Sans Everything

As the unknown knows

the unknown,

there is a knowing.

This knowledge is called being—

I am.

As the knowing

doesn't know—

this is called the world.

And as the unknowing knowing

suddenly knows,

all’s the unknown…

The Pendulum Swings from 0 to i

1.

The world begins

when one believes in two.

The world will end

when one sees through this two

to no particular point of view.

2.

Survival is the name

of the evolutionary game.

But being unborn

is the crown of creation.

sumsara

all of this

is but

the sweet nothing

whispered by

that

i am

that says—i am

but don't be mistaking

my word for

my self

yet every summer

the word of spring

begins to eat itself

still

the world is only my word

being is my voice—

I am the silence

Catawba Aura Sky

Following the Black Mountains of North Carolina on the Blue Ridge Parkway,

there’s a place they call Craggy Gardens where Catawba Rhododendron bloom in June at 6000 feet above sea level.

The colors lilac-purple to magenta reddens the rugged landscape.

From out of the deep eastern valley arises this universe of phenomenal irregularity in tone and occultation.

And from out of this arises the silent watchful flowers of indigenous and everlasting Issa

saying unto all—no one comes to the source but by this peak.

Summer Paraverse for Ma

Van Morrison sings about the youth of ten-thousand summers. This is what my mother felt within herself despite her 92nd year. I know this to be true because I asked her, and I asked her because I know this to be true.

She would tell whomever were to listen never to grow old. By this she meant the physical decline that happens to the body. But inside she knew the spirit of mid-June.

I could never speak to her about some nondual truth of universal being or absolute awareness, and so I’d just remind her of that inner self when she would talk to me about her growing old.

And she knew it for a fact because it is, in fact, the only knowledge that there is. When she was 93 her body died, but that youth of every summer still remains undying and unborn.

Myth and Manifestation. Being and Awareness.

I Am!

The evolutionary self-reflexive

universe of space-time is

the story of the light

knowing it’s the light.

That.

The light is

the dark source

knowing it’s the dark source.

An Alien Explains Its Poetry

My words will never tell the truth but only point the way. Because these words are not concerned with some belief but experience itself, such words appear to people of the earth as esoteric.

That said, Universal Consciousness is King, Queen, the only knowledge, everything. It does not rise from some material world of body and its brain. Such a scientific materialistic theory has not been proved and never will be.

Instead, one knows the world arises from this Consciousness and truly understanding this in a nonconceptual and experiential way is called Nirvana, the Kingdom of Heaven, or just As It Is.

Sometimes you know this truth and sometimes you think you don’t.

june tantra

look

the animal

shapes

of things

so long

division was

an ancestral distilling

pure affectionate awareness

keep coupling your core

wholly connected

to intentional

desire

The Political Brain

poem: As the reptilian brain revolts against the new limbic order, Neo holds up a lotus. Smile!

commentary: A peculiar political analysis of 2016 using the three sections of the brain: the reptilian survivalist forces of trumposaurus revolting against the new world politically correct (versus religiously correct) judgmental order of the limbic mind advancing ALL civil rights while creating a new humanist 1% oligarchy, while the nondual buddha of the neo-cortex sees through the matrix and holds up the silent flower of wisdom and beauty. Mahakasyapa can only smile.

Ursa Parkway

In the morning of the third day on the great blue ridge, we saw a bear.

It was slowly crossing from the dark side of the road to sunshine,

like memory giving way to now. I stopped the car to take a picture.

When I started it again, the bear observed the sound and saw whatever

cars appear to be to it, and spun around and slowly galloped, bounded,

skipped away, whatever word describes that certain movement of a bear,

its arms when standing now becoming legs—then stopped and turned

as if to say so follow me already. All this happened in a few fast seconds.

Then it crossed and watched us pass from shelter of a roadside thicket.

Thoughts cannot describe experience, its eyes were shining back at us,

but words can tell us pay attention to the splendid serendipity of the way.