Category Archives: Not Two

Twine of Earth and Sky ~ Beholden

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if I could open all the mysteries that daunt

would there not yet be another mystery lain

at yet another level or circuit of my being?

 

what of this earth and sky that is not seen

but felt in the bones and in the electrical pulses

throughout this finely tuned cutting, this scion

 

what am I cut from and what does carry me

in these ways that have many names, one

of which might be apocrypha or rubric lost

 

we have come upon things inexplicable, yet

somehow we are not at peace nor openly greet

that which is beholden to vastness and fire

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we have looked upon our own center, that void

where the eye cannot see nor rightly focus

something of what we are, a purity in depth

 

and simplicity simultaneously defies convention

all things gathering and also falling around

this shockwave that has no compass or steer

 

perhaps that is the mystery, somehow we are

free of place and time yet conjure it still as

everything we do and say, playing at substantiation

 

we catch ourselves again and again in the folly

of needing to know how to come and go

when in coming there is the going ~ no distance

 

A Letter As Separate Self Dissolves (photo collage)

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A Letter As Separate Self JPEGDear Followers of Contemplative Fire,

Thank you all (especially for the recent followers in 2015, who I haven’t had a chance to thank yet!) I have just created the above collage version of a poem of mine from back in February to share with a community, which I am part of, who are meeting in person soon. This photo collage version of my poetry is BRAND NEW for me.

Thanks for the help in getting it posted directly on the blog, Adam!

Blessings and love to you all!

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

 

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.

Fumble

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I am my own all and nothing

Sensations of the body brain crowd in

What of these am I and not

A new mix of All That Is

Dawning like any other new dawn

But a measuring stick was left

By an unexpected guest

And unconsciously I pick it up

Fumble, aim to use it until I see

What it is, grasped in hand

 

Walking backwards sizing things up

I trip over the empty footsteps

That were never there

And that is when

Everything relaxes back

Into simply What Is

 

Acknowledgment

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birthing and dying simultaneous actions

twilight and break of day cannot be disjoined

music and silence virtually one and the same

∞

so why do we carry such pretense as

playing as if there is only life creative

without life dismembering itself too

∞

our bags are overfilling as we carry

the carcass of all that has already

departed  carrying on the pattern

∞

of What Was tripping over What Is

forging some remnant nonexistent now

into something we pay homage over and over

∞

memorializing as a preoccupation takes over

while the beautiful concerto of life / death

carries on all around us in every way and thing

∞

listening now to the music and the silence

welcoming birthing and dying simultaneously

such moves in us breath in breath out

∞

to RUH and the crystals of consciousness, too

This One

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This one  showing up

Rises on the view

Looking out over open horizons

Curious and curiouser

And I, what is I am, watching

.

I stand in your company

The stories pour and pour

Forth that great big vessel

Of a heart uncontainable

But wishing to be contained

.

Who has the story or does

The story have us intermingled

Woven in and out of the weft

Of being thread of becoming

Such a delicate thread it is

.

However it is  it is a gift of

Heart of love of seeing

Beauty speaks through these

Strings strum simultaneously

Tremolo sostenuto entangle

.

Trust Fortitude Misfortune Joy

All gather ’round the table

Made just for these and Two

Others autonomous resplendent

Everything celebrates This One

.

“Will you let me love you?”  Awry

The question shines like a diamond

Many faceted and subtle in its stark

Beauty because Love has no bounds

And knows this source from its core

.

No permission is needed as What Is

Is simply What Is ~ how many times

Does saying that make it so? It seems

Easier to speak the unspeakable

Than freeing that which is Unbound

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Vastness Conjuring

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I say these things
You laugh

What heart are we
And where

The attachments fall so
Heavily at my feet

Stubbing toes and more
I Am That

Does it matter where
I Am

Relax, says the sky
I am here

You can’t go anywhere
Without me

This vastness answers
All my questions

Just because they appear
To be moving

Doesn’t mean the clouds
Abandon us

You have finally stumbled
Across my breadcrumbs

Now it’s my turn to laugh
Because you are the path

Finding your way home
Could never be easier

Conjuring vastness
There a hundred fold reward

Who has strayed
Off the path perhaps me

Order is never lost
Only found that single garment

A dazzling raiment
As I plainly step out of my skin

The absolute waiting
Beyond comprehension

A stillness not
Measured nor breathed

Paths converge
Never having been split

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Stir The Pot (taste the life)

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With each veil, whether opaque or transparent
There you are, such that the phenomenon
Of ‘behind’ a veil takes on a new slant.
You’ve redefined it for me in the juxtapositions
You carry, heavily, awkwardly, and some tenderly.

For ‘behind’ becomes ‘out in front,’ the evening drunkenness
Marries with the sober mess of another day
Creating one breathtaking yet somber step
In the choreography of this life, the life
You have surreptitiously invited me to witness.

Which of these veils lay, in their transparency,
Across your heart? How do you know
Your own heart when that which obscures lends
Its fashioning to nearly every breath you take?
What, in your own private ken, can take your breath away?

Why not let it be so even here, even now.
Regardless of what it could bring, what could
Be said of you, of the other. Melt, like the snows,
That brick of larder sheltered in the walk-in
Of the kitchen of your existence. Taste.

What is here. Taste. Join me in the life that is yours.
Join me in taking in the smells, the fragrances.
Yes, you may suffer immunity from those. Walk
Anew into your own life through my eyes,
Landing there in a freshness that is Timeless.

May these words beckon to you in the way
Your touch has softened something in me,
Even in your withholding. For touch is beyond
Flesh, includes flesh, is the origins of flesh,
Something more than the senses that sees, hears, and listens yet.