Side-tracks

Side-tracks

So often engaged

With our attending

All of those

Editorials 

And commentaries

And sermons..

Of which often

Side-track and delay

That awakening

Transformation

Quiet watching

Of this Now

Which is passing...

Internal ones

Internal ones

With his passing

his jail experience

leaves his Gift..

New focus on

what is inner

what is higher..

He is pointing

to growth paths

and our need

for our own

jail experiences…!

"People tend to measure themselves by external accomplishments, but jail allows a person to focus on internal ones; such as honesty, sincerity, simplicity, humility, generosity and an absence of variety," Mandela says in one of the many quotations displayed at the Apartheid Museum in Johannesburg. "You learn to look into yourself."

The Medium

The Medium

is the Massage
he wrote..
He hinges our
 desperate need 
for introduction
to a new home
in no locality..
Massaging minds
growing our space
technology itself
extends our being..

This hidden realm
surrounds 
each daily grind..
Enter now a
 world wide web
Massaging
 universal expansion
of our space..
Each is becoming
more than before..
Our new home
in no locality…

Prompted by 
Marshall McLuhan's
The Medium is the Massage

Simple practice

Simple practice

Is it really
this simple..?
What are those
practices you use
to remember this
vital Awareness..?
Light and its
filtering..
Light and its
colors..
Oppositions 
and flows..
Polarities in Play
in all of
Life..
Reminders
are key...

Practice Over Theory Meditation 3 of 52

Unless you let the truth of life teach you on its own terms, unless you develop some concrete practices for recognizing and overcoming your dualistic mind, you will remain in the first half of life forever, as most humanity has up to now. In the first half of life, you cannot work with the imperfect, nor can you accept the tragic sense of life, which finally means that you cannot love anything or anyone at any depth. Nothing is going to change in history as long as most people are merely dualistic, either-or thinkers. Such splitting and denying leaves us at the level of mere information. Whole people see and create wholeness wherever they go; split people see and create splits in everything and everybody. We are meant to see in wholes and no longer just in parts. Yet we get to the whole by falling down into the messy parts—so many times, in fact, that we long and thirst for the wholeness and fullness of all things, including ourselves. I promise you this unified field is the only and lasting meaning of up.  Richard Rohr Adapted from Falling Upward: A Spirituality for the Two Halves of Life, pp. 150-151

The horn player

The horn player

He came reluctantly

And backed away

This strange instrument

The complex fingering

Technical paths obscure

Finally from Pushing

He rested..

Then hearing 

A horn Sound

With direction

And no direction

Filling his space..

Dedication renewed

Complexity dissolved

A Pull now

Of horn's beauty..

Push and Pull

Co-creation

A soul engaged

Playing a horn…

This poem inspired by 

Colorado Springs Philharmonic

featured musician

Michael Yopp..

Story by Nicole M Anthony

December 2, 2013

(find with Google)

I am enough

I am enough

A simple

Declaration..

Yet it contains

Hidden gold..

Freedom lives

In I am..

New dimension

No modifiers

Limits cancelled

For this moment..

Enough stands

Against fences..

 I am

Breaths in

New clarity

Fresh air

From a center

Which is

Everywhere...

Our Road

Our Road

Glaucoma had

Covered the earth

And their eyes 

This shadowed matrix..

A Road remained

And a Map

And a Fire within..

They knew now of

A pendulum swing

A vacuum crunch

This black hole..

They had awakened

In their dream..

And with lucidity

Did they recognize

No catastrophe this

Evil was expressed in

This shadowed matrix

Yet born in Light..

Light also issued:

The Road and Map

Each other Entire

Brook trout carrying

A Code of life

Declarations of good

The Mystery..

Thus Our surprise

No catastrophe sudden..

Grounded in life is 

This shadowed matrix..

We might awaken

Knowing at last

Good guys are alive

With hidden Light..

The child found

As each of us must
Love never dies

And in so knowing
Each is the One…

With gratitude for
Cormac McCarthy's
The Road