every object, every belief, every opinion.
to become clear, like the reflection in a mirror.
an empty vessel, in all ways free,
with gratitude for all, and nothing as my guide.
- - - - - - - - - -
Working in a hospital as an orderly. A helicopter drops through the roof, and a team gets out, unloading three clear bins of organ transplants, floating in water. They set them on a bed. I clearly see a heart in one bin, still beating, and note that it is alive. Doctors come into the room and push me down the hallway, closing the doors. Walking further down the hall, I see Dustin Hoffman, playing a character who has lost the top half of his head and all of his brain. He is gesturing at me as though he wants to talk. I then realize that this is a movie, and that I am playing a role. (early July)
- - - - - - - - - -
I watch Billy Bob Thornton in cut-off jeans flirting with an attractive woman. He is unkempt and hasn't shaved in days. He drops down on all fours, scampering away down the median of a road, looking back to urge the girl to come along with him. (July)
- - - - - - - - - -
I am on the wing of a plane that is flying thousands of feet above the earth. Upside down, I cling to the wing, without concern for the greatness of height. I climb into the cabin through a broken window, and find myself in the company of other fliers, about 5 Latin men with aviator goggles. We each grab at and pass around sheet music, which is blown about by the wind passing through the cabin, and once settled began to sing "Special Lady" by Ray, Goodman and Brown. (mid July)
- - - - - - - - - -
In an SUV, driving another gallery owner to the airport, I realize that I am sitting in the backseat with her, and that the vehicle is driving itself. As we are about to pass under a bridge, I see a plane on the runway above, then look out at the highway and marvel that we are going straightways along it. Becoming concerned that no one is behind the wheel, I lean forward, stretching my body until I am in control. Then, the traffic becomes unpredictable, and I am forced to steer off the road, as large rocks begin to congest the highway. Steering with precision, I maneuver around the boulders, while also avoiding the chaos of the other drivers. (mid July)
- - - - - - - - - -
Driving an old beat up pickup truck in West Texas. My dad is riding in the passenger seat. We travel over rolling hills, coming to a landfill. I realize it is the wrong path, and put the truck into reverse, then turn onto another road. It is a steep hill, which overlooks the city at its top. I realize I am dreaming, and gun the truck over the hill, flying into the air. Suddenly, the truck is gone, and I am flying in the open air. (early August)
- - - - - - - - - -
Fighter planes flying low, pursuing helicopters. Machine guns strafing the ground in my direction. Running into a grove of trees, I step into a hole in a large cedar. Inside it is open and expansive, its smooth walls the size of a house, and forms a refuge from the conflict. (early August)
It had been many months since we last spoke, and yet I remember the light in his eyes, even as his body began to tire of the struggle. "Hitler gave special protection to the monks there", he said, "even as he catalogued their works for seizure".
It was then I thought of how good and evil were so limiting as concepts in describing our experiences on this plane. I could equally vilify either the antibodies or the newly malignant cells and their relentlessness, or marvel at how they have now become points of departure for the kindness in his voice or the lack of fear at what lies next.
All I know is that I don't want him to go, and yet I also realize this is selfish, that we can't hold back one who is ready for that next step. And how could I blame him? In these existences, marked as they are by suffering, why should one not be ready to jettison them?
Looking into his eyes, I saw compassion and acceptance growing like wildflowers, even now spreading to overtake the conflict and turmoil they live among. Before leaving I held him, and felt the brevity of our lives on this plane. In those few seconds, I wanted to learn and feel all that he felt and to see the world through those same eyes.
It then dawned on me that these moments are sacred, even as they are almost immediately swept out from under us. And more than anything else, there was an underlying gratitude, not anger toward any imagined cause of his body's suffering. Gratitude that the flesh and blood we inhabit gives us the opportunity to experience such things as this.
each time you let go, the freedom is illusive.
and so, you can't help but to try again.
experience itself is the truest teacher.
every time an end, and you're coming back into this body.
there is no solid ground with us.
that is the nature of this, always flowing, always moving.
running for so long, and for what, from that which cannot be escaped.
distraction only works for so long.
what to do, when none of this feels real.
pushing against what is possible to express.
i trust the validity of my experiences.
they give me insight into reality.
this basic truth is accessible to all.
when i slow down and observe life, i become aware.
with this awareness, existing power structures no longer matter, be they social, political, or religious.
this includes those that i have constructed inside my own mind.
they tell me to be fearful for my soul, my freedom, my reputation.
i realize that these are only words to reinforce an outdated sense of self.
beyond that, there is an expansiveness that envelopes all.
it is still, quiet, and yet more powerful than any weapon made by human hands.
musky scent of fresh rain falls / fresh yet pungent too /earth calling us to itself. (04.15.11)
outside of time, we haven't yet been born, and we're already dead...from that perspective, what becomes most important right now? (04.14.11)
so many faces, so many expressions of reality, so many directions we throw ourselves in, connections all. some more distant, others so near, all in ebb and flow. (04.11.11)
The only hells that exist are the ones we create for ourselves and others. (04.04.11)
brisk feeling in the air, diffused light glowing on the landscape, birds calling in the trees, a fleeting limnal state all. (03.30.11)
The material world presents itself to us in oppositional terms. So those who work really hard at being peaceful, are usually the ones who are the most turbulent on the inside. Yeah Randall, I'm talkin' about you. (03.24.11)
When I'm taking long road trips, I come up with so many cool FB status posts while out on the road...pithy, meaning laden quotes. By the time I actually log onto FB, they're all gone, vanished back into the muse. (03.22.11)
lying in the pool, looking up, i saw a flock of birds gliding aimlessly on the currents of wind, many hundreds of feet up in the clear blue sky. later, in the evening we saw them gliding in to nest for the evening...a flock of huge, graceful vultures. (03.19.11)
(( wild abandon )) (03.11.11)
so grateful that there is love, to give and to receive. (03.03.11)
compassion for those trapped in the service of death
dismantle from the bottom up
only you can imprison your own heart
last moments of the dying ego
cynicism is the easy way out
those with the most power are the most fearful
i will never be a corporate brand
love embracing all existence
one moment of clarity
all is possible with nothing left to lose
discarding that which no longer works
true strength lies not in oppression
the darkness, it holds no fear to me
knowing it so well through
all these years and lives untold.
embracing, pressed so close
as to take into myself
no self, it matters not.
stumbling now, without balance
down, spiralling downward
empty and free of hope.
past countless imagined apparitions,
demons and afflictions, no power they
for to them, the same as to i.
and to you i say, be not alone
rather take me, take me there with you
reach and find me there, deep into the black.