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  • Running in Circles to Nowhere

    goethe,thomas traherne,black elk,peter de vries,infinite space,the moment

    This moment exhibits infinite space, but there is a space also wherein all moments are infinitely exhibited, and the everlasting duration of infinite space is another region and room of joys. Thomas Traherne

    “If you want to stride into the Infinite, move but within the Finite in all directions.” – Goethe

    The power of the world always works in circles, the sky is round, and I have heard the earth is round like a ball, and so are all the stars. The wind in its greatest power, whirls. Birds make their nests in circles, for theirs is the same religion as ours. The sun comes forth and goes down in a circle, the moon does the same. And both always come back to where they were. The life of man is a circle from childhood to childhood. And so it is in everything where power moves.” – Black Elk

    Anyone informed that the universe is expanding and contracting in pulsations of eighty billion years has a right to ask, “What’s in it for me?” – Peter De Vries

    We are busy, busy, busy. The mind is constantly engaged in inner dialogue – constantly chewing on the future or rehashing the past. So much time is spent in this manner that we are rarely in the moment.

    Most people consider being in the moment as an extension of the thinking process. Thinking can occur in the moment, but the experience of the thinking process while in the moment is like comparing an old hand-crank adding machine to today’s flash drives. One is a mental cranking with gears and cog-wheels turning. The other contains no moving parts.

    The mechanical mind also runs in circles. Again, the experience of this circle is vastly different from the circles Black Elk speaks of.

    Extracting oneself from the mechanical requires awareness. Exploring the compulsion to mental activity requires a process of observation not dependent upon constant internal chatter.

    Image by Mark Willis

  • Green Rain

    Green_rain

    Beneath giant conifers
    Deep in the old growth
    The harsh wind stills
    The earth lives and breathes you
                               as the green rain falls

    Pine scent, pitch and resin
    Blend and mingle with rich
    Black dirt and decay
    Alpha & Omega
                               as the green rain falls

    Accepting; allowing; nourishing
    Gentle drizzle; caressing mist
    Air cleansed and freshened
    Amazing awesome space
                               as the green rain falls

    A face; a heart; a soul
    Lifted; turned; bared
    Compassionate ablution
    No need to seek salvation
                              as the green rain falls

  • Withholding Violence

    Wizard

    wizard (wîz´erd) Middle English wisard : wise

    1. One who practices magic ; a sorcerer or magician.
    2. A skilled or clever person.
    3. Archaic. A sage.

    Today, Oz (from the Wizard of Oz) seems like such a common term that we don’t really consider where it came from. The name for Oz was thought up when the creator of the story, Frank Baum, looked over at his filing cabinet and saw: A-N and O-Z.

     

    When you call yourself an Indian or a Muslim or a Christian or a European, or anything else, you are being violent. Do you see why it is violent? Because you are separating yourself from the rest of mankind. When you separate yourself by belief, by nationality, by tradition, it breeds violence. So a man who is seeking to understand violence does not belong to any country, to any religion, to any political party or partial system; he is concerned with the total understanding of mankind.   –   J. Krishnamurti

    It has been my observation that some of the most violent people don’t see themselves that way. This is because to many, violence is always associated with overt aggression. Aggression in the service of anger, hatred and rage.

    But, to the tender hearted child or undefended soul the violence of withholding is every bit as painful and assualting as rage. In fact, it may be worse. To withold love, attention, appreciation or one’s presence from another is violence.

    We perpetuate this type of violence on ourselves everyday.

    Image by Maria William

  • DreamTime

    Dreams

    Life, life it’s only a dream one small bend in an endless stream…
    (a line from song by Rich Miller, an old friend)

    As my friend Jim Walberg says, “We are prisoners of our belief systems.”

    This raises the contemplation – How open is our mind? It’s not so much a question of – What can we concieve of? as much as – How much can we let go of?

    What’s needed is more space, more pliability, more sensitivity for the mind to be influenced by forces beyond the habituated reification. The conviction that life is as it appears is more a matter of conditioning or a world dream.

    “We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of the dream….” – Willie Wonka

    “A dream we dream alone is only a dream. A dream we dream together is reality. – Yoko Ono

    “All that we see or seem Is but a dream within a dream.” – Edgar Allan Poe

    “Quantum particles are the dreams that stuff is made of.” – David Moser

    Image by A.J. Kalin

  • Being

    Being almaas

    Simply being means the absence of any
    activity, inner
    or outer, to be ourselves.
    Simply being is just that: Being.

    A.H. Almaas

  • Have you heard the song from Hell’s Gate Canyon?

    To reach that isolation

    wind rushes across a great thirst

    a dry and arid desertedness

    Mile after endless mile

    wind tempered and purified and tempered

    molecules smashed against barren rock

    Atoms stripped and polished

    by invisible sand

    Pristine, razor sharp

    slicing through space – no resistance

    rushing in great abandon

    Its mate, a canyon carved by eternity

    walls sail heavenward

    sandblasted to transparency

    And there, beyond the moon’s arc

    a solitary crack, an atom’s width

    Lover rushes into, penetrates the beloved

    their love a single piercing note

    strips the spirit from flesh and bone

    frees the soul; slays the heart

    Those wishing to hear

    come as a sacrifice

    bodies left at the gate

    Pure Brilliant Beauty

    One Note

    All Knowing

    not thought

    not feeling

    A SONG

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