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.

A Letter as Separate Self Dissolves

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Things are just as they are

The many paper doll covers drop away

 

That which Plays does not leave, however

Only the kind of playing that was borne

 

Of striving, play acting, a wish to stand out

Somehow different, as if what we truly Are lacks.

 

No more pretending called for, although pretense

Arrives from time to time, leaving its calling card as

 

Residue, the way sour milk leaves its trace on the glass

The I can momentarily forget that it is Luminous, Empty,

 

That which Knows –and if it wears anything, it is stitched

Together entirely of Love and glows simply as Experiencing.

 

 

San Cristobal, NM

16 February 2015

 

The Will

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The house needs cleaning

things today are strewn about

papers organized and unorganized on the long table

Here and there, there and here

•

The thinking often has a wandering of garbled

life experiences collected along the way

And in dreams  it has a layering like a watercolor wash

over what life has brought here and there

•

Once it was a measure of something essential

–how smooth and ordered these realities

appeared, were managed, shown to the world at large

As if such a point in time made me who I am

•

I bequeath all things inessential to the unfolding

of this life’s replete emanation to their essential returning

Where nothing is owed, owned, thought of, or held over

and not a stick or crumb or iota measured in time.

•

I have died to the life once lived as if there was

an achievement to rally, a fortitude to gain –each of these

offered as a replacement for Simply what I am as myself

What a beautiful death it is, this vibratory transfiguration

•

Here now this territory –without having any territorial

justifications   Opens out –without distance and no other

demarcations that once claimed any right   Singing its vastness

–not as performance or fulfillment  What a singing it is

•

And the house invites cleaning

things today dancing without order

some papers rest and others conversing on the long table

Life is here, there is life

•

I wait without the waiting

each moment a death and transmutation

That is what it can take at times when time is on the clock, the will

written, thusly forgotten –and life is, life is

•

San Cristobal, NM 19 January 2015

•

Thank you as always, Daniel, for your support and love!

Hoarfrost

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IMG_20150108_103724507

 

It arrived as seeming magic yesterday morning

like a new reality being seen for the first time

and remains today sharing its glow still.

 

This touch comes via its recognition –cold but not

A distinct warmth arrives unbidden. The eye

is relieved of its usual work on these mornings

 

Dispensing with its familiar taint formed of other

kinds of vapor, which we gather throughout our

day to day interactions with this stuff of reality.

 

Hoarfrost permeates much the same in its blanketing

of every surface nook and cranny, defying gravity, comes

only when called out by the elements, its conspirators.

 

Colors shift and change, the light dances new dances

–a communion of deep appreciation of living things

that have their own mastery and workings reaches me.

 

This day to day eye softens its course, lays down its tools,

puts aside whatever ways it’s become accustomed to

seeing the world and takes an in breath, yes, breathes in.

 

San Cristobal, NM

10 January 2015

If This is It

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I scour my dreams and other unconscious strata
As if there in that matrix rests that piece of me
The one I would know if you/I stumbled across it
Something about it –perhaps a certain shape or
The way it upends everything upon gazing on it

I might call it a gem, a treasure, a hobgoblin or
Better yet leave it unnamed as that is part of
Its alchemy and how it works –filters through
This strata then the next and then the next
Like a gaseous light a din a fragrance a chill

I have a special apparatus that knows how to track
This this It this wonder this knot, untying itself
Unraveling more than the traces it’s known in travels
Uncharted beyond and outside of time penetrating
Dense matter insinuating itself in likeness, similarity

And yet the very complexion perplexing disparity
Of its presence is what serves as leveraging whisper
Intoxicating tissue bone all that can be agitated
From its stance and form liquefying spine upright
Collapsing again and again simulacra –what upholds

It has looked like this –a plea, subjugation, crying out
It grasps at its subject of affection/disaffection
Target aim narrowing down to focus coddle foster
And yet this is its guise to act as something other than
To stand alongside waiting mentoring flummoxing

And bewildered I am with eyes and heart opened
By this raw wind searing through all persistent cracks
The draftiness of my being is somehow a grace, in which
The delivery of that which is unborn has yet been bared
Comes to its fruition, a soaking in of radiance undeniable

San Cristobal, NM 7 January 2015

Overt Folly Gentle Song

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In the leaving always a return
As sure as spring follows winter
And yet long are some winters
Uncharacteristically long ~ forgetting yet
What rests within ~ a supreme patience
And a recognition that pales any other

In this realm Timelessness reigns
and there is no departing that scars

Such is the wisdom of Life, life beholden
That voice rising along the purest of paths
Untainted from what seem too many diversions
Beacons all from the same source
The oil of that lamp eternal font
Cascade in all measures, as well as none

We come together here, this confluence
the large and the small, high and low
Traveling farther than reaches seen
sooner than expected and later too

This perfection is the last thing to wear that name
Its warmth need never be restored
As what appears to falter is not That
Even what appears to never falter is not That

And as another winter approaches
Its spring calls simultaneously
All bound together in the same music
Note by note  warmth and pale, bright and cool.

