The Yoga Of Friendship

Dearest friend

I could sit in the silence of our being

And dwell satisfied

In the knowledge

That we are joined in the heart of our life,

For our friendship

Is not based on superfluous traits

But deep seated

And deep rooted

And deep found

In the beginnings of our self

Where we are one:

One, to the exclusion of other,

One, to the exclusion of else,

Simply and only one,

Where friendship is shared

And where all that seemed separate

Is found to be joined

And all that seemed divided

Is unified and whole.

When The Universe Speaks

When the universe speaks

There is a flow of happiness

For in its voice is wisdom

Saying: please join the great river of joy

Ever flowing outward,

Like mildest breath of fresh air

Come to lighten us.

In this, all mens’ hearts are one,

All womens’ hearts are one,

All hearts inconceivably connected.

And even the fractious mind

Busy conceptualising everything separate

Is not shunned or shamed,

But invited.

And even this is untruth

For busy mind is but love conscripted,

Love’s energy veiled.

For what could exist

Outside everything?

Who in God is beyond

The infinite?

Where is this outside,

This place cut off

And separated from the wholeness?

What wholeness could wholeness be

If there was another in the realm?

And where else would we look for wholeness,

But in wholeness,

There being nothing but

Its infinity in which to be?

Stacking Logs

A winter sun

Glimmers pale

Through leafless branches

Alive with liquid dew buds,

And under a mackerel sky

I put myself to stacking wood.

From the store

I load an armful

And carry it to the pile beside my front door,

Savouring the woodsmoke air

Impregnated with birdsong.

Logs chime when they’re ready:

Knock two together and hear the clink

Of the summer’s drying maturation.

I stack the logs,

Throwing them together in a rough fit.

There’s the scent of twisting smoke again,

Sweet as warm-hearthed living.

I separate the smaller pieces for kindling,

Reworking the rest

Into a collage depiction of a fragmented trunk,

The grain of years encircling me.

A patch of light breaks through

And wets the leaves of an ornamental plant,

Unveiling the lingering touch

Of the vapour-breath night.

Once again, to the log pile

Where I find a hibernating wasp

Torpid in a fibrous crack.

I set its home aside,

Mindful of its sleeping potential.

Another load hugged,

Rough and calloused

To my fingertips.

Each piece

The perfect wholesome weight,

A measure of reality’s depth,

And warming my heart

Even before the spark has caught,

For the flame of life

Burns vigorous,

Ablaze in my heart

And the heart that is the world:

Life burns vibrantly bright

In everything,

In simply everything.

We Are One

I wish to share the truth

That we’re not separate,

And that the feeling of separation

Is purely hoax,

A myth upon the mind

Played by the mind:

The mind swallowing its own lie.

What it means

Is that this warm heart inside my chest

Is your warm heart,

And that the being we are

Is one beautiful being

Holding us in its arms,

Cradling us

Feeding us the gift of life.

The love I feel

Is the same love

Blossoming inside yourself,

The exact same taste

Of infinite being.

We are one in this,

And knowing that the root

Of our life

Is the same root

From which all draw sustenance,

Means we can go free inside our personalities,

Move easy in our bodies,

Express our individuality to its fullest,

And be wholly ourselves.

What Is This Love?

What is this love

That firms the heart’s placement

And allows the lower guts

A secure knowing I,

For it speaks

Not in words

But in certainties,

Like deep roots

On which feelings

Draw support

For the body’s gross material.

And here there is knowing

That first in the world

Is the evergy body,

Like a current in the energy sea

In which all things are but component,

A dancing trace of a self

More nymph or laughter of light

Frequencing high, high, high

As electric thought

Transmitted.

This unshadowed being,

Swiftest eddie of soul untied,

Is our truth

Before the body,

Our elemental self

Free in the zest of freedom’s whole,

Free energy

Illuminating itself

Within itself,

Playfulness playing free

In all being,

The you before

Condensation in to form,

The lightest you

Unformed, unclothed and unprecipitated.

I Call Them Home

I call all my wants home

For each is like a hungry dog

Pulling hard on a rope,

Salivating

With the scent

Of satisfaction:

A dog’s belief

That things in the world

Can fulfil

Happiness.

I call them all:

The multitudes, the horde,

The ravenous pack – ever unfulfilled,

And whisper gently to them:

Sleep here by the fireside.

In my flame is the universal

– Burning without fuel

But for the fuel of the everlasting self.

Dine here

Where there is abundance

In sweet cornucopia.

Feed on that which is eternal

And drink from the ever brimming cup.

Do not look upon the world

For sustenance,

For it has nothing to give:

Look only to offer it love.

Love’s Resonance

Truth is sweet upon my tongue

When I speak

From the loving perspective.

It’s as if the world warms

And expands,

Envelopes all in a delightful oneness,

A magic sprung for the heart’s

Open portal to the Word beyond.

And what of ownership?

There is none but God’s silence

Percolating and infusing

First the body,

Then the outer world,

Reaching to all infinity,

His space rightly claimed.

Truth is like honey on the tongue,

Sweeter for sharing,

Sweeter still in the expanding moment,

Wholly overwhelming

Like an encompassing wave,

And bringing all to love’s resonance.

Gift

I dropped into myself

Settling into stillness,

Falling deeper

And ever deeper

Until I touched the reverent moment

And disappeared.

And now I rise

Back into the body,

Up, up, up and up

Into the world,

Wet and frictionless as a new born

As if my slick skin

Were a lung

And could drink

The divine osmosis,

Every molecule freely interchanged,

Undone in form,

Beautiful and borderless.

Oh, how warm

Have I come clothed in nakedness,

How touched

I am;

Come home

From home

To home,

As if when I drank from myself

The whole universe

Became a vast and comfortable blanket

That I did not drag

Upon my back

But which bore me

As though a wave of lightest medium

Harnessed me to its being

And brought me surging,

And painted gleaming new.

And so,

What thing I am,

What movement in which I move

Is bowed

To lowest bended knee,

And from the eyes

Tears stream

In bountiful gladness,

Lubricating the offering

I offer whole and entirely:

My heart held out

In the palm of my hand

As a gift to you,

My love,

A gift for you.

Looking Deep

Looking deep

Inside myself,

I find things

In all degree of

Colourful multitude.

But who sees those things,

And from which vantage

Are they lit

And wholly perceived?

And so I turn around

And face the formless face of myself,

The placeless place

Lacking evidence

Of all but being’s

Un-identity.

Am I really nothing

But the looking,

But the seeing,

But the loving

Which loves itself

And loves

As a star illuminates?

For with each glance

The scent of something comes

Which fills my heart,

And when I see the love pass

I look again into nothing

And yet again

I am fulfilled.

And then, not dwelling,

I lift my eyes from the love

Which became alive,

Glance once more

To that which I cannot perceive

And look…….

Wonder In The One

Wonder lust

In the ever opening eye,

Wider with each glimpse

Of the infinite,

Broader

With its ephemeral taste.

Oh, how I am caught

By allure,

Drawn ever deeper

And called ever on,

Wiling to give my all,

My wholeness

My life

My love,

Hold back

Not a single drop,

Give it up,

Until I have none

Until I am undone

Until I am one.