Tag Archives: consciousness

|T͟His| |kəˈlīdəˌskōp| |mīnd|

kaleidoscope – ORIGIN early 19th cent.: from Greek kalos ‘beautiful’ + eidos ‘form’ + skopein ‘look at.’

 

Liken to say, this mind is none other than a kaleidoscope perfection

Yet we are smitten as we hold it in our hands, forgotten the play,

The game of it and perhaps become lost in the grip, such that hardly

Can we imagine it as apparatus and instead have taken it –mistaken its

Images, patterns, colors, forms, fragments –appearing oh so beautiful–

 

As ourselves. Yes, we are Beauty, we are Awareness. We appear as form,

Yes. These fragments are ever changing, the mirrors and advantage of

Perception affords great visage; what is it that holds on often desperately

Within some fleetingly grasped image and makes that a home, a dwelling

Of such import? It is more of a cataclysmic order than actually discerned.

 

We have our reminders, however quickly we cast them aside, not even

Momentarily pausing within the recognition of this vast and luminous

Undisturbed emptiness –the very emanation of Beauty we are. Beauty,

Formless as breath, sure as spirit, belongs to no one thing, and seems

To hover in the midst of these objects that we think, we spin into existence

 

Borrowing the least palpable matter for that split second alighting upon.

What is it that compels the grab, hovering as mistake, again and again?

What is it that seems so lacking that we persistently gather at its feet as if

It actually exists separate from us? Are we not twisting something out of

Existence that we have made up, an impostor of the grandest order?

 

What is it that you are playing at? Just in this moment, see it plainly.

You, author, conductor, composer, director, is it feast, famine, crusade,

Epic, adventure? What aspects of life have the spotlight? Is it thought itself?

Is it death? Is it physical suffering or perhaps, elation? Is it powerlessness,

Betrayal of everything you/we are? Does creative spirit take the bow here?

 

And as quickly as the kaleidoscope turns, so do the images, appearances,

Along with the notions of who and what we are somehow separate from

Everything else in existence. Pause, take the apparatus in hand, look and

See that which is looking, holding the focus –not to denigrate or disparage.

Celebrate the kaleidoscopic perfection and rest, rest easy, rest as Awareness.

 

Absolutely all and everything is on your calling card, any order, any dance

Partner is available and already dancing with you. How magnificent the

10,000 things! Any one thing is all of these combined without any fixed

Combinations, nothing locked into place. Simply fathom this myriad! Play.

And breathe beyond recognition, simply experiencing What Is. Carry on.

 

San Cristobal, NM

28 February 2015

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Praise to Thickets Amongst Us

IMG_0478

Thicket along the watercourse; San Cristobal, NM

Down by the thickets of willows making their place where waters sometimes run (as a trickle or more.) This wayside is where the heart has its home, the air naturally cooling in this weave on a very hot day.

I’ve been here “on the property” for a little over two weeks but clearly haven’t arrived until now. This is my first day here in the grasses, on their way to tall, the filtered light in nuances more than I can count, the old bowing willow branches remind me of the ever present inspiration to the eye of an artist, perhaps the other way around. To draw this place or just to be and see and be touched by this wild order? The kind of beauty that can go so easily unnoticed, much less the amazing feat of interspecies communing, even those without voices, but textures, color, integrity take me over. The air is not the only element that is renewed here.

I want to say “on the other hand…” as I contemplate the contrast of the places that have been denuded (a stone’s throw from here) or stripped of their natural dignity by the use or appropriation for something we call “living our lives.” What I love about this wilder place by the draw behind the house is that life is already living here fully and I simply join in. This grand beingness of it all!

It’s not that this place is any better than someplace else, it’s just that it is THIS place and can be no other place! And how so very different it feels here than just fifty or a hundred yards away. What a gift this place speaks of my own nature, which sometimes seems much less human than just Being alive, sentience itself, able to be touched, penetrated by the exquisite weave of interpenetrating life, of consciousness. The magpies have their squawk and the mourning doves their cooing calls. The breeze, now at my back, stirs the green life alive into motion and sound. Is it the motion of things that we hear or is it something just a bit more illusive than that?

This up close visitation to the green of the thicket next to the seeping wallow brings me right to the taste of my own heart. They are not like the wider vistas of mountains in the distance with fields of sagebrush laying out before them, not like the open, open skies with all matter of clouds and blue in their ever-changing atmosphere-scape. Here things crowd in without any feeling of density or overbearingness. Here is intimacy, did I say that already, of brush and bower, of grass and twig, of every kind of insect and butterfly with the light ever shifting amongst it all. I become part of a nourishment cycle; bathing in spirit of thicket and this very place.

iNotice

Incoming

I notice there are things
that
people
tend to notice

There is what I notice
almost
too subtle
to take note

Is there something we notice
possibly
other than
what seems to be

Departure

Walking
everything stays in one place
eyes toes nose
back hand

Notice(?)

How you don’t leave
anything
behind
everything comes with

When orientation is fixed
things return to
the same
the same

Again and again

How often do I agree
even in writing
gross holds
over subtle

Otherwise

Flame light of fire
Musical tonality
Aspiration
Synergy

 

 

All Wonder As This

All and many I meet myself

the prairie dogs out in the sun

the cat making its loud request

even the band members three

the silent one at work avoiding

the one who touches in asking

Each meeting and non-meeting

escalates the palpability of I-Thou

truly lightly firmly sometimes

fascination igniting conscience

tussle and pull forward backward

separateness stands to be shorn

Like the sheep giving it all over

for some other purpose than

their own, I now wearing some-

thing of the other as my cover,

this is how things get interesting

parsing apportioning we tempt

The unfortunate fate of old, worn

housings that which dances past

and through awkward dreams

unfettered and lost in designated

zones where no key or lock can

keep or much less open or close

Fancy that! How many times so

far have you walked onto That

stage, the one where most divine

counsel awaits ready to invite you

to burn As Yourself and No Other

resistance melting with that ace

As the curtain rises –an exposé

like no other upstages what once

was Now Seen Heard Spoken as

effulgence in the making unplugged

freeing the intermediaries of the toil

of battening down the misbegotten

I-Thou No Other

All Wonder As This

I-Thou As Other

All Wonder As This

I-Thou Be Loved

All Wonder As This

Everything and Empty

Empty like many things

cannot be named

empty is a verb

but doesn’t happen

empty’s not a doing

empty is what we

consist of more

than anything else

life living itself

We seem to have

a universe empty

empty full empty

Is light empty?

Is house empty?

All things are full

of themselves

even Space is

full of itself

Is this because

they are also

Empty?

Housing themselves?

Do we call something

Empty when we

cannot otherwise

perceive its thus-ness?

Perception itself

is empty / capacity

to receive

As I touch in

em

pt

yi

ng

when

how

with what

where

does

some

thing

be

come

emp

ty

?