Two of a Kind


How often
I wonder
do I see the world
distorted by the lens of my past
in colors of jade
edges dulled
contrast fuzzy
like looking through
a dusty kaleidoscope
my mind fitting the broken pieces
in ways that suit
or expectation

Too often
I would guess

Too often


I close my eyes
and see from within
my vain attempts
to correlate the data of my past
with cloudy visions of the future
based on incomplete analysis of the present
influenced by experience
interpreted through illusion
borne from misunderstanding
and think to myself
“No wonder I stumble”

Discover. Now.

Life is all about discovery.

When we are born we discover the most amazing things: the world develops before our very eyes and as we grow it expands as if we, ourselves, are the gods that create it moment by moment.

In our teens we discover complex emotions that threaten our very existence: rage, pain, immense joy and sadness, and, for the very first time, even though we may not recognize it for what it is, Love.

We go through school being taught pointless rhetoric: math, science, history. All the while being taught none of those things that could lead us to deeper paths; mindfulness, loving kindness, compassion. Those are supposed to be taught by our parents. Parents who never learned those things either.

Learn them. They will lead you farther than you imagine.

Later still, we discover that we wished we had learned more of those worthless ideas. Paid closer attention. What was that formula for finding the volume of a circle again? That will come in handy later. I promise you that. So pay attention if you can. But there’s more.

We discover the value of money. Of friendship and of hard work and of possession. We go into the world discovering fine food, good company, bright lights.

Oh… shiney.

Too often people don’t make it past those last discoveries. They base their lives on the hedonistic values of life: a big house, a nice car, good clothes, physical pleasure. Discovery ends. Life has been explored and all that it offers has been found.

Discovery continues despite that belief. Our friends die. Our loved ones leave us. Our investments fail us. We discover loss, suffering, disappointment.

Those discoveries become empty. Meaningless. Superficial. Life becomes meaningless. Emotions become an intolerable consequence. A side effect of life.

If we are insightful, or have a fortunate predilection for it, or have a loved one willing to force our awareness, or we are just plain lucky, or unlucky, we push deeper. Struggle harder to find meaning.

Our path of discovery narrows to two distinct paths: inward or outward.

The outward path leads us to medical discovery. To miracle cures. To pills that end our suffering. To gurus and healers and shaman. The path can branch over and over from here but it always leads us to the discovery of the inward path though very very few can make that transition.

If you find yourself at that transitional fork in your path I hope, I truly hope, you find your way to the inward path. Reach into that place and you will find a hand willing to lead you farther than you ever imagined. I promise you that.

The inward path leads us to ever deeper discovery: understanding, self love, honesty, acceptance, awareness, unity, Love. True Love.

Discoveries that lead us to higher planes of existence. Planes where loss and suffering are accepted as simply a part of life and where the value of a single breath, drawn long and slow while listening to and feeling the beat of our own miraculous heart connect us to the very soul of the Universe, is beyond measure.

What we discover there can never be fully expressed in words but in that place are experiences outside the realm of comprehension and yet understood as if we were once again children creating, moment by moment, the very fabric of our own distinct, yet combined, reality.

My wish for you is this:

Continue your journey. Never cease in your struggle of discovery, because even further beyond that point lay infinity: a point of chaotic generation and regeneration of life where the distance between infancy and eons are but fractions of moments of the life of a single drop of moisture on a spiders web and all that we have discovered between birth and true life, the life that always awaits, that bekons and welcomes all, are a single reflection on the surface of that dew that shimmers a while before dropping into an endless ocean that rises as mist to condense on the web over and over again.

In that chaos of constant re-creation resides the Divine where She rests on this, the Seventh Day, with arms wide and welcome, to bring us into Her embrace.

It is a place of constant discovery and awe and wonder where a word as simple and complex as “Love” or “Gratitude” can define our very existence.

Though I tend to speak of it in terms of enlightenment and higher planes of consciousness it is not some mythical place reached only through lifetimes of deep meditation and study. It does not require the use of psychoactive compounds or healers or teachers.

It is here.

It is Now.

It awaits your discovery.

Close your eyes and breathe.


