unknowables appears.

my mind is a walk in the woods.

knowing is all directions at once. 

I am a linear rational, 

short of understanding this.

maybe this is what anxiety is all about.

a self-dialogue as a herd of run-on sentences, 

spoken as a stampede coming through me.

if my mind is just a wherewithal,

then what's the point of the constant broadcast of that?

I've been fed a constant diet of retentive-mind fuels.

I could be a racehorse of knowing,

a lab-rat of futures to be discovered,

a rational person in constituency potential,

a species of entitlement personified,

but what's with the mind-fill?

why do I have to be so separate by method

to be so hungry for closure to occur,

for oneness to be beyond self-evident?

am I just all-parachute, 

with no specific gravity calling me

or just a helium blob 

without any balloon containment.

and I seriously don't want answers

as a form of intelligent response . . .

yours truly, 12/18/19

the misnomer of higher education is,

as if it is supposed to be retentive mind learning. 

is this supposed to mean higher learning?

a working premise might be:

higher education may not be knowledge

but more diverse ways of thinking 

coming into thought.

well, is it information that gets better income?

would that be higher learning?

being in the socially constructed know,

would that be higher learning?

living with realized wealth,

would that be higher learning?

getting more advance of degrees,

would that be higher learning?

in the age of specialization 

is it the advance of higher learning or earning?

higher learning, is that knowhow

or is that know how?

yours truly,

embattled, embroiled, and askanced . . .

what gives experience 12/17/19

I have a topside that responds 

to the winds of what people say.

I have a feel-liquidity that responds

with the potential of tears held in check.

I have a physicality that responds

as if experience was luggage with decals.

I don’t know what it means

when “it’s a load off my mind”.

I can either go to a place 

like, where I can stare at icebergs

until something of recognition appears

or I can go directly there 

and carve like crazy

and see, for a short time,

what I created to represent 

what I sense or feel inwardly.

but the glacial melt is always on.

creation, in this way, meets its maker 

and it is gone.

and I am then left with what drives me

and what it means for that to be so.

armed with the think and these skills,

what is this next moment’s calling?

in the long view,

every moment is manifest-creation and then gone.

and what is my carry forward from that?

the haunt of memories?

the storied account?

the undisclosed drive propelling me?

all that is relevant, is coming out of me

yet all of experience is directed into me.

well, I thought all of this to be true,

but really, the blessedness of giving,

and channeling the feel of being

seems to be the profound gift of giving,

as the only experience 

that runs deeper then memory justifies.

it has an impenetrable now

but that now has this presence to it,

like a lit candle in the otherwise dark of life.

there is nothing else to living

but being the light that comes through.

therefore no photo-albums, no grand stories,

no family unit is then the greater human whole,

there is no history or archives of account 

to reflect upon that clearly.

just letting the life-force through,

with consciousness as the servant

and embrace from deeply within

what gives experience 

this essence sense of life . . .

we are our own pretend 12/16/19

as long as we are doing countries, 

we are insulting mother earth.

as long as we are species-superior

we are abusing mother earth.

as long as we proceed with inferior intelligence,

we are living the insult alive on mother earth.

as long as we proceed with the intelligence of science

we are lavishly and pompously ignoring mother earth,

except for its usage as a staging arena.

mother earth is in receivership of our unwanteds, 

savaged by our inhumane wars,

totally affected by our misuse of earth as resources.

and the earth itself is trivialized 

as a primary supporter 

of our vain attempts at controlling 

in human superficial matters and manners.

we have planetary worth as cursory 

to our myopic needs.

we are the species that will die

from its own pretend . . .

tone-deaf (haiku) 12/15/19

is tone-deaf spot-on?

like humans in world crisis

center stage, but not?

to know without think 12/14/19

oh for the weight of thought that labors as experience,

not in poundage but in energetic output.

the lake of experience is producing evaporatives

as the atmosphere is filled in psychic reception.

apparently unconsciously pooling thought

is a false premise of machiavellian principle.

emotional is the eternal translator 

yet muted under these circumstances.

we lived in a bystander language base spoken.

we are more so referential rather than authentic

yet that is the learning transition from childhood

where understanding rides heard on what is meant

and emotional authenticity is imprisoned 

away from meaning and selectively kept alive by tone.

topic and tone lie to each other throughout the day

and speech becomes the colluder for each of us.

we accept what is heard as what was meant

yet emotionally much lives in denial

and comprehension buries 

that possible irrational emotional intent

by the override of meaningful as expected.

the soul rises to hear these tones but is dismissed as topic.

thought suffers the consequences of this training

yet the emotions run wellspring deep.

feeling lives in these evaporitives expressed by others,

yet language by topic directed is under-dimensionalized. 

we cling to lyrics that float on the lake-surface of meaning

because below the surface of the lake feelings prospers.

therefore there is depth of being that goes unnoticed. 

the potential for this to not be realized is prominent.

but by these evaporative means, others intake to partake.

therefore there is an invisible lake in the sky

and we all travel there inwardly 

in the brain-scape of our common heartfelt heaven.

some just treetop observe while others soar in flights.

words can never represent the flight of this flock.

some day sky will speak through us all

as common emotional celestials.

and language, as used now, will be a ritual of the past,

as if bookmarks, when no more reading is necessary,

as if fences that everyone now thoroughly sees thru,

as if telepathic is accepted at birth to be cultivated,

as if the heart-brain relies on oneness

while the mind-brain succumbs to be in service to love.

diversity is then seen to express the oneness.

amelioration is the primary use of language for then.

all details expressed, further the sense of connection.

humans come to know without think.

thought is not readily maintained as useful.

thought is a fall back position to honor the past

as if time had a status without actual usage in mind.

we are all already there, 

yet peeling away the grime and the grind.

expectation has atrophied for the lack of usage.

the skills for entering the now have developed.

being is already in that nature of speak

and conversation only creates a richer now.

that which was evaporative is now soul-filled

and the minds of beings travel as if from within it.

in a mystical way, breath becomes metaphor

as spirit dwells profoundly present

in each human as the one enlightenment 

of the collective of us . . .