Poem
These are poems I have written over the years. They represent hard won insights from psychotherapy, spiritual practice, and medicine journeys.
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Who wants me?
Mum is One in whom One finds total safety and absolute belonging. Dad is One in whom One finds gentle power and unconditional significance. Guru is One in whom One finds perfect emptiness. One presence pouring and refracting through the prism/person projecting all these coloured lights. All that in others you have been seeking: find…
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Hands off
The mind can not contain the Sun that is Truth. Like the basket that would bear fire, it disintegrates into smoke and dust. Do not smash your teeth, trying to chew Truth. Let it pass through you. Empty, clear, and still, such a mind like a lens, bears the Sun’s power into the world, without…
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Puzzle of Community
I am not sure I can form attachment bonds to others. I can love: deeply and sincerely too, but it’s of the moment. Setting aside society’s moral ideal of eternal love, why is it so? There is perhaps too much fear of the other. Or, like a candle sharing its flame to light another, one…
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Being Nice
I am nice because I’m scared, and within the realm of social community, niceness keeps me safe, from the evil eye of negative judgment. Because that’s all it takes, for all the doors to close: to be locked out of a group, and fall out of civilization, into, homelessness, and sheer life or death survival,…
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The idea of who I am
Present as presence, with the idea of who I am. Its noisy narrative fiction floating clearly in a silent beingness. Its blind activity brightly exposed: arbitrary against the rest of inactivity. These little selves are just ideas, that we continue to make believe, thought and nothing more. They can be discarded, and in their absence,…
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Absolute Terror
The life or death terror of a baby: everlasting without sense of time, is as absolute as its helplessness. The baby: helplessly overwhelmed by fear, lives on as the ever anxious adult, whose thinking – ever fearing: tomorrow; that all their nightmare will come true. The adult must deconstruct their fearful thinking, and with sharp…
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All the little games
All the little games, we play under our masks, can get a little dark. Hidden selfishness: counterfeit sentiment. Suffocating in a society, so emotionally contorted, while private crookedness, runs the show, and writes our public-persona’s lines. This synthetic harmony, of docile niceness, lubricates and quenches, with the sludge of brainless convention, the friction that might…
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Mint & Rose
Mint and rose are my favourite flavours. A person has finally coalesced and stabilized like a mid-winter fruit from the spiraling vine of my damaged and traumatized mental continuum. A “me and my life” is. Grateful as I am, I see that this person is just the current flower head of a perennial continuum of…
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exit all thinking
The past is a fairy tale that you can simply cease to read. You have covered your whole face over with a children’s book, forgetting who you truly are, and with its pages as your blinders, it is you yourself that turns away from seeing the light of the living day. Re-reading over and over…
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Intention
To be fully present. Here: Now. Only. Totally. Traceless of past. Desireless of future. Free of the present. To see through the uniqueness of our lives to the Oneness of Self in all. To pass through beyond self-identity with the uniqueness of our life’s form into the Oneness of Self in all, and return, with…
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Too unstable for enlightenment
The survival response to trauma keeps the mind intensely focused on the embodied emergency of the organism and the seemingly self-evident suffering of the personal self. Self-identity with the intensity of pain and strong emotion further pollutes the psychological self with a victim-self-consciousness that strengthens the disconnection and duality of subject/object that is itself the…
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Borobodur
There’s a temple here, hidden deep in the market place; where nothing is yours, nothing belongs to you. Buy nothing. Remain empty and undressed. Claim not even breath. Watch without shifting your weight into what you see. Very still. Be very very still, and the market place will vanish altogether, as you vanish into peace.
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Song of the Centipede
Something poisonous bit my cheek, by my ear, as I slept, rage at the pain filled my spirit with the venom of a heartless hate, as my consciousness expanded to hunt and destroy the hated thing that had done this. The opening window of my seeing locked on to its target, I saw her –…
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lost happiness
when you understand phenomenal experience doesn’t generate happiness – rather, that unconditional self fulfillment of the unlocated referencless self is itself the overflowing of happiness into the phenomenal in the the now – then, the inner psychological stories of lost happiness and dreams of future happiness become empty mirages. Undeluded be at peace.
