Of headless writing:
it’s that words appear, and somehow completely on their own, gifted in a very true way. My role is easy, simply waiting, typing out phrases that arrive, trusting that they will. It seems they always do. This is the way of headless writing, of first seeing how…
Writing happens:
my commitment has been to put words on the page, to write everyday, without a miss. Yet it’s not a vow I made to myself, not even a practice really. It’s a joy. Writing is the moment of my surrender, of not knowing the next word that may…
No authentic self:
what I find is that there is no authentic self, not for me at least, but that presence alone is true, and in every sense my reality. Of course the term presence is open to interpretation and here I’ll define it as openness, a spaciousness that allows…
it’s the body that’s enlightened, aware to the present moment of breath and heartbeat, awake in its connection to earth, air, and star, empty of any true form, and yet…
It’s the body that’s enlightened:
it’s the body that’s enlightened, an intelligence of parts in seamless function as the whole, cooperation of cells to molecules, and further still to the atoms of its existence. …
That I’m aware:
there’s no need to make this more than what’s found right now, that I’m aware…no, not quiet so, certainly there’s presence, and thoughts appearing that I claim to be my own, but it’s all far too seamless to make distinctions of a self separate from the experience…
it’s love without effort- and too we could call this simply reality, the Tao, or even God. In the end these are terms with great meaning attached to something that occurs as naturally as breath or heartbeat. Seen as love, it comes to one thing giving way to another aspect…
At home here:
it’s to let any thought be at home here, no wish to chase it back to silence — that whatever’s present is allowed its free expression. I am uncensored in creativity, unconcerned by thoughts passing, and everything is entertained not by value, but by presence alone. …
As if alone…
We wish for distant
hands.
Yet even walls are embraced
by the space they seek to
part.
We stand as walls before
the night…
Caressed on every…
Simply don’t know:
because I simply don’t know — and with this I’m not agnostic, refuting labels of any sort, as none apply to the reality of my experiences and situation. What I’m lacking are words, a description of what I feel is absolutely so in every moment, true, but…
