The Fluid Of The Air

There were downpours last night,

The patter of swollen drops

On leaves and the absorbent earth.

The guttering dripped intermittently

And sung me back to sleep.

This morning, when I step outside,

The garden accepts me

Inside itself,

Merges me wholly

With the rain-heavy air,

Easy on the breath

And dampening like a sodden blanket.

Bird calls are shrill in the moistness

As if the lubricated air

Conveyed sound more easily.

The separation between things

Is altered and healed

As though my senses,

Conducted by the closeness of molecules,

Reach far beyond

What I might call the body.

Where once there was dry air, the sky,

And things existing in it,

Now there is one fluid medium

Where all things touch.

The boundaries of bark and stem,

Feathered skin or the insects chitinous

Exoskeleton are as porous

As the canopy of the overarching tree.

And the osmosis between

Is a luxuriant movement,

Energy’s transient enquiry,

Unconcerned by the names of things

And free to pass between,

Free to roam

A borderless and singular being.

The Great River

I lie back

In the great river,

Its warm waters

Lapping at my cheek,

My chin and my forehead.

The great liquid of the world

Holds me with a tenuous grip,

Perhaps only a nudge

Upon a gently idling whirlpool.

My chest holds my heart to the sun

And I am open as a child

Yet to learn.

There is sunshine on my thoughts

And eyes, closed

For the meandering of the heart

And wisdom’s language,

Subtle as the currents

Baring me.

I am alive in trust,

Surrendered to the water’s movement,

Guided by it,

Content to be borne

Where its great waters will.

Falling Into Nothing

I lean back

And fall into nothing,

Released from the world

So various

And swallowed

So the tight knot of ideas,

Beliefs and concrete thoughts

That I called myself,

Melts away

Until I am naked

But for my essential self,

Zeroed in formlessness.

When I return,

Pick up my thoughts,

They are loose upon my back,

Less important

Than the warmth of love

Irrigating my being,

And somehow charged

By the seeing.

I am reborn in myself

As myself,

Free in my body

And free in my mind.

Where else but nowhere,

Being nothing but being,

Can you be free

Of the entanglements

Of the physical world?

Really, That Simple?

Is it really

As simple

As remembering love,

Acknowledging

The love in being

And that being is love?

Is it as simple

As turning one’s head,

Looking inward

To the source

And seeing

That source is love?

Is it that simple

To notice the beautiful

Hidden before your eyes,

Hidden in plain sight,

Love at your centre

Brimming where it has always dwelt,

Love waiting with open arms

For you to see

And be one

With your heart,

Finally coming home

To the home you already are?

Love Fills

I am lifted upon a cloud

As light as love

As playful and transient

As love,

Making no mark upon the world

But indelible significance.

For what else lifts us

In the body?

What else

Conveys the clouds,

Makes the moon the delicious moon

And the sun magnificent?

Even when we are down,

Crowded by thoughts,

Living beaten

By the throng of our thinking,

Still we are lifted

And still we are born

In the world and of the world,

Love in everything

Despite our tenacious denial.

How long can we hold

To absence, and the idea

Of heartless universe?

A lifetime, perhaps?

Or perhaps,

There is instantaneous recognition

That loves fills

And always has.

In The Feeling

In the feeling

All that was future

And past

Is gathered

To the beautiful, unfolding now.

You,

Withdrawn from scattered self

With eyes only for the world

And the things in it,

Are returned inward

To yourself,

Finding that you are whole

As you have always been,

And full of love

For every wrong turn

That lead you to the truth.

Never were you parted

Never were you alone

Never were you distant

From wisdom’s place

And the heart song

Singing

Life’s simple authenticity.

You are the outpouring of self,

Fresh and new and crisp

To the world

And joyous

In the living of it.

Love

Love sees you

Dwelling shameful,

Harbouring secret thoughts

Too ugly to own,

And puts its hand upon your shoulder,

Turns your face

Towards the sun

And whispers

‘You are not alone in this

For I hold all in warmth,

And all your shameful thought

Is but a heavy weight

You need not lug about

Nor even believe.

Come out

From the shadow of your thinking,

There is no weight in love

Only fullness

Of the heart absolved

And the infinite wealth

Of joyous being.’

The Wealth

Not one of us

Upon the earth

Is anything less

Than the whole sun

Shining in being,

Illuminated in the endless wealth

Emerging from the formless realm,

The nothing and the nameless,

Our infinite self

Ever at our finger tips,

Infinitely Infinite and infinitely free.

It is only our crowded thoughts,

Straight-jacketing us rigid.

Gripping us to an idea

Of a drought-ridden self,

Stiff within our skin

And so hopelessly lonely,

That thinks us

Thought-severed from the Source,

And made bleak as a separate entity.

And yet, those thoughts separating

Are but tenacious thoughts,

Combined, conjoined, layered,

Believed, stiffened, judged

And felt solid enough to be real,

Each one hiding us from the truth:

That universal love

Is the absolute fundament of our nature:

The life force propelling,

Filling us up,

Upholding the fleeting entities

We call our selves,

Buoying us

Even when we deny we out buoyed.

Not one of us

Is anything less

Than the soul

That is all,

The one,

The only one,

The love emanating from Source

Becoming something,

Ever unfolding as the form-ful manifest.