Another Night on Earth

The moon is rising swiftly tonight,
as if it can barely wait, as if this will be the last
and only time, a last and only chance to be fully seen,
fully appreciated for the pure transparency of Presence
pulsing in the supernal lunar song it sings.

Behind the curtain of exquisitely reflected light
draped across the horizon, dreaming’s doors
are thrown open to the infinite sky of mind,
that space in which this moon and I arise,
the stage on which we dance tonight.

As if on some invisible celestial cue,
everything emerges and performs within that
borderless vastness, dancing in an enormous dark,
with nothing else to do but shine and vanish
in a way for which no spoken words apply,
nor could anything conceived by reason
ever possibly compare.

Just one taste of the dark elixir
distilled from that mystery magic
can drown two sorrows – self and other.

Dancing or being danced –
what difference then would it make?

There are forest flowers tilting towards the light
in a hushed choreography of wordless worship –
each bloom unique, and yet all exuding
one collective sigh of adoration.

When we become very still, we can listen, hear,
and intuitively understand that perfect language,
and in such a simple but sublime way, realize
we are so much more than we’ve imagined.

Moon-struck and heart-pierced, we all stand here,
silent, trembling, and astonished in the light,
feeling the barely perceptible turning
of the whole planet as it sails in its course
through the endless night, carrying the dreams
of every forest creature in the serene caress
of the Presence that lives them.

Moon Mudra

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Crown of Creation


Suspended between dark and dawn, a bittersweet loneliness washes over me
in this hushed, expectant moment. It is both personal, and yet somehow also a reflection of the collective consciousness. Indeed, there seems to be a kind of wounded-ness inherent in this beautiful but fragile human form – this humble temple of art and soul, doubt and hope, fear and resistance, love and yearning.

I recall a childhood picture: Jesus, chest opened, pointing to a luminous heart nested within a crown of thorns. I knew that there was something important being revealed about life in that illustrated juxtaposition of compassion and suffering that I needed to learn, but any attempt by mind to figure it out proved both futile and frustrating. Something else was clearly required. Moreover, any of the doctrinal explanations I encountered never really satisfied me – only by slipping into that heart-space myself did I begin to get a feeling for the paradox of wounds.

In the soft grey predawn drizzle, not a breeze stirs and yet, it suddenly occurs to me that the old Yaqui Brujo was right – there is a crack between the two worlds of dark and light. As I gaze through my window, my spirit extends out and soars through that crack. Have I been magically shifted into another realm, or has it always been this very world, but I – so hypnotized by consensus beliefs and the numbing stream of random thoughts – have been too blind to see?

Impossibly, the many trees before me begin to lean and sway in an orchestrated dance – all in different directions, but perfectly coordinated in a divine choreography that is wild, ecstatic, free! Alive as consciousness itself, they seem at first to wave within me, woven in the shared recognition of our undivided being, until I realize that there is no within, no without, only limitless loving Presence!

Immediately, a joyous choir of blessed birdsong blends into this harmonic chorus of life awaking to itself, celebrating itself as one immense Being, bursting with unbearable Happiness, undulating in synchronous bliss. Have I died? That odd thought momentarily arises, but is quickly washed away in a sudden gentle downpour.

The softly falling rain is pure nectar, sublime water of precious existence, origin of every streaming river spilling through this transparent landscape of bright and sky-like vision, irrigating the dryness of dull despair with the sweet healing moisture of remembrance, remembrance of our innocent primordial nature which has never been divided from its Source – this indescribable Presence.

That living Presence has now become like an enormous aviary, embracing all the vast and varied birdlife within, all the brilliant birdsong, all beautiful breathing beings, with only a translucent rainbow boundary that arcs majestically between what sings within, and the symphonic glory expanding infinitely beyond this fragile love-sifted shell of Heart, garlanded with the Crown of Creation.


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A Kind Of Knowing

There is a kind of knowing, like a tender touching without hands,
that impregnates the whole body in the same way subtle threads
of aromatic incense drift lazily through the burgundy evening,
sifting through and permeating mind’s secret tabernacle
with the mysterious emotion of perpetual extinction.

Like theatrical characters in ghostly motion, all performing
in a pantomime of time, we’ve arrived at dreaming’s crossroads
where we’re waiting for the light to change, waiting for the moment
we’ll be born again, only to find that there’s no other world,
we are not elsewhere, we are here — we always are.

There is no limit or boundary on where or what that is,
nor name or label that applies, just you and I and all creation,
joyously entangled together in the pure wonder of our loving,
warm tears brimming, and no fear at all, nor need of any armor
of cool resistance to the interpenetration of soul and Supreme.

We’ll see again that we are what we have always been:

an innocent radiance shining through the brilliant body
of our diamond being, suffused with every happiness
and pregnant with infinite possibility, expanding in all
directions simultaneously, compassionately unfurling itself
into glad tidings of streaming blessing for the children
conceived in the womb of emptiness, afloat in amniotic fluids
of primal ecstasy, forever free of knowledge, care, or will.

Like some exquisite god that nobody has yet found a way
to worship, we died into life, exhaling that secret sound
in which every light-eyed creature blissfully luxuriates,
our exuberant wake attended by hosts of invisible beings,
all rejoicing for the shining ones who are never born or die.

baby knowing

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Home Fires

When mind moves
this universe appears,
filled with light and sound.

When mind returns to silence,
not a single ember of it
can be found.

Just as with a mirror
and its reflections, so too
are you and I and everything
appearing in the clear light of mind
as the mind’s own thought projections.

What magical sights, what pure delights!

Some might say this light is Love, though
if I can be blunt: Love burns!