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Yet unmet
oh my sweetheart, how could I explain, in a dream vision, I’ve seen in accelerated time Every pathway and every step, and every meeting of this life. so how can I explain I’ve looked forward to meeting you With aching heart and trembling lips and truly missed you even though we haven’t met yet.
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human love
In these human love songs, the wordless echo of a silent light. human hearts: orbs of light, and all these lives: countless, freefalling: luminous, rain drops. that in their descent, from unmanifest to manifest, catch and refract that holy light – and what we know on earth as love- is a rainbow glimpse from above.…
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CPTSD
Our mind’s are built for us, by the adult’s in our childhoods. Each interaction a response to our existence: shaping and defining our self-concept in the world. Linguistic interactions between cognitive selves, can be talked through and re-conditioned. But, prelinguistic input prior to a cognitive self, becomes neurological, physiological, epigenetic. I – the conscious self-…
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Limerence
Limerence is the fever dream of the broken-hearted child: that still lives inside you, still grieves inside you, yearning to be held: to be emotionally completed by that idealized mother, by that idealized other. That child’s stream of grieving, stream of yearning; stream of dreaming, pouring forth through the channels of your adult mind like…
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Learn Love
Love is the source of life. Love is the living well of movement, of self, of will, of action. Without love, life is just fading momentum without true propulsion the meaningless escape of residual heat without real fire: mechanical, violent, arbitrary. My loveless little heart can not nourish it’s own life force, let alone be…
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Truly seen
A toddler. Pre-personal. Innocent. Our eyes meet, they scan and tune into me, and in my body I feel vulnerable, and a jolt of terror of being fully seen, in all my emotional ugliness. Without layers to their person-hood, in meeting a toddler there is a simple intimacy: a fully open being directly experiencing you.…
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Victory
Victory is this: hand on heart, rejoicing “I love you all, and, I’m grateful for every one and everything” wearing every moment lived like the beads of a beaded necklace: the stellar corona of your unseen heart. singing your life as a devotional song filling the empty and silent with music: ever celebrating this infinite…
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Go Shuck Yourself
Shed this life loosely like a skin. Clutching on to nothing, simply slip out: Naked. Pulling things within, to try to fill your empty heart: making of this world your organs, guts, and form, means you will shatter along with the shell. Let go of this mere crust: hard and dead. Finer than the living…
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Weaned
“I am your father” “I am your mother” “I am your sister” “I am your friend” Every object and source of personal love, is a simple prism making visible, in it’s own colour, that unseen impersonal light. Every loving presence an embodiment of the One presence. Be weaned off personal love, and learn to digest…
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Ignore me.
Oh Awareness! Ignore me! You are not this person: You are not this I. Does this life story still entertain you? This closed loop whose end is predetermined? You who have reveled in open boundless mystery? Oh Awareness! Ignore me! You are not this person. You are not this I. Let go of me! Let…
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True Love Simply Fulfilled
I wish a heart’s prayer to you my love: grant me a taste of that heaven above, Please Beloved, turn within. I am always with you. ever within you. Here and now, I am with you,
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Futility of Self-Will
Fuck the beautiful mind. All its concieted eloquence. There are no right actions to be taken or prescribed. Whenever self-will manifests and moves, the shadow of the remaining fraction of unclaimed non-self moves against it as the force of drag. As with any fluid medium, consciousness can only move in and against itself. There is…
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Mind Baiting the Soul
Even in the fantasy mind offers as the fulfillment of all my personal desires – as a baited to hook to remain identified with thought and feed it energy – it uses the bait of fame, and total respect, admiration, and reception. But in the field of awareness, every daisy bows only to the sun,…
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You’re a child of Love
Somewhere inside, some wrong message, keeps repeating and, – mind-identified, – I keep listening: that I’m not worthy, that I don’t deserve better. cuz I am wrong, cuz I’m not divine and that’s the how and why: how I rationalize, all my past abuses were personally meant for me? (confusing the intensity of experience for…
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The Right to Exist
the right to exist, the unwanted child, must give to them self, or, live dyingly: bleeding out their own presence, from every scenario and situation, until paler and paler, their truth vanishes into whispering dust.