Come clean

How can I come into the present moment, you ask. Come clean. Come empty. Come full of space. Come full of empty space.

If you let a word define you it will always be wrong. Words disintegrate, letters crumble. They are but vanishing ink marks on a slate. Do you really want to hang one around your neck like a noose ? Take a word, if you must, hold it tight and never let it go. The winner is me ! Raise your clutched hand high, shout the word out loud. But do you really want to make yourself so small ? Do you want to live hidden in such a cramped space, behind letters that someone might suddenly and simply erase ? Winner is just a word and you are so much more. Continue reading “Come clean”

Bird’s song

I wake up wondering why I woke up. I wake up clasping the edges of a rapidly dissipating dream. I wake up wondering, ‘Wait, am I supposed to be worried,’ as a flash of unfounded fear permeates my body. Morning.

Tweet, says a little bird. Tweet, he joyously announces the birth of a new day despite the fact that we are still deeply buried in night’s darkness. How do you know, dear bird ? How can you be so bold ? Then there is a chirp, a cheep, a twitter, a tweet. The dawn chorus cracks night open to let in the day’s light. Do birds ever awake in fear and doubt ? Do they ever worry that morning won’t come about ?

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Gift package

We block ourselves by putting the glass first. ‘I want to serve water to the world,’ whispers Being. ‘Okay, says Brain, but wait, I need a glass. What ? No glass ? I need money to buy a glass. I need a job to get money to buy a glass so I can serve your water to the thirsty.’ Quickly the original premise gets quenched by the physical demands of a material world. I lie in bed, mouth dry, lips crackling. It is dusk and I am dying. I realize that I spent my entire life chasing after a glass. And I realize too, too late, that I could have simply served the water in my cupped hands.

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Ocean wave

A wave begins beneath the surface. It grows in size and strength as it moves towards the inevitable beach where it comes crashing to an end, only to seep back to its beginnings again. Thus is the condition of man.

The origin, the essence, the force of a wave is its ocean. We get confused because we think, “I’m a wave! I’m a wave! Look how big. Look how strong.” But then, “uh-oh, the beach!” upon which we all crash with a splash. A wave is temporary. Ocean is eternal. You are both.

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Insides out

I realized in the dead of night that I must write inside out. How awkward to try to write what it seems I’m supposed to say… to try to guess the words you wish to hear. We can only know one truth, our own truth. Each lighthouse casts a unique glow and it shines from inside to out.

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