Image: “Infinity” by Tue Bengsston

There is a place

There is a place
Where feelings
are as solid as a tangerine
and just as sweet
Where the warm breeze
on an autumn noon
cools salty skin
with the whispered voice of nymphs
Where the sound of the owl
blends with the melody of trees
and crickets
and laughing children
like a chorus
Where the scent of wild lavender
and citrus
and ancient oaks
that stretch beyond the endless horizon
can be tasted on the air
Where the senses are so keen
that the march of an ant
is heard above the roar of a plane
the breath of a bird
becomes a song
the beating hearts
and working legs
of a caterpillar
tap out staccato beats
as it crunches on a leaf

Where the passing of time
is controlled by will
to keep the sun and moon

It is a place
where the touch of my lover
is like the hand of God herself
and her kisses
are each a blessing

I am in that place



Image: “Lucid” by Ozan Vural

Here, Now

Not in a way defined
by philosophy memorized
or recited
Not through some blind faith
in something
someone else

I’ve forgotten
all I’ve read
Left behind
words read
lines memorized
to lay
in the Heart of Love
and the arms of my Beloved

True faith
and Hope
hold me
keep me in this place
where all that exists
is what I allow
and she
is the only influence



Image: “Neptune” by Justin Morrison


Rain Day



It’s raining outside. Pouring, actually. Flash floods. The fan in my truck has stopped working. I bought a little 12 volt fan to plug into the outlet but it is nearly useless. The windows fog so much that I can nearly wring out the towel I use to keep them clear.

I find a place to park. A little coffee shop downtown called Serda’s. It’s your typical hipster café though maybe a little more uptown. Leather couches barely a year old instead of the usual second hand store leftovers. Tile floors. High ceilings. Urban music, the same you hear in coffee shops from coast to coast, plays softly. The place is non-descript. Middle of the road. Harmless.

The wi-if is fast. The coffee is good.

There is a middle aged business couple to my left. Happy to not be drinking alcohol as they get to know each other. They are obviously trying to get to know each other. She is dressed in business clothes. Has a nice rain coat. He is wearing khaki shorts and a polo. His day off. Not hers. His foot rests on the crossbar of the high barstool she sits on. He speaks with his hands just enough to touch her often. She smiles when he does. They will each go home alone but with hope.

The couple to my right, young and enthusiastic about a business venture, collaborate on a web page. They focus on the logo. She plays with her hair. He absent mindedly puts his stylus in his mouth. She is holding back. Left leg over right. His feet are both planted firmly on the ground. He plays with his long beard. They laugh.

The woman at the window, a massive textbook open in front of her, does her homework. Stares out the window. Dreams of how her life might be when she graduates. Wonders if it will be worth it. It will be.

A young man across the room has EarPods jammed into his head which rocks gently as he plays on his phone. Another taps away one-handed while he texts. Another, more engrossed, furiously stabs with the thumbs of both hands.

I sit and drink a double cappuccino vanilla (dry, of course, there is no better way to enjoy cappuccino) and witness this small grouping of humanity. Safe from the rain. Out of the humidity. I watch their hands. Their eyes. Mouths. Their movements. Their silence. And I wonder.

What do these people have in common aside from a taste for expensive coffee in a trendy cafe?

I close my eyes for a second and look back in time, If I look back far enough I can see connected relatives. The woman and man to my left come from the same ancestor as the young man to my right. If I look farther back I see that those people came from the same family of amphibian that first crawled from the sea. The same bacteria that, through some bizarre molecular hiccup, became something more than bacteria. If I look back even further I can see that everyone here, everything here, the chairs, walls, coffee, even the air, all came from a singularity. The entire universe compressed to the point that it could no longer support its condensed self and explodes into trillions of trillions of trillions of tiny pieces that hurtle through an ever expanding void of darkness. We are literally star stuff.

How could I ever feel alone, ever feel singled out, ever wonder if there was something more to life, knowing this?

The thumb tapper is gone. The head rocker remains as does the daydreaming student.

The young couple to my right finish their business. Hug uncomfortably at the door. Go opposite directions when they step outside.

The middle aged couple will be here long after I’m gone. I silently wish them luck.

I will stay long enough to post this and then drive home.

Home. What a beautiful word.