Author Archives: janicesandeen

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About janicesandeen

Being. Timelessness. The naturalness of being on and of the Earth: communing with animals and humans while being integral with the nature of we. Perceiving humanity and the All at frequencies of all different scales. I write and collaborate with others in the confluence of these. Thanks for contemplating and communing with me or just tuning in for the moment. Blessings from the vast realms of northern New Mexico.

writing jam 1/30/2011 ~ Richmond, CA

Daniel and Lauren Ari hosted a writing jam this past Sunday in their home in Richmond. We, the pot, were stirred by each other. We wrote for about a quarter of the time after reading poetry together and sharing, too. This poem came out of that time together.

What allegiance, pen and paper,

ardour as ink,

this room and the empty space,

the bones.

If you could feel this poem

in a time where words never existed

and still don’t,

poets would know

what it was they were saying

anyhow.

And I would see and feel you,

yes, without yes and no,

remembering, without anything

ever forgotten.

Your standing ~ I see the texts you carry,

that which just gets to be itself

without otherwise being represented

~ ~ ~

Why did you take on

this kind of language, these codes,

when the taste of what resonates

has no bounds or sequencing

in its landing?

Its Own Wonder

i.

The dark left as itself
impresses upon me a whole,
a depth incomparable,
a wonderment beyond
what typically is taken
as the simple absence of light

For the dark is itself
a deep nourishing, a salve
to my bones and beingness as
I walk in the dark, sampling
this exquisite treat of the
unnameable senses

True would be the loss
to suffer nyctalopia, although
many do without knowing
this condition is theirs,
we’ve become so blind
within the hierarchy of light

ii.

Dusk finds the ground within
such that surfaces dissolve
give way to the softer core heat
This communication begins
its emanation, naming each
thing anew as dark arises

In contrast, intentioned light
overshadows and can carelessly enter
the exquisiteness of the dark
where naturally listening things
recede into their essential
incognito. The dusk is that listening

iii.

What do we have in common
with the dark? Are we not dark,
dark in our marrow, in our quiet,

in so many yet to be
realized ways?

And how are we similar to a flame?
The flame, kin to the dark, is it not
ever tender to the shadows?
Lighting a flame, our dark
dances within, with, and around us.

iiii.

As a sweet melancholy
unlike anything
I am drawn to take to the dark,

an exquisite entry

A prescription unique,
a remembering

timeless
walking forward looking deeply

eyes open and open again,

The vastness of the dark field,
to deeply see
what cannot be seen
what cannot

be perceived
through a different wonder.

engaged in this

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

what comes   is what brings itself to   this

what rests there and what moves on

these are  both  a part of the same stuff

the stuff of emergingrecedingpausing

bring your feeling sense to what I am

pointing to if you will, if you feel to

there is an ’empty’ state or open, spacious,

receiving, nothing being grasped for or at

that pervades the formerly preoccupied

ground such that ground becomes being

being breathes just as awareness is quietly

cascadingshoweringbathing itself ever anew

things get done yet no doing ~ on and on

spontaneously refreshing, involuntarily,

with and without innocence both

nothing you can or need to do about it

but be in and as the receiving,

the flowering of this, engaged in this

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

this window, this ground, this being

• • • • • • • • • • • • •
the window that lives
in the flesh and
pulse of my
energy
is a
torus
of energy
that opens out
only after condensing
and tightening around the
pure narrow stream of expansive
isness carrying the touch that is awake
to itself beyond any frequency of identity
that can change or contort the very aliveness

that is that simply is that is that is that simply is

so tight that only that which is empty full empty
moves through a kind of feed zone where the
cognitive semblance of what is perceived
has only the breath of the breath as a
ride to its own ecstatic turning in
to itself and back again all in
the very same moment
as the torus itself,
the inner and
outer curve
of space
being
space
being
opening
and closing
outward inward
spreading narrowing
arching out concaving in
the delight of movement as itself
no other not needing any identity but
this augmentation of harmonic dissonance
freedom pure freedom clear of intention clear
choiceless such as beauty itself rises from and cries