We Are This

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There is no methodology
There is just life

There is no education
Simply intelligence awakening

There are no helpers
We are what we are all

Nothing is alone here
What is distance and time?

We have short stopping overs
A pause for this and that

What is the solo journey
If not a full expansion
Of All That Is at one time
Unfolding of this one facet

We cannot comprehend the
Magnitude of what we are

And yet it is so, simply so
Orders upon orders of facets

Of shimmering nothingness
Alive with the mystery of Being

The spectrum of which is infinite
May we simply know this

May we simply know this
In our touching in ~ communion

Anything we think we need
Is inessential and yet we pause

There again and again and again
As if to mark the unmeasurable

To quench that which thirsts for
The exquisiteness beyond form

We bully the forces from which
We emanate, play at placating

We cajole and make light of
That which is the stuff of stars

Not realizing, error upon error,
We cannot eviscerate this Life

For it courses through all that
We Are and think that we are not

Folly of great follies, may we
Continue to play at these mounds

Giving the pitch, burying death,
Crowning all Glory with Herself

This is who and what We Are
We cannot comprehend how

So leave the how and why
The where is simply here now

September 2, 2014

What We Carry

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Names rarely hold us
Yet foster some sense
Of a binding we only wear
But long inseparability from

What continuity is there truly
Forms sign up for this task
And yet are insufficient in their
Very purity of grace in letting go

And then the belly, what a grip
Equally capable and incapable of
Locating us as the semblance of
Our preferences, identities, woes

How soon do we falter with our
Suppositions in what we carry
When instead Life finds us again
Again in our essential forgetting

For only as we trace the humble
Traces, the pure subtle breath
Of communion between the Seen
And the Unseen do we know Us

And return that which needs no
Return as it never emerged as
Separate only appearing as so
And we fall in carrying that along

Falling in and as Love
Falling below measure where
With gratitude we momentarily
May see, nakedly and unabashed

San Cristobal, NM
9.3.2014

You

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Hey, how have you been?
This question is not a question
as in question/answer,
but a contact point, an act
of connection.

It rests in the natural
space of emptiness.
Nothing pushed away
or made into other.

The pure elegance of this goes
unnoticed all too often,
especially by me, the me
thinking there is a you.

And then it appears to be too late
and this business of separateness
has already started – gotten
under way.

You is a tricky conjunction,
so mesmerizing and uncouth really,
like a hammer blow on the head,
not the head of a nail.

We act as if it were as essential
as the blood in our veins and arteries,
but do not take the time
to test it out for real.

These assumptions are
like an intoxicating drug or
vice and to what cause?
So subtle.

The empty You, the I-Thou,
is like the freshest of breezes,
a pause in the clause
of being human.

At Two O’Clock

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20140816-154800.jpg

The clouds moving, nearly
Imperceptibly closer than,
I move to the east side

The eaves shelter from
More than the rains
Good Samaritan design

Noon stands out acting
The Prima Dona except
In loneliness and reaches

Then to One and Two
For company inviting
Them early for tea

Some days no one wants
Near and turns away to
Find the most ready refuge

Awaiting their turn
Their moment in the sun
Patience is a virtue

Blessings come to those
And yet… the winds pick up
Darker under bellies seen

Two O’clock is inconsistent
It’s her way or her luck of the draw
Maybe both perhaps neither

Today she was thinking
About that tea invitation
Chameleon writ large

Seeking anonymity in
The heat of the afternoon
Hoping to get off the hook

For what others have
Come to expect of her
That “time of the day”

And yet it’s all so fleeting
Yesterday’s invitation
A glimmer, is not Today’s

El Rito – Kagyu Mila Guru Stupa campground

8-16-14 2:59pm

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Circle Through

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I sit in the shade
the shadow of nature
taking refuge

A kind of solace
offered everyday for this
one and all

Nothing asked
in return and nothing
offered to possess

Only mistaken
identities get burned off here
and the rest remains

Stepping in and out
of the light we call Humanity
something there

Casts no shadow
when seen As It Is
simply abiding

Not requiring even
an ounce of dignity or regret
as all is equal here

A here where
there is no there or here
nothing set apart

The dance of light
all circles like the sun
invite our fantasies

But invite yourself
to remain As You Are
in the truest sense

Not embellishing
resting in the purity of things
nothing more

Nothing less than
what we are is astounding
pause and see