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I

We are adrift in sunshine and birdsong.

The green fields turning golden hay.

Grandchildren like chirping sparrows.

Fresh breeze from the hills.

Nothing to report,
Lost in time and space……

II

Basho by the pond.

Pausing,
He turns to listen:
The sound
Of one hand
Clapping.

(Some more words scribbled down from my diary. It’s been a busy summer. Just recently missed a great flurry of strong words. It’s so important to write when those times arise, as the fuel that fires the flow is soon consumed..)

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One moment here

One moment here,
Or here,
An instant’s presence,
Or, maybe, fever.

Not choosing,
Nor discarding,
An equipoise of breath.

This moment,
Or this,
Weighed,
Released.

A point,
(Time or space),
Within which to expand,
Relax.

A skill,
Or no skill,
To continue
Regardless.

Existence,
Or non-existence,
Tasting the same-
A sharp flow.

Words
Or no words,
Insignificant attainment
Of the one song.

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Solstice: words revolve a standing sun.

I

On Momentous Occassions.

Not to be missed.
A once-in-a-lifetime experience!
This breath.

II

The Pleasurable Joy of Insignificance.

A seed on the breeze
Safe floating
Away from reach.

So small
In the hands
Of the world.

So safe
Amongst the cloak
of stars.

So small
So safe
No threat.

Floating free
Insignificant joy
Sparkle of bliss.

III

Two weeks of rain.
Finally, the moon!
An embarrassed smile.

IV

Hemlock and mallow.
The dead revived,
Stretch thick green limbs.

Cat’s ear and wild privet.
The living exhale
To fuel the world.

Yarrow and blood poppy.
The skylark’s song:
Blue and vast.

The apple, the cherry,
Yet small and hard,
Dreaming of sweetness.

Elder, oh elder!
A circumference of passion,
Honey cream and pensive.

The thick warm air
Slow, turning.
The world wants not,
Waits not,
Curls and moves:
A sleeping cat.

V

When I look into your eyes,
Moon of Guru Purnima:
Silver ripples across my heart.

VI

Steady rain.
No moon tonight,
Except the disc
Upon which you dance,
Goddess of Wisdom.

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Fluid cool

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My mind is clouds
Shades of grey
Shades of light
Pellucid smoke
Moving to a breeze of birdsong
A dream of seafoam
A warmth
A honeyed breath.

Discard perfection
Disregard the starch ,
The po-faced judgement
Of those who weigh
Degrees of holiness,
Degrees of failure,

The world is
What the world is.
This river,
Not the water,
Not the valley,
Not the sound
Not the blackbird’s cool….

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Sunday Morning. No blue Sky. Some clouds reflect.

I

Haiku True Nature:
Not just a sentence broken
Into smaller lines.

II

Haiku takes a walk:
A garden path inviting
Unexpected view.

III

Tracing thought patterns:
The bright weave of consciousness
Belonging nowhere.

IV

Intellect, a fool:
Lost in a dream of stories,
Suddenly wakened!

——-

In my mail this morning a haiku post from fivereflections appeared as a single line of text ( as they always do). It set off a little line of thought. ( hmmph! ‘Taking a line for a walk’ Paul Klee…). Also fired by a lovely jewel of a piece by skyraftwanderer….

Punctuation, plurals, tenses,
line breaks –
all nuances difficult to translate.
The gestures of the ancient calligrapher:
an ink-blot attains sentience….

Wang Wei and me,
Gone fishing
For ephemeral beauty
Down by the slow river,
The boiling tea kettle
Forgotten…

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Transit of Venus

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TRANSIT OF VENUS
( the dead pass by
The living pass by).

On long, rainy days
As summer floods in,
If only we could remain
Silent and listening
Hands still, ears open.

Not desiring anything –
The water-drop’s song
The grey and green light.

Remaining breathing
No wishes, no impatience.

Then we would not miss
The transits of bliss,
The constant reverberation
Of the invisible,
The passage of time,
The dance of space
Between one breath
And the next.

I wrote this on the day of the Transit of Venus, an event much heralded by some, invisible here because of steady rain clouds. It follows a lunar eclipse, much heralded by some, invisible because of rain clouds. This, together with complaints about our traditional weather (rain in summer), drew my attention to the yearning for the calendrical, anniversarial (?), momentous, special, ” once in a lifetime”, events. What do we strain to see? What do we let slip by unnoticed? The value of the unseen…..

Blossoms of the Dakini.

“Aspiring to the levels of realisation and liberation
Means deviating from bodhi;
Aspiring to obtain happiness
Is the great suffering;
Aspiring to attain the state beyond thought
Is another thought.
If you understand this,
Seek no further.”

(Princess Gomadevi)

————–

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I neither believe
Nor disbelieve
The thoughts that arise in me.