this one this all open out condense in penetrate emerge

such that blooming dying birthing arriving surrenders
and tempers the form through this window into itself
sourcing itself feeding itself through and through
as through and through attenuating its very
nature back into itself as the essence
that it will once again arise from
returning to itself returning
as both the rising and
the falling tastes
the measure of
the other
as the
other
falls
against
the rise and
rises against the
fall of spread open
wings, wings which taper
as they lift touching air to space
space to air to alight only to fall again
to the ground of beingness, this ground here
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

©janice sandeen 10•11•2010

event horizon

as i sit to write i source the event horizon of what emerges

just enough to gather the energy into expression and

i discover there are images there instead of words

there are moving energies in my heart of hearts

that simply don’t want to be put into words

left to the pure beauty of the energy

itself breathing arising alighting

within my awareness

and sourcing

itself as

itself

ahh

ah

a

resting in the flux

resting

in the flux

6/30/10

note: sometimes the title is the poem, the complete poem, the title just as it comes. thus, the nature of contemplative fire: sometimes the contemplation burns so brightly, it’s invisible to the outside world.  i invite you to experience this poem in that way, as it may or may not spark something in you or resonate, similarly, with your own invisible burning. blessings, janice

today always ready

isn’t it funny

how today

is always ready

to come to light

in each moment before

and into the next?

even as the night falls

the light comes

to its knowing

of itself, one

moment no less

perfect than another,

simply breathing

as itself, present

within itself, otherwise

how could it be

anything but today?

causal reply

i hear the instruction of sound

the layers, the depths, the information

the density carried in aural waves

mundane sounds become high teachings

the nature of that which is arising

all things in motion creating sound

every particulate moves in some fashion

of its own in causal reply to another

you who have spoken to me

are now part of this poem

i am nothing but sound

i am everything of sound

interpenetrating, vast, infinite and finite both

more subtle than matter yet

primary, ground, base, core

this carrier of information, prime

communicator, speaking to all that is

ever present, overlooked, overheard

without intent, conveyor and purveyor

simultaneously of energy sensory wakening

my heart breathes in this vibrant matrix

how often have i shadowed myself

not having pause in the listen

the subtleties feeding, nourishing,

potentializing the deeper still within

listening even now  the pulsing of life

i heard the other day that all sound

originates from the first sound ever

that all sound carries with it  even now

primordial matter   the event of which we are

from the shadows

this morning   it felt better to sleep   and to stay asleep

yet as the moment came to awaken

my heart    found rest     in the shadow light

and the dormancy within    had a new voice

the body calibrated for the light   of day

while the heart in wait   exploring opening with

the shadows all around and layered through

now   shadows welcomed and resting

the softness   calming nourishing inside

deep in shadows i am   like you   like we

but tasted on the tongue   as clear medicine

takes a whole other pause   breathing into

surrendering to the weight and the lightness

of the mastery of what is held   complete   within

having taken

having taken what was offered

having taken the cast off, shed, forgotten

what no longer had a home or a heart to tend it

my heart became full, full up, weighted, borne

of burdens not my own yet mine nonetheless

tending tenderly tentatively landing home

having taken in, in here, not that there isn’t

an infinite capacity within, but what about

the fit, a resonance, a lightness of being?

having taken in only to give up, give over

resting in free space, an emptiness of rich order

lacking nothing, born of that which is now arising

this way, of responding to clear, calls me,

calls me out, calls me to see the subtle nature

of interplay, interaction in the field of knowing

the weight of things within and without

as the way of clear can be to enter even further

in to the very thing that blinds and obscures

losing sight, it rests with the spirit to guide,

to inform, to dissolve that which binds me

within a hold that brought edge, nourishment,

truth at one time, yet not at this time as it is

surrendering to what is loosens my grip and

frees this very tightness of the bud to its release