THE BOX CALLED “STOP”

WE are Men and Machines.
WE know how to Start, but never learned the STOPPING.

The STOPPING Mechanism.
The Little Black Box.

The Box called STOP.

STOP the Box.

BOX the Stop.

 

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The Indelible Orange of You

Indelible Moonscapes
Places we travel; things we know

the Insatiable Juice of the Orange of You.
parading in all of its Fine Contempt

Contempt for things worldly
contempt for the unbending Finger of Time
contempt for the abrasiveness of Modern Man

The Indelible Orange of You

We seek the softness of things that Fly
Things that Know their Home, their Righteous Country
their Place of Birth.

We seek the Meal that Satisfies
the Unquenched Caverns in the Labyrinth of Heartland
the Taste of the Delicate & Informed
Lessons of love.

The Wheel that Turns
the Time that Goes
the Tiny Hand
that paints the spiral Heavens
of the inner Canvas
that grows
and grows
and grows.

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The Eternal Moment

There are Bowls
There are Drawers here
There are Hidden Shapes & Accessories

There are Small Kingdoms in Passing Moments
There is a Treasury of Doubt
and the Currency of the Inner Smile

There is Me Here
and there is You.

You: The one I have lost & found,
lost and found, lost & found.

Me: the one who stands
on Solid Ground
and spins around
and around
and around.

And then, there is the Sound.
The sound of Naked Waterfalls
filled with Diamonds of the Sun.
The sound that bubbles up
from deep inside the Ground.
The Hum of a Million Birds
The Stampede of the Butterflies of the Heart.

 

All is Sudden.
All is Changing.
The Ancient takes constant Birth
in the Soft Glove
of the Eternal Moment.

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The Company of Truth

I seek The Company of Truth.

In this Lifetime, this space,
this Tiny Bubble I occupy.

I have long-known The Company of Truth:
the Color of their Eyes, the Clothing they wear;
the lack of Disguise.

The Company of Truth is the blessing of sharing time
with those who know, those who have walked
the path of Inner Freedom
amidst Outer Struggle;

Those who have crossed the threshold of the Open Heart,
and who celebrate the Beauty of Living
the consciousness of This Silent Glorious Song.

Tree of Life, Company of Truth

This is not trivial;
This is not the Popular Path of Lemmings;
this is not the Calling of Convenience,
the Temple of Day-to-Day Commerce,
the Sacrament of Obligation
to those who pull our Every String …

This is Monumental.
This is the Unconstructed Tower of the Spirit Of You.
This is the Fragile Sprout of your Innermost Core:
seeking maturity to Flower, To Vine, To Tree,
to Seed: to spread Abundance in the Wind,
Dandelion Birds soaring to unspoken Heights.

The Elements of YOU

Unhinged.

The Company Of Truth is a Gift.
From one eye to another.  From heart to heart.
From empty caverns flow the Voices of Full Rivers.

From need, from Necessity,
from the Sincere Longing
to Know Home
to Go Home…
comes the Journey Itself.
The Map.
The Vehicle.
Driver & Destination.

The Company Of Truth
is Truth Itself.
Revealed in the Glorious Form
of Humans …
Being …
Rainbows ….

Rainbow, The Downpour

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Gift of the Horse

This day is full of nights.
Brightnesses of strange feathers; birds that align with the sky & take flight.
Small squeaks that get Big Grease, toxic Oil Spots on Troubled Waters.
Boats that float, by Grace alone; dirty Sailors and drunken captains that barely make the road home.

This day is full of nights;
broken bridges and soft blacktop that makes your footstep slop
land-waves and water-faults that sink a man up to the edge of his doubts;
cry-babies of politics and the often-wounded and rarely-dressed open books,
parading around with pages as blank as yesterday’s looks.

This night is full of days
signature scraps of diamond light reflecting in ten thousand different ways
glimmers of diamonds lost in the sand; white-gloved babies longing to take your hand;
the underfed and overweight looking for food, early to late;

This night is full of days
the weavings of humans, all trying to find the way
out of the labyrinth, into the trap, out of god’s uterus, launched off the map
only to fall into their own sap; the juices of life, no napkin to wrap

the light is full of light; let me count the ways
we can all find home; there’s a million sun rays
one ray is enough to burn my trembling hand,
to make all my wedding rings fall into the sand;
the light is full of light; let me taste the source: a mouth is a mouth,
and never think your gift will ride off on any other horse….

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The Art of Eternal Childhood

An email from an old friend. He’s in the throes of raising an 11-year old daughter – amazed by the pure and vital energy of childhood – and asks, “why have we lost this as adults…?”

My answer would be, we haven’t lost this, but we’ve left this. We’ve left this for a set of distractions, protections & consequences that effectively annihilate our chances of returning to the place of innocence, possibility and magic that we knew as children.

As a child, I always knew there was something suspicious, inauthentic and dangerous about the adult character in general. We all know a lot as children, and have access to an amazing range of “emotional intelligence” – intuitive, perceptive and creative capabilities. We sense and live in the spontaneous and ongoing beauty of childhood; we don’t understand or comprehend the “hardening” that has masked and throttled the authority figures around us.

As we grow older, we silently, agreeably adopt and adapt – internalizing all the subtle toxicities and poisons that are handed to us on silver platters: ego, emotional suppression, material obsession, power acquisition & manipulation, playing the proper game and saying the proper words at the proper time – in the proper tone of voice. We learn to obey the Kings of the Adult Architecture: bosses, families, spouses, preachers, pundits and obligations … all at the cost of our own soul.

My own personal journey into Adulthood was interrupted by a “side-trip” into the Land of Self-Knowledge. A side-trip which became the Journey of Life Itself. All the other “main trips” eventually panned out as distractions and misadventures; the subtle and frail voice that pulled me into the heart of Knowing Self, became the most powerful, beautiful, joyful and insightful voice in my being.

Part of the process of Knowing Self seemed to be the reconnection and resurrection of the lost inner child, that – it turns out – is really “me”, after all. The “sweet part” of us, it turns out, is still very much alive, and simply waits like a long lost seed, in the deepest cavern of our hearts, for springtime to return.

But, yes, life presents the challenge of feeling somewhat unique and alone in your “child-craft”; your innocence, beauty and magic seek others to play with – others to share the innate beauty of life with – but, alas, such companions are few and far-between. Most so-called “adults” are busy with the concern of the “adult world” – politics, money, relationship frustrations, sarcasm, jadedness and various mixes of toxic distraction and approved anesthetics.

It does make you value what you do have: access to your own inner song. It makes you value the few companions in life who can indeed share your hearts’ journeys. It makes those moments of play, delight, rainbow-watching, flower-sniffing …. all that much more precious, fragile, fragrant and delicious. And, last but not least: it makes you savor your True Companion, the inner friend you’ve known all along, the one who has been and will be with you every step of the way.

So, the celebration of Eternal Childhood seems to be where it’s at for me.

Sorry, other stuff bores me.

I just don’t have the time be be “grown up” anymore.

The field of life awaits, and it’s brilliant with a million colored flowers.

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