Wednesday, June 18, 2025
still and still moving
Tuesday, June 10, 2025
Sunday, June 8, 2025
the love is to the lover, and comes back most to him
2
Whoever you are! motion and
reflection are especially for you,
The divine ship sails the
divine sea for you.
Whoever you are! you are he
or she for whom the earth is solid
and liquid,
You are he or she for whom
the sun and moon hang in the sky,
For none more than you are
the present and the past,
For none more than you is
immortality.
Each man to himself and each
woman to herself, is the word of
the past and present, and the true word of
immortality;
No one can acquire for
another—not one,
Not one can grow for
another—not one.
The song is to the singer,
and comes back most to him,
The teaching is to the
teacher, and comes back most to him,
The murder is to the
murderer, and comes back most to him,
The theft is to the thief,
and comes back most to him,
The love is to the lover, and
comes back most to him,
The gift is to the giver, and
comes back most to him—it cannot
fail,
The oration is to the orator,
the acting is to the actor and actress
not to the audience,
And no man understands any
greatness or goodness but his own,
or the indication of his own.
3
I swear the earth shall
surely be complete to him or her who shall
be complete,
The earth remains jagged and
broken only to him or her who
remains jagged and broken.
Saturday, May 17, 2025
at the core of delusion
This unexamined self feels like an isolated, self-sufficient, permanent individual,
Looking closely, I also see that I’m not a self-contained, entirely independent individual.
Even at the most basic level of existence, I did not arise as a spontaneous,
When we conduct our lives as though, all evidence to the contrary, we are separate,
This mistaken sense of self arises as a solidified set of beliefs about who we are
Letting go of the false sense of self feels liberating, like being released from a claustrophobic prison
We might call this fluid inter-being an “open self,” one that is more sensitive
Wednesday, May 14, 2025
gate A-4
Saturday, May 10, 2025
effortlessly
Saturday, March 29, 2025
behind all this,
Sunday, March 23, 2025
finding a deep, pure and gentle sympathy with others
Tuesday, March 18, 2025
the sail just needs to open
Twelve Sacred Voices from the East and West
Tuesday, March 4, 2025
one winter afternoon
(at the magical hour
when is becomes if)
a bespangled clown
standing on eighth street
handed me a flower.
Nobody,it’s safe
to say,observed him but
myself,and why?because
without any doubt he was
whatever(first and last)
mostpeople fear most:
a mystery for which i’ve
no word except alive
—that is,completely alert
and miraculously whole;
with not merely a mind and a heart
but unquestionably a soul-
by no means funereally hilarious
(or otherwise democratic)
but essentially poetic
or ethereally serious:
a fine not a coarse clown
(no mob, but a person)
and while never saying a word
who was anything but dumb;
since the silence of him
self sang like a bird.
Mostpeople have been heard
screaming for international
measures that render hell rational
—i thank heaven somebody’s crazy
enough to give me a daisy