You stretch your wings across the face of the Earth… everything is motionless before you. You glide by; you are the difference between day and night… you are Shadow.

You watch The People grow gaunt and weary; you make whole villages so thin and dry that even the ground beneath them cracks, and the rain refuses to visit. You are the reason their caricatures are the rock formations in the canyons… you are Want.

You easily and constantly cover the land; there is always something new. You permeate the oceans, but there is less to do here. You’ve been everywhere at least once, though some say there are places you’ve forgotten; these are places which you simply did not wish to see often… You are Time.

Your reach is immense; your domain is the outermost to the innermost places… in some you are cold, but in others your fire is unsurpassed. If you stretch your arms as far as you can, your fingertips will touch. You are the massless expanse of the invisible plasma that binds all things… You are Space.

The Zen of Babies

They are comfortable most of the time with the fact that they are subject to powers beyond their control or understanding.

But occasionally an outburst of personal liberation can go far.

CIRCLE

What does the rock say, slipping down the slope, bouncing off the back of a ravenous rodent, searching for sustenance? “I didn’t mean to hurt you, I didn’t mean to make you cry, These things happen in the by-and-by.”

What does the origine say to the spirit of the springbok, when death follows the dart, and with hands toward heaven? “I didn’t mean to hurt you, I didn’t mean to make you cry, These things happen in the by-and-by.”

What does the Creator say to the hordes of hominids, and acres of animals, suffering from sins, depressed to death; oppressed to oblivion; hunted into history; souls spiraling south? “I didn’t mean to hurt you, I didn’t mean to make you cry, These things happen in the by-and-by.”

BLESSING

You are beautiful.

The Gods made you beautiful.

Your ancestors prayed that you would be beautiful.

Your parents joined so that you would be beautiful.

and you… are… beautiful.

TOYS

It puzzled me as I passed by the toys in the yard at the daycare, why

Not only many, but all — the toys were machines, only small

Dumptrucks, firetrucks, busses and cars, even mini-traffic jams, just like ours…

What are we silently screaming by valuing just what is gleaming?

I thought our dream was that they would go far, to be all they could be —

and not where we are

Necessity may be the mother of invention, but laziness is the father of it.

At breakfast I learned many things. I squished my muffin trying to butter it; then as I went to put jam on it, a glob made its way down the jar and I didn’t get to it before it reached the counter. Finally, I dropped my knife on the floor.

I learned if you don’t hold onto something tight enough, it can slip through your fingers. If you hold onto it too tightly, you could change its shape into something unrecognizable. Lastly, if you can, seize an opportunity when it presents itself.

My Angel Was a Seagull

My angel was a seagull, should have known it all along —

No wonder the ties that bound me to the ocean were so strong.

My angel was a seagull, let me tell you how I know —

They gave me my cognitivity, and will take it when I go.

The day my mind was born, I watched the sun rise on the shore —

A gull swooped down beside me, from then on I slept no more.

I spent every moment conscious, taking everything in —

The sea would send me ’round the world, and bring me back again.

I learned to value cycles, I learned to wax and wane

I learned of blessings, and of sin, and determination over pain.

I learned though love is infinite, it asks for sacrifice;

Pounds of flesh gone ’til nothing left, not sure it was a fair price.

Through trials and celebrations, at times when nothing would sustain me,

I’d find my spirit, my soul, my cure, when I returned to the sea.

And so once again I found myself watching the setting sun,

With seagulls all around me, but especially this one;

He walked right up beside me, I’d seen him several times —

And then I knew his purpose, and looked to him for mine.

Alas, my day was over, and when all rays of sun were gone,

My angel unfolded his silvery wings, and softly flew me home.

The Hand

A great cosmic hand scoops a handful of sand on cosmic bended knee

While on the shore to cast once more an incarnation into the sea.

One grain says to another, “Weren’t you my brother, a time or two, maybe more?”

Said the other grain, “It’s true, I recognize you, we’ve seen each other before.”

The first grain said, “That’s right! Would you believe that I might have been ’round a few dozen times!”

“You don’t say,” said the second, and while smiling, beckoned, “Do tell of your journeys to the brine!”

How the first grain did explain, and regale the memories of times past!

The second grain heard — no, hung on — every word, until the first finished at last.

“So how about you, been here a time or two? You haven’t said a thing.

You’ve been listening all the while, sitting there with your smile, do you find any of this interesting?”

The second grain just nodded as this little being prodded, and finally said, “Friend – know this:

A thousand times must we be cast into the sea, then comes our metamorphosis.

Then a thousand times three do we cast sand in the sea, until we change again.”

The first grain scoffed — “Whoa! How can you possibly know?” as they sailed through the salty wind.

Said the second, “That time or two — that’s when I carried you, don’t you understand?

I’ve come back once more to be a grain on the shore — you see, I used to be the hand.”

from the singular, small, triumphant voice of an idea being born

to the joyful cacophony of a thousand thoughts taking flight

from the harmony of the desert rocks

to the silence inside the river’s voice

I am always there, between moments

there is a nothingness that is everything

can you hear the sun shining?

Sunset Fable

Once there was a gathering in the Forest that drew many People. They built a fire, sang, danced, played music, and ate lots of food. Even the Sun heard about this great event, and joined the festivities. The Ocean also heard about it, but could not attend, lest it put out the great fire that kept everyone warm, and cooked the food. It became sad, and turned blue. The Sun, however, was having such a great time, it decided to carry the party around the world. Because the trees were rooted, they could not follow, and the Forest turned green with envy. You can still see the glow of the gathering to this day, every evening, to the west…

When we are young, we sing songs that teach us about our body parts – their names and perhaps how they can be used.

When we are grown, we do not sing these songs. Having used our parts many times, we no longer need to remind ourselves of them.

In this way, when one awakens and first becomes aware of the Tao, one studies it, meditates on it, and even sings of it — until it becomes as integrated as any other part.

More still, as we grow in it, it becomes such a part of one’s being, we realize WE are really a part of IT. At this point, it becomes no longer necessary to close one’s eyes, bow one’s head, or pray aloud, as though these intentions are somehow different and separate from any other bodily movements, or mind’s thoughts.

Would my hand, or my eye, or my knee need to chant prayers to express their needs to me? Do I not already know, and tend to them as I can?

How can I pray to something when I am inside of it?

Everyone, throughout their life, has to deal with baggage.

The successful ones have just learned how to pack better.

The transcendent ones have learned how to leave it behind.

The enlightened ones have learned that the baggage is just an illusion.