They are a mellifluous river,
A breeze in a high place;
Sounds and sensations
That arise and disperse,
Flowers that open and fade,
Stars revealed and obscured by cloud.

I move, the road stays still.
I stay still, the road moves on.

Following the paths of my ancestors
I return to their dwelling place.

Following my own path
I become lost in dream.

Staying still,
I listen to the forest;
Sun and moon dance before me.
The road disappears,
The need disappears.

One feather, one petal
Comes to rest.
Movement dissolves.

Resonance.

————–

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Flakes of falling flame, fragments, figments….

I

I shall walk in the cool green morning
A roof of grey light and white horizons
Amongst the skylark’s and the blackbird’s song
Unfettered, unrequired, unopposed, unnoticed.
The deep throb of honey bees,
The pointed tang of balsam poplar,
Each blade of grass, a cloak of life.
Silent moist, echoing air
Vaporous bliss,
Honey-tongued May.

II

My mind-
clouds.
Slow shifting greys,
Pearlescent light.

My tongue-
A flame of green leaf
Tasting filtered sunlight.

My heart-
Ullulating balm,
The blackbird’s river.

Perfect
Imperfect-
As it is.

III

Always though,

The night of pain,
Biting, back-brain
Sting of writhing pain.

Somewhere though,

The acid smell of cordite,
The skin prickle of rage,
The leaden drunkenness of hatred.

And somewhere,

Proud innocents,
We offer
A gift for Krishna,
A gift for Allah –
A scattering of plutonium:

Our gift
To the Universe.

IV

The Old Man,
Rocking from side to side
On his ox cart,
Leaves from the Western Gate.

This time,
No-one notices……

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Thoughts from the Earth: Reality is approximate.

I was thinking about some friends who were going through difficult times, and thinking also of the pressures of the modern, rational worldview on other more traditional ways of seeing things.
A great, possibly the best, way to stabilise emotions and strengthen personal energies is to make a conscious connection to the planet. Simply feel a flow of energy from the base of the spine, the whole of the pelvis, down towards the centre of the Earth. When I do this in a quiet, receptive state often concepts and ideas clarify ( or at least, emerge), in my mind.

The following words arose and contain some interesting ideas…

What we consider ‘reality’ is what we are focused upon – what we consider important to us.

It is a lens that brings into focus what we choose to make central to our experience.

Everything else becomes unfocused or invisible. It may still be there, but we can no longer see it, no longer experience it.

We do not “make” our “own reality”.
Reality has no substance.
Reality may be what ‘is’.
But we cannot know what it ‘is’ when we are focused in a particular way.
Seeing a bigger aspect of “reality” then, is not about our focus but about how we can relax our focus.
It is not about finding what is important to us, but relaxing into the experience of whatever we are experiencing.
What we chose to consider important or real, the view of reality we take, is significant for our emotional stance, but not necessarily any more useful than any other stance in terms of achieving freedom from limitations.

However, one focus is no more valid than another.
If one dominant world-view is heavy on our lives, choose another view that is less oppressive – but do not mistake that one is ‘right’ and the other ‘wrong’.
It’s just switching channels: you are still being mesmerized by something that has no intrinsic holistic experience..

Reality is approximate….

( ” Reality is approximate:
What you believe is true
Only holds from a limited viewpoint.
From every other place, it is untrue.”

” What you think
Is not what you are,
But what you think
Holds you in its patterns.” )

quotes from “A Guide to the Power Plant Spirit Cards”. Simon H Lilly 2006

“everything is possible” is not saying the same thing as ” everything is easy”.

Acting in accord with the energy of the world requires letting go, relaxation, acquiescence, flowing with the energies manifesting – but not fighting or giving up; giving up but not relinquishing; relinquishing but not dissolving; dissolving but not dissappearing; dissappearing but not falling asleep…

Becoming the world – becoming smaller and becoming greater….

Whatever language we use the words that represent an object can never make the object, never be the object.
The words can echo some qualities of the object, but not the tangible experience of the object. The same is with reality.
However we choose to describe reality, in whatever terminology, in whatever storytelling way, it is never the same as, or equivalent to, the reality itself.
Thought, logic, language can never experience or define what is real in any complete way.

Open sudden clarity is the only door to melt and unfold the Real….

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Maybe The Moon


Round

resounding

visible or not

night time or day light

the silver

shimmering

gong

of the moon.

Anahata.

Throb and thring
of the unstuck.

Tongue cleaves
to silence.

Inner doors
open outwards.

Drinking the revolution
of the planets,
the resonance
of Time.

Visit the interior of the Earth:
there shall you discover
the Stone of the Philosophers,
the moon of your deserted dream,
the sun of the golden day,
the river that whispers with the voices
of all possible gods….