I tentatively dip a toe into the Water
of another way of seeing.
I catch a glimpse of Mystery, and of values other
than the ones that fuel my daily life.
“This is real,” I sense inside my soul,
“This is how things truly are.”

I remove my toe and enjoy
the lingering sensation,
then return my attention
to the conditioned habits
that keep the world in chaos:
Self-protection, self-improvement,
pursuit of comfort, avoidance of discomfort,
knee-jerk rants and fearful imaginings
that the world I know is disappearing.

An awareness is slowly dawning that:
Of course it’s disappearing!
It has to disappear!
It is fundamentally flawed
and can’t be fixed!

So much of human spirituality is like this.
We tap into the Greater World and look for something
we can bring back to make this mess a little neater.
“We have to patch things up,” we say,
“we have to save the world.”
But we might just be wrong,
despite the seeming virtue of the words.
Perhaps we’re unconsciously simply trying
to keep our assumptions going one more generation.
I’m starting to believe that the mess
must be swept away completely,
and be replaced by the really Real.
The world we think we want to build,
cannot be built by any effort on our part.
It already exists, but must be found
by new eyes and new perceptions.

Each day I’m wading in a little further
and staying there a little longer –
up to my knees on some occasions!
Visionaries are not those who reach for outer space,
or dream of castle-cities on a hill.
The vision that we need is something else,
not possible to capture in current forms or words.
I can’t describe it.
Knee-deep is not enough.
Some day, I hope – I really, truly, hope
that I will take a deep, deep breath
and dive, and swim, and there remain,
and keep the windows of perception open wide.

Yoo-Hoo World!

Alan Watts, once said,
“You are something the whole world is doing.”

Just as the sea “waves,”so does the Cosmos.
“I” am just the Cosmos waving
a great big “Yoo-hoo!” to everything that is.
If a wave could form an ego, it might say,
“I am different, other, than those waves around me.
I am bigger, smaller, faster, slower, longer lasting.”
This ego-wave would start to worry.
as he sees the shore approaching;
his fellow waves are crashing, pounding,
spending themselves upon the land.
What is he to do?
Resist the tidal pull and hold himself in place?
Turn back to sea?

Here’s the mistake that I have made.
(We all, I think, have made.)
I have separated myself from everything;
and viewed the world as something “other,”
then turned around and built a “me”
entirely from the things this world provides.
So this “me” is held in place
by a process of endless comparison
between the things that have become “me”
and the things (and people) that are not “me.”

A sense of self is, they say, essential to humanity.
They may be right, but what tragedy arises
when we mistake (and we always do)
a sense of self for something real.
This self-identity is useful,
but completely fictional,
and filled with problems.

If who I think I am depends
entirely on things that I believe are something other,
I can never, ever, be content;
for these things are always changing,
morphing, coming, going, fading, ending.
Other people are locked in being “other,”
and my longing for belonging never truly
finds its satisfaction.

A certain wisdom comes
from knowing my relationship with things.
A greater wisdom comes,
from knowing that I AM these things
and that THESE THINGS are me.
I want to hold “my self” so gently in my open palm,
that the boundaries fade and finally disappear,
and I can fly into the open sky
and return to being All of This again.

I am simply the cosmos looking through these eyes,
and calling out a big, “Yoo-hoo!” to everyone.

My Old Friend

The seasons do more than simply change,
here in my mountain home.
Spring is giving way to summer, but each time round
now brings a subtle signal that all is not well
with the world that I have always known.
Each summer is hotter, dryer, and longer.
Each spring and fall are shorter.
Each winter brings less snowfall.

There are micro-cycles and macro-cycles
in the ever flowing Way of life.
The micro-cycles I can flow with.
The macro-cycles are more difficult.
Each, of course, is circling according to its nature.

Just as I wish my body were still forty-five,
so I wish the Earth were still the
gentle, healthy, and dependable self it used to be.
But we are both changing, my old friend Earth and I.
Neither of us can go back to what we were.
We can only go ahead to what we will become.

It won’t be the same will it, my friend?
We are both going somewhere we have never been before.
I can’t save you and keep you as you used to be,
nor can you save me and keep me as I was.
But we can both take comfort
from our long friendship,
When I finally return to be with you
in union once again, we will go on
and find out together what is next.
Thank you, my old friend.


The perception of my conditioned mind
is a constricted narrow thing,
a set of sensory inputs fitting within
a carefully crafted interpretation.

The Milky Way, for instance,
an all-to-seldom seen celestial display,
to my unaided eye is indeed a milky thing,
a blur across the sky.

On a clear night, however,
with only a set of binoculars to aid my vision,
the splash of milk becomes an exuberant array.
Pin points of light by the thousands fill my field of view,
and if I let my mind unguard its gates a moment,
Wonder fills the space within me.

By the time I write these words about it,
the Wonder is a lingering memory, hardly felt
amidst the daily thoughts that seem right now
as numerous as the stars themselves.
The memory, however, remains
and I know beyond all doubt
that the Wonder of it all is Real,
and these daily thoughts are small and transient illusions.

Lotus in the Mud

A person in pain does not need philosophy.
Philosophy keeps us safe, we think.
We do not want to wail and weep,
so instead we philosophize and say,
“there must be answers somewhere, somehow,
help me, please, to find them.”
And philosophers in their towers ponder
and fill shelves with their learned tomes
that bring no help to anyone.
Is there an answer anywhere
that can bring an end to sorrow?

When sorrow comes, it’s best to wail and weep.
If one can wail and weep with others, even better.
Don’t try to find the answers.
Let the sorrow fill you to the brim and overflow,
but when the sorrow passes, let it go.
It will return, and pass again,
and return again, and pass again.
Each time it returns, greet it gently,
“Hello sorrow, I recognize you.
Come on in. You are welcome here.
Let us weep together.”

Time passes and it drops in less and less,
and eventually simply goes by on the path
and nods a greeting as it passes.
In the meantime compassion sprouts and grows
and soon it fills our hearts completely.
It is in the muddy soil of pain
that the seeds of true compassion spring.
As a teacher wisely said,
“The mud is in the Lotus,
the Lotus is in the mud.”

The Way is “Wu”

In this divided world, how does one take action
without opposing, judging,
and trying always to fix the others?
Getting “them” to behave as I would wish
by argument, shame, or force of law
is futile.
When polarities exist
(and in the world of form they always do)
we must move and act in another way,
and that “way” is “wu.”

“Wu-wei,” the Tao Te Ching reveals,
is an effortless way of living
that does not let the poles demand
a response of either “this,” or, “that.”
It is another way of being.
“Wu” means “not”
and “Wei” means “action, doing.”
So, “not doing, doing” is the way.

Sounds crazy, no?
But in our crazy world there is but one way out
and that, “wei” is “wu.”
Authentic action flows and slaloms its path
along a course of least resistance,
never constellating the polarities to such a degree
that suffering and resistance drag us down.

So I don’t attack the problem.
I sit and wait, and watch, and open
that part of my mind that does not think or problem-solve,
but simply sees with clarity, with ease,
and without urgency, without attachment.
The “wei” reveals itself, and surprise!
It also does itself.

And that “wei” that does itself is “wu.”