Category Archives: vibrational musings

A Stand In As Myself or Something Else

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I have sometimes written a poem without having to be aware of the writing

You see, the poem aside from its writing or typing is an entity of its
own. It is seen, heard, felt, paused,

And squeezed out from behind the corner of the eye, the eye that is not
an eye

.

One where seeing comes in a whole other spectrum than

The usual one –not one you can manufacture here –one that exists already

It comes of its own accord like twilight or dawn, nothing can stop it or begin it

.

When you pause in the words, you’ll see a whole shift of light

It can easily be blocked, consciously or unconsciously; but if you let it be, everything takes on a different tone

For that time when things look as they do in between

.

The poem appears, it comes into its own, and recedes as if it has breath

[those reading and writing access it equally yet different]

It cannot be said even which comes first, the one who reads or what writes

.

And being is like that, too –am I myself or something else

What moves this now, not such that it is a hall of mirrors

But the something else continuously speaks itself as if I were the pen and paper

IMG_0296

Skin Deeper

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You’ve lost your watch
and nearly lost your mind
you can see and feel yet
•
You passed out of time
and now you reach for
but out there there are
•
No references any more
real than one thing from
another or all things real
•
In their own way just as
you real within this skin
consciousness skin deeper
•
The blinking cursor tells
nothing like it once may
have now only intervals
•
With some precision and
without measure so help
you time where what when
•
Something helps you pace
yourself find your bearings
we’ve given those numbers
•
Strange fruit such magic
unfolding again and again
before our eyes oh yes
•
How will you know to
arrive to depart to fall in
to be yourself all in all
•
Such fraternity the avenue
of time cannot turn against
all things unto themselves
•
Out(side) of time we rest
markers makers listening
as long as stars hold yet
•
Even then or were that
may be or not we start
again deeper than begin

Welcome/Valkommen

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There is no question
Anymore even where
Once there were two,
Three, four, even more.
Resounding fathomless
Space time returning to
Itself prescient, unaltered.
•
Silence, in its knowing,
Visits without visiting
Sings without singing
Arrives without arriving.
•
•
After Where Life Resounds by Dag Hammarskjold

Words Behind WORDS

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There  is   a  place   behind  the

words  that   emerges,     where

being           just is.        Perhaps

the        Void       but  even   that

W O R D                    is   only   a     

M A R K E R    appearing now

on this P A G E.  What is being

touched,  evoked         with  and

through the V E H I C L E of a

word? I find the   ‘best’    poetry

or expression  comes when  the

words    drop out   of  being  the

subject, avoid drawing attention

to               themselves,             are

e   m   p   t    y      pure     vessels

containing         expression   that

lives   and            breathes  in   or

from an    other realm.     Words-

and-telling       or       words-and-

saying live       somewhere        in

these    cells    in this awareness.

Fr ee Move ment

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Bound less out side of time

Yes exist ence so clear ly bleeds

through all truth s

sim ultaneously if only

watching hap pens

happen stance ly marking s

open out the con straints

Gen uis in spirit

nev er separate d

not ever

fractal  f r a c t a l   f  r  a  c  t  a  l

what Brings it to get her

takes it a part

kin esthetics

aBOUT wRITING

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This thing, writing, how is it really any different than thinking, turning introspectively inward, or even self inquiry? What is this stuff of light, frequency, felt sense, understanding ~ the body such an exquisite vehicle for collecting and concentrating all this phenomena ~ changing or not, differentiating or not, being discerned or not? The stuff of consciousness, Already Fulfilled and Not Yet Fulfilled, hexagrams 63 and 64 respectively, are like polar opposite contacts in an electrical circuit: the energy or consciousness stream depends on contact with both points, nodes, or touchstones.

Writing is the stuff of making manifest and fixing something that otherwise exists on its own in a subtle and mutable form, giving the impression that once fixed in writing, there is something real to be grasped. Thus the risk inherent in writing that makes the writing seem more important that what it is a trace of or what it aims to point to. These are marks. That fact can be pointed to easily by simply changing the order of the marks around such that something can still be read, but no sense or meaning can be made of it: t.xyoi liif s;lk  fielkb wor nd sook l llll fhk,k.

So what comes before or during writing? Does anything come after? Can what is being pointed to, actually be touched, felt, understood, perceived or is it merely a potential? And if writing is the making of marks, what then is the organization of those marks and what is the perceiver of that of organization, such that the matching of the order of marks may then open out the possibility for a new seeing or a new understanding of consciousness within itself, of itself?

