This is Called Nine Names

Mistaking the current definition of a word for its usage in another spacetime rendering is another way of getting lost in translation. Definitions also transform. Obviously.


A wave becomes a frog becomes a wolf becomes an owl becomes a stormy Monday.

Yesterday is false. Tomorrow is a fantasy. Today is just the smoke of potentiality.

Note the two unstressed syllables in 'smoke of potentiality.' For prior to that, it's all iambic. Form is emptiness and emptiness is form.


A broken arrow once meant peace but now means accidental nuclear detonation. Thus all definitions pass.

Light of being is filtered by belief—or transformation frozen in the memory of mind—i.e. attachment—becoming an emotion—i.e. moving action.

This lack of self-awareness is an evolutionary step between the active known inanimate and non-doing of the great unknown.


Dragons only breathe out fire. Sages breathe it in. This is Tao of Thrones. Revisited.

It's not the nothing of atheism nor the something of religion, but this being that unknown which knocks me out in out in out in...

Suspending disbelief is practice for the seeing through belief as comedy is deconstruction. The popular is smoke. Esoteric is the fire.


I’d begin at the beginning, but there’s no beginning.

Instead, let me begin now.

By the way, every change in meter is a change in voice.


Remember, for every metaphor, there’s a vehicle and tenor.

In every Travis Bickle, there’s a Luciano Pavarotti.

Singing the song of self-awareness. Walt Whitman style or Emily Dickinson.


The grass reflects time. The recluse reflects space. The mirror is always Brahma, Vishnu, Shiva.

This is almost the end of the preface.

Now begins the apocalypse of Son Rivers.


John Lennon said war is over if you want it. This is dedicated to that spirit.

The world is what you think, believe, it is. So war is over when you think it is.

This is called Learning to Eat an Apple.


Remember death is just a concept and being is the only truth one knows.

This is called Utilizing Memory Efficiently.

It also makes an acronym.


Irony aside. Dying is easy. Deconstruction is hard.

This is called Primal Sutra.

Knowing when to stop deconstruction is not knowable. This is called Grace, Faith, or Trust. Depending what you call your self.


Dreaming lucidly is creating your own mythology. This experience is called Naming the Nameless.

In the Name of Only I Make Mountains Move.

That fine line between deconstruction and being that unknown is called Spontaneity or Sudden.


Only something knows how to believe in nothing. This is called Last House on the Left.

The world is either mirror or mystery. Clarity or mist. Subject or object. I or me. This is called It Is What It Is.

This is called This Is Called.


Number Nine

Signs of the Revelation

At Dunkin Donuts,

I was saying to a friend

I finally accepted what I am

within this dream of nature.

I'm a songbird

and songbirds sing.

Later, driving home,

listening to Open Source

on public radio,

I heard an interview

with John Luther Adams,

not John Coolidge Adams,

who is saying birdsong is

his primal inspiration.

Synchronicity is music

of this universal consciousness

and that goes deeper

than primordial baptism.

Such a sign is confirmation

I am singing what I am.

The Self-Awareness Game

Practice paying mindful attention. Dream lucidly and creatively. Only self-awareness shall spontaneously evolve!

This is the self-awareness game: dreaming what the world shall be. And it is written that shall is such a timeless word.

Now is the time for some beauty. Imagine spring. The daffodils bow to the winter and then. They say nothing gold can stay. But quicksilver shall.

I was raised in the church of fear and loathing. Only thought is deconstructed. Being is immortal space.

To take things personally is the original misdeed of universal consciousness appearing localized. Being is where potentiality is.

We were conditioned to be mountains. And then you saw the mountain is conditioned. I am the mountain. I am the sky.

Belief is magic. Desire is enchantment. I am in the world. My prayer: may they all see that I am not what we believed us to be.

Like kissing every thought before it becomes belief. Like balancing deep sleep and the ordinary mystic. Self-awareness! What else is there?

Alone and Drinking Under a New Moon

Lately a week feels like seven days.

And April has a tendency to freeze frame.

So I wouldn't say this is enlightenment

but I've deconstructed so much bullshit

I can see it in another almost instantly.

This makes it difficult for new relationships

and all the old ones have gone South

to die or be with loving grandchildren.

I like the Chinese poets and their way with wine.

I choose a stout instead seeking moderation

only because I value benefits of deep sleep.

This is where the poem will take a turn.

The absolute unknown is what I am

and every night I like to circle back

to pure awareness, black as Tao,

completely lost to memory or moon.

This is why Li Po jumped in the pond.

Tao. The Poem. Verse 28 to 36.

28.

Know splendor—

abide in obscurity—

return to the natural.

When something uncut

is split, it is used.

But a sage is unhewn and divides nothing.

29.

One can’t improve

the world—

it’s perfect spirit.

One’s hot—then cold.

Strong—weak.

On—off.

So a sage avoids indulgence in extremes.

30.

As armies occupy,

thorns arise.