Here’s a blazing manifesto to nobody,
its cool flames flickering on an empty screen,
seen and unseen at last come clean, known and
unknown with no gap between, no space to stick
a meaning, the utter dissolving of dreaming
in the unquenchable fire of Love’s desire.

Here! Here!

Here’s to that wisdom beyond compare:

nobody here, nobody there, everyone everywhere
perfectly aware, at peace, at cease, at play
in the fleece, asleep in the deep — still
beware, it’s steep, a white hot
leap, a fire-fed streak
out of nothing to

Hear! Hear!

Out of nowhere we appear,
already destined to disappear,
fully dressed to do our very best
at putting to rest the ache at the heart
of the Love God’s yearning, the one
who sets the Big Wheel turning,
the same one who’s keeping
the home fires burning.

Just so, let’s burn it all –
all of our reluctance, resistance,
our greed, envy, ignorance, and hate.

As long as we cling to names and forms,
to hope and fear, to far and near,
there’s fuel we can incinerate.

None of it passes through the gate
so let’s not wait, let’s do it now –
why hesitate?

fire heart

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The Absolute dons a cloak of illusion
to wander like a fascinated botanical tourist
through the luscious garden of its own creation,
redolent with the scents of life, death, pleasure, pain,
and all the vivid richness that sentient beings crave and fear.

This world itself is a realm of imaginary playmates
with no solid or enduring reality of their own,
except for that which is bestowed on them
in the mind of that wild wanderer —
You, Beloved!

As You casually recline on a shoreline called “Eternity”,
lucidly dreaming out into the shimmering mirage of Yourself,
the transparent forms of Your flowing creative energy
weave and dance in a seamless choreography
of ocean and wave, while You mindlessly
drift through the luminous radiance
of the mysterious Unknown.

In Your grand mood of sublime intoxication
You stroll naked and delirious through self-lit star fields,
gathering just the right amount of fragrant light to permeate
jewel-like water worlds with the irresistible perfume of dawn.

Wordless in Your innocent wonder at the synchronicity
of the vast totality of infinite manifestation swarming
around You now like drunken mayflies in summer,
You delight in the inexhaustible play of cause
and effect, at visions of love at first sight,
at rainbow worlds of wondrous lyricism
innocently spun from the potent seed
of Your own divine curiosity.

Although there are those reputed wise ones
who will claim that You are formless nothingness,
just as others assert that You are the basis of everything,
all such conceptions are simply Your own humorous jests,
compassionately spoofing the compounded charades of identity,
while effortlessly transmuting the chill of chaos and doubt
into the welcome warmth of genuine humility
by merrily confounding all rigid beliefs.

You always know what’s alive in the heart of all,
since it is Your heart in which all arise and dissolve,
already self-liberated beyond any thought or story
in the same way that there is no actual birth or death,
or even any paradox that can account for the perfection
that outshines both existence and non-existence
in one ever-widening, child-like Smile.

A chorus of rapturous melodies emerges from that silence
pregnant with Your Joy, a tonal architecture of mounting ecstasy
expanding in all directions simultaneously, while You gaily dance
in the exquisite mirror of Your own mind, casting ever-new reflections
sourced from the inconceivable fullness of sky-like emptiness.

Every door is but another doorway to You, and yet
only You alone pass through in Your dream
of distance, time, and motion.

In that same ineffable way, without anticipation or regret,
hope or fear, desire or its lack, but with only the breathless
spontaneity of a dove flock’s sudden soaring murmuration,
I bow down forever to You, the Light that lives me,
the vibrant miracle of Love that breathes me.

Yes, Your Light is Love, and since what You are
and what I am are not two, this unspeakable brilliance
has no beginning or end, no before or after, no place
or stage where it leaves off and something else
somehow somewhere appears.

This Love which makes all dreams possible,
all dreaming and even the end of dreaming too,
will forever revel in Itself as the magical display
of all there is, was, or ever shall be, and to that I say,
with a happy Hallelujah Chorus leaping from my lips:

“Wanderer, walk on!”

Your Light

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Duality Duo

Thy Will is done –
our song is but its echo.

Water dripped on the hardest stone
makes a pure kind of music
as it wears the hardness

My own hard-heartedness
still staggers me and
makes me weep.

The sound
my tears make
is Your Music.


A silent mind embraces
the perfect cacophony of Being.

Unadorned reality is that shout
that births us into the song of itself,
and yet it is still not enough
to satisfy this outrageous
yearning for You,

Not until I drown
in Your Light —

not till then!


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The Sound That Makes Love

Within the sea of pure potentiality,
the ocean of consciousness, an energetic resonance
precipitates movement, spawning waves and ripples
which intersect and mingle, rise and fall.

This one dynamic impulse reverberates within itself,
birthing the totality of universal manifestation
through the play of complex living forces
initiated by its vibration.

Without beginning, this unspeakable power
manifests in increasingly differentiated levels,
with each successive layer contained
within its more subtle predecessor.

When the life-energy moves out and down
into the more solid dimensions,
desire is born.

Thus it was that you appeared here,
even in this far outpost of materiality,
with the unquenchable desire to be and to know,
to know yourself as two, as four, as many
as it takes to make a world,
your world.

At first unsure, but curious, you circle
around yourself as if you were an other,
so shyly at first, but wanting to touch,
to touch and be touched.

You want to feel it all,
all of yourself.

Yes, you came to see and be seen,
to hear and be heard, to make a world
out of your vibrating thought, the thought
that brought all of this into existence,
just so that you could love
and be loved.

All of the ensuing complication,
the infinitely alternating play of expansion
and contraction, of pursuit and retreat, is the play
of that love in time and space, the pulsing sound
brought down by love into this warm flesh
to shine its light in vast emptiness.

see the light

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