So Many Reflections Through This Form

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First, it’s the music ~ music is one of the deepest reflections there is for me. A reflection in the most visceral sense where within me a recognition is stirred of the primordial nature of what I feel to be my very core self or essence. When I experience this kind of reflection, it’s as if I have access to the formless nature of being through the form of my physical self, the simple within the complex, and the vastness of the timeless within the present moment. It’s not as if I’m listening to music, but I am the music, the awareness, consciousness, and the embodiment of the music. ~ 10.7.11

Another is simply being one with nature ~ interesting, this one. Of course, I am one with nature, as there is no separating that very core aspect of this form existing in nature, as nature, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to perceive myself as ‘being one with nature.’ What occurs more than not, however, is that I am in some organized structure, a house, a car, something constructed out of nature, but one that creates more of a separation from nature than not. These structures and dwelling in them seems to me to be similar to the mind dwelling in a concept ~ there is some ‘safety’ or ‘protection’ there in the concept, but ultimately an artificial boundary.

Stepping outside of these structures, I find I meld with or join my timeless and natural state of being when just surrendering the form into natural landscape. I walk and walk up into the hills only to immerse my nature in the nature of these surrounding hills and forests, laying supine on a grassy slope facing the western sinking sun. I experience the closest thing to this ‘pre-mind’ nature in my ‘post-mind’ consciousness.

Eckhart Tolle describes nature and animals as being ‘pre-mind’ and humans as ‘post-mind.’ (In his CD collection called the art of PRESENCE.) What I take from this is that even though we, as humans, have been front and center so overly involved on an evolutionary level with the development of the mind and thus the preoccupations of the mind, we are actually at a time when we have the opportunity to step into a new ‘post-mind’ relationship with being that has an interesting relationship with the ‘pre-mind’ state of being we can witness in animals and nature. “Connecting with being,” he calls it “connecting with your body, it’s more than body, the invisible life that animates the body, the intelligence field.”

Nexus Self Rest as Motion

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The perception point as a place of rest within the space of time/space moving around me has become more real, more palpably felt for me lately. At one time I experienced what felt to me as a profound shift in my relationship to my thoughts through a recognition of the distinction between streams or kinds of awareness, each with their own unique natures. At that time, it was a great revelation, which was followed by moments that felt like a liberation as I would feel free to say, “ah, I’m not thinking about this!” Even though thinking happened, I would not bring my focus there as part of feeling into or sensing my movements or direction. It was a recognition that thinking was not required to ‘be’ and to be true within myself, that what was true for me had an autonomy all its own, not dependent on being thought through. I’m curious now, if that was a moment that I recognized the experience of resting in the mechanics of storyline.

And now, this resting within a primary perception point comes as felt sense, not so much a recognition of something, but internal sensing of something undeniable, real where all things in motion are held in a spatial or 360 degree relationship rather than a linear relationship. Listening deeply to music, I have a similar experience of the kind of spatial awareness I’m pointing to here. Although the music can be represented linearly by a score and be accessed by musicians and played via that score, the experience of being in the music, hearing it, is purely vibrational, non linear, spatial in the sense that the vibrations move all around in their unique tones and frequencies. Music, for me, is spatial, organically opening out awareness. I have such a deep recognition of my own nature as I rest in the music, music that I respond to and resonate with.

What I love about arriving at (where there is also no arriving, no departing) this perception point, is taking in the richness of the perceptual field from the vantage point of the spatial listener, the three and four dimensional seer, the receptive. The music or the view is complex and simple at once. There is totality and there are many threads, each unique and distinct that have their own natures. And these threads correspond with aspects of my conscious or unconscious uniqueness such that the actual weaving of these are a dance that happens all on its own. There is a felt sense of the totality within me and all around me indistinguishable, just as the music or silence has capacity to penetrate and completely absorb this nexus of self.

‘On the Shore’

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~ fifteen minute timed writing with a found starting phrase during a writing jam hosted by Daniel Ari, Richmond CA ~ October 23rd, 2011

On the shore, lapping up, the waters, amongst the grit of the sand and other things that are under foot. The grit under foot ~ stay there. It’s a visceral experience of staying with right now that feeds me, that calls me, beckons me to not divert the energy through thought, but to stay with experience, the connection with sensate beingness that is ground, ever present like the heat in my face now. A kind of flush that rises up as I sit with my own tendency to shift all too easily and quickly with what is, to what could be and now I recognize how dissatisfying that really is.

The questions are right there waiting, waiting to pop through, bleed through, but this time I’m experimenting with not giving them energy and instead going back to the shore of what I’m sitting with right now, the grit, wet and cool and coarse, under my feet ~ now anticipating the bell [the end of the writing period] and remembering we have more time in this round. Ah, I’d already gone into just a hint of measuring myself ~ good to see that it arises in me, too, not just others putting the measure out, putting the measure on me.

These grains of sand on the shore are right here under foot. Sand crystal touching cells of my skin communicating with no meaning needed to be conveyed, just being there. I stand and my legs meet my body, torso, heart, and the cosmos simultaneously. The peace of just being with, this feed me so deeply. Little else seems to feed me in this same way.

I am released in this release of being anywhere else than where I am right now ~ the belly both alive and on fire with itself, with the emotions there waiting to be digested, felt, and what else? I cant thing of how to say or write it, but I keep writing just as I stay right with what is calling me to be present here on the shores of feeling. And the questions lap up again and again, but they are gentle waves, not overwhelming. I can hear.