The adept are resolute,

but never favor force—

for things gone overgrown decay.

That isn’t the Way.

31.

Weapons are tools of misfortune—

the sage avoids them.

When many are killed—

clearly mourn them.

But even in a victory—

observe it with a funeral.

32.

Tao is ever nameless—

none command it.

Rain falls without an order.

Make rules—

names rise—

stop!

Tao in use is like a river flowing to the sea.

  

33.

To know others—

wise.

To know self—

enlightened.

To overcome others—

strong.

To overcome self—

all-powerful.

To not be lost in status—

enduring.

To die yet not die—

immortal.

34.

Tao

floods all directions.

All rely on it for being

yet it claims no name.

Thus a sage not acting for oneself

accomplishes greatness.

35.

Whoever follows the Great Image

enjoys peace.

Song and cake entice the passersby

to stop.

But the Way is tasteless—

never seen, heard, or exhausted.

36.

To weaken—first brace.

To take—give.

This is Dark Light.

Soft breaks hard.

Fish aren’t caught in depths.

A nation’s weapon is its peaceful villages.

Tao. The Poem. Verse 19 to 27.

19.

Abandon knowledge, morality, and profit—

people will thrive.

Yet one more item is crucial:

hold to the unhewn—

self erodes, desires fade.

 

20.

What’s the difference between good and bad?

People conform—they’re all so full!

I’m homeless and useless with the mind of a fool.

I nurture on the Mother.

21.

Tao alone is truth.

Formless—it holds an image.

Indistinct—it shelters fact.

Hidden—it embraces essence.

How do I know? It tells me.

22.

Yield—

and be whole.

As hollow—

so filled.

Thus the sage embraces unity.

Not self-absorbed—

self-evident.

Not empty talk—

the way to the whole.

23.

Speak sparingly as nature—

wind and rain doesn’t storm all day.

To follow Tao is to be Tao.

In gain be gain, in loss, loss.

In Tao trust.

24.

On tiptoes, one can’t stand.

Showing off, one doesn’t shine.

For one on the Way, it’s called

excess food and a tiring pace.

Never indulge.

25.

Before all—

there was something silent,

empty.

Name?

Call it Tao.

Humans follow earth

follows heaven

follows Tao.

Tao follows itself.

26.

Firm—root of light.

Still—lord of the wilderness.

Sages walk with resources near—

calm amid lookouts.

Lightly—lose footing.

Wildly—lose direction.

27.

Perfect action is not undone.

Students are enshrouded light.

Teachers employ that fact

or lack all resources—

simply confusion!

So a sage sees subtly

 

Tao. The Poem. Verse 13 to 18.

13.

Honor and shame

bind us to judgment—

suffering is bound

to our own pretense.

But seeing all as oneself—

one is free to be here for all.

14.

Not seen, heard, nor felt—

one.

Rising, not light.

Falling, not dark.

Formless form.

Hold the Ancient Way

to journey here and now.

   

15.

Ancients were so unfathomable,

we only picture their appearance—

to be so murky as to settle into clarity,

so still to stir to life.

16.

Empty and resonate

in silence—

see all rise and return

to the root.

Not knowing is all-suffering

but knowing the way loses all

to be always.

17.

Best is nearly never known.

Next best is loved.

Then, feared—

the worst is scorned.

But words never do—

it appears

to happen

spontaneously.

18.

When the Way is forsaken—

responsibilities rise.

As knowledge ripens—

duplicity appears.

Then all becomes chaos—

blind faith persists.

Tao. The Poem. Verse 10 to 12.

10.

Can you rest

in the seam of opposites?

See Spirit and Instinct

as One?

Give birth

without claiming,

raise

without ruling?

This deepest power. 

11.

Shape clay into a cup—

from emptiness forms function.

As it is in a dwelling.

In being arises increase,

but in non-being rests value.

12.

Overkill deadens the senses;

wild pursuits enrage the mind;

treasure loses the way.

So a sage

observes insight

and overlooks eyesight.

Tao. The Poem. Verse 7 to 9.

7.

The world abides—

for it doesn’t exist for itself.

So by yielding the body—

one is present.

And being free of self—

one is fulfilled.

8.

As truth,

like water,

one helps all

and vies with none,

lives low—

as Tao.

All holds the truth—

by not resisting,

one is free

from illusion.

9.

A cup filled to the brim will spill.

Acts done in excess produce the opposite.

When work is complete, the self retreats—

Nature’s Way.

Tao. The Poem. Verse 4 to 6.

4.

Tao is 

bottomless

emptiness—

seeming source

of all things. 

Harmonizing,

it perhaps exists. 

Yet its birth is unknown—

image older than God.

5.

The cosmos isn’t humane

nor is the sage—

all beings are sacrificial.

The universe will always make more.

Thus abide in the silent center.

6.

The valley spirit never dies—

call it the feminine

mystery.

Its gate is the root of the cosmos.

Ethereal—

but in use

inexhaustible.