A Sermon on the Magical Event Horizon

Nothing is ever known. What we think we know is variations on a theme of light. It’s the hydrologic cycle at its subatomic core made manifest as if it’s matter. 

Matter doesn’t really matter though, although it is the stuff of dreams. And dreams are useful in their tendency to point to truth that light of day will never see. 

Beyond our sun is that black hole to which astronomers have said each sun appears to fundamentally become—and sages say from which it never disappeared. 

That said, one is that which. This is its spell. Abracadabra, hocus-pocus, shazam and presto-chango! But a wise magician keeps in mind one’s not at any point the trick. 

Meditating Words

It’s winter and the river is reflecting nothing. 

It’s not the words which say it wrong 

but our insistence on translating them. 

Have you ever noticed that it’s always cloudy 

when you’re living while it’s January? 

Begin this sentence with a noun instead. 

The antichrist is driving off the bridge again. 

Working in the relative, we rest within the absolute. 

In wintertime, telecommuting is like 

a slow waltz from amazingly nowhere. 

If you haven’t learned to shoot a word, 

you shouldn’t read or write them. 

Silence doesn’t kill but the cold will do. 

Quick Start Guide for the Heart of Poetry

To craft an authentic poem, 

first rest in silent inspiration. 

Let me quickly clarify: 

if intuition is defined 

as universal consciousness 

whispering to divided mind, 

then inspiration is reflection 

of awareness sagaciously 

informing that holistic being. 

Now begin to write, or rather, 

write what one is being told. 

When all appears complete, 

perform an end inspection 

and remove whatever time slipped in. 

Revelations in the Surf

On Plum Island, on its uninhabited beach 

at the Parker River Wildlife Refuge, 

I walk an abiding way along the shore 

while gazing at substantial waves arising 

from an outwardly serene Atlantic Ocean. 

They form a never-ending line of succession 

as ray upon ray ignite in flame and seafoam. 

I stop where weather-beaten sands had shifted 

fashioning a sandy cape from where I watch 

the waves both to my left and there before me. 

Witnessing the row of waves in profile, 

I feel as one arising with them, 

seeing myself as curl in an evolutionary crest 

as that enlightening crash dissolves 

the wave of all the universe—

we then return to sea. 

Footnotes to an Ad Hoc Prayer

The way of silence is personal devotion to an absolute 

but the way of light is surrendering to the absolute’s intent. 

Enlightening intent to know itself comes into being. 

Universal being is evolving in complexities of mind. 

Deconstructing mind is seeing through its own complexities—

to be the silent seeing intent on seeing itself. 

Nothing in this process is unnecessary. 

Everything is moving at the speed of that enlightenment. 

Relatively speaking, the meaning of life is to know I Am That, 

although absolutely speaking, there is no meaning—

but the absolute is never absolutely speaking.

Ad Hoc Prayer

in a way of speaking, 

the meaning of life is 

helping god know itself—

by seeing through 

one’s conceptual illusions 

as, by, of a person 

and simply be…

thus seeing sees 

it is seeing 

itself, 

god, 

that

in the name of 

pure awareness, 

enlightening intent, 

universal being, 

and deconstructing mind—

I Am That

Winter Follies

They were standing on the viewing platform 

with their focal acquisitions, long 

zoom cameras, spotting scopes, and carbon fiber 

tripods, looking for another bird 

to acquisition for their memories, while 

consulting with each other on the technical 

specs of their recently-acquired equipment, 

divulging stories of the special sightings 

they remembered like a snowy owl 

consuming innards of a meadow vole 

as twenty birders grabbed exclusive pictures. 

Their chatter was annoying me as I 

looked out upon a spacious empty winter 

marshland. What about my own attempt 

to acquisition all that precious silence?

The Big Wave

Universal consciousness 

is like the sea and body-mind 

is like a wave and pure awareness 

is the sun reflecting in 

these waters after its intent 

to know itself unfolded into 

being as the sea evolving 

into wave upon wave upon wave 

until a single one of most 

particular complexity 

like Hokusai’s 'Great Wave' could see 

the sea and its reflection of 

itself, that precipice of sun, 

the one with no beginning and no end…

Samāpatti Rocket Mechanism of Myself

Sitting silently while looking out the window, 

it came to me the trees were just extensions of my body 

and in time this intuition had extended to the stars, 

including ones one only sees through Hubble’s eye. 

Resting silent as this universe, 

I looked within and saw an energetic fire 

and knew this inspiration filling me 

and trees and all the universe is what I really am. 

Existent, suddenly I saw I wasn’t in that space—

my divination says I am that space 

and all this matter of an energetic knowingness 

is actually within my silent seeing. 

Now a flash of revelation shows 

that even silent seeing space is just reflecting 

my unknowable and infinite awareness.

The Waking Giant

I rest my feet 

upon the coffee table 

and superclusters 

untold years away 

support their weight. 

I scratch behind 

the ears of Pluto 

and Andromeda 

wags its tail. 

I place my arm 

around a maple tree 

whispering 

she’s a lovely 

friend and universe. 

Awakening, 

I rubbed my eyes 

this morning; stars 

emerged to clear 

an age of sleeping.