Meander Around

as my body and mind go

they meander around joyfully and play fully

I forget what time it is, what day it is?

important to me,

I can’t go through life with strong precision, purpose

I could, but that would be soft and dull

can’t love being a prisoner to a clock

many people are prisoners to clocks

and don’t seem to mind this

but if i’m not a prisoner to a clock,

those same people seem to notice me

and why I wonder?

my stride is as loose as my thoughts

you can always tell a lot about a person

by the way they walk

my walks are different, yet I love the loose walk

no point A to B from me,

more like A to Z, then B to Z to M and then to C

I meander and forget the spider legs of said time

A Man

File:Buddhist Man Meditating.jpg

A man sat looking at a wall

for nine years, he was after something

can you imagine your cat, or dog, or human

looking at wall for nine years?

you would think them crazy or weird

nine years looking at a wall, in search of

something

truth, immortality

I don’t know

but he found IT

Who are others?

 

What is around me?

things and beings making sounds and moving

the air blowing in the wind

the trees the plants, the air and buildings?

all of these things are not my self

but the dance before my conscience and imagination

if I think shallowly they apart from me, if I think

very deeply they are with me

they will always be separate from my mind

but not separate from that which is not of my mind

the vibrations move slow or fast,

there are different rhythms

and the moods and the seasons change

here I ago again, arguing with people, not liking

people, thinking they are foolish

yet I can’t get away from these people

even if I tried

they will

always be with me

 

 

The Wisdom of Trees

They hear the song blowing in the wind

they do not, write, make music

paint or perform

the trees are silent(maybe they speak to each other)

the squirrels, birds, insects, bacteria and other small animals

make them their home,

their is a belief that the trees are even more sensitive than we

are

we will never know

for we can not speak their leafy language

their branches sway with the wind

they know a pleasant day, and the storms equally

yet they stay put

they are just as alive as the mammals and the insects

they sit there waiting and crying and giving,

giving us oxygen, while we knock them down for paper

these wise old trees.

standing upright and giving life and light,

they got so unnoticed by many of us

yet, you can feel them when you grow more

meditative

Who Am I?

Image result

I am not the body

I am not my fingers

my lungs, toes

eyes, nor breath

there is something else which is going on

the mind growths and decays

along with the body

but something else remains

when you really focus on it

when you really focus on it

everything you have learned disappears

along with your own thoughts

and desires

there is something other than your heart

and your lungs

this thing connects you with the whole

and is equal to bugs and insects and trees

I am a mortal man, and think of those

who are no longer here in the body, the dead

they are some where

just not in front of me, cant be perceived through the senses

but this, I can feel, just as a tree

lives,

I am nowhere near as profound

as Ramana Maharshi

But the I is not me

it is our world

and your ego, is not you

at all

Love

 

One should make one’s love a big a possible.  Many problems come from making your love small.  When I say love, I should say goal or something that we strive for which is worth while.   And Love is certainly worthwhile. A love, which as big as existence itself, therefore will be hurt less by the stings of misfortune.  I think of a bee stinging a large body of a bear. Surely the sting could not hurt as much or as bad, as something being stung which way smaller. But when we attached ourselves to a single goal.  Things can go simply wrong, and we our left devastated.   Mere puzzle pieces on the ground.   People say that the world is filled with broken people.  They are often broken because of the Goal.  I say be goal less.  Or to be the goal.  Once you are the goal.  You will stop thriving and be.   And isn’t that the end of any striving or goal.  To just be.   The end, which is complete in itself.  Isn’t that what Osho means when he says,  “make your love so huge that it becomes love in itself.”   Love without suffering, heartache, thriving, and jealousy and confusion.   The love that is harmony not, opposing the mystery.