Clouds

"I've looked at clouds from both sides now, from up and down, and still somehow, it's clouds illusions I recall, I really don't know clouds at all." - Joni Mitchell, Clouds

"One potent metaphor for the Void, often used in Tibetan art, is the sky. As the sky is the emptiness that offers clouds to our perception, so the Void is the 'space' in which objects appear to us in response to our attachments and longings." - Phillip Rawson, Sacred Tibet

Yesterday evening, I watched a gathering thunderstorm as I walked. Having brought along my camera, I began to take pictures of the clouds, slowly, deliberately. These images became the starting point for an exploration of the processes of the mind, to look at the ways in which it constructs meaning, reinforces its own conditioning, and attempts to justify its own existence.



Later, as rain fell outside, I worked with the images on my computer, cropping and mirroring, using pattern and repetition to create fractal heavy mandalas from the original photos. As I continued, striking images emerged, some humorous, some haunting, all demonstrating 'clouds illusions' quite vividly.

From one image, two faces, framed by large curly locks, stared intently into each others eyes. In another, a pair of devilish skulls guard either side of a dark chasm. In a third, a wrathful Tibetan deity looks out at me with googly eyes.

And then I realize, it's all there...and not. It becomes clear that the mind looks for and sees not only anthropomorphic patterns, but also, and more subtly, connects to and reinforces the layers of memory and interpretation that it has already created.



So my conditioned responses tend to see Dio album covers, Franklin Ajaye in the movie Car Wash, Thangka paintings, angry wolves, and, duh, sexual members both positive and negative in form. Depending on the time and place of your existence, you will see what is particular to that experience.

It was a potent realization of the ways in which we as sentient beings take in essentially neutral phenomena, and project onto them our sense of meaning and identity. 'What you see is what you get', right?

Guess again: that is where the Matrix effect kicks in, as the images metaphorically tumble into cascading 1s and 0s, and reality begins to unfold with more clarity. The constant procession and change of the clouds in a blue sky is equivalent to the ongoing mental processes taking place in the mind.




And this vivid demonstration reveals that the 'I' which sees and experiences all of these things is just that, another formation of changing clouds passing through a clear sky.

So...I...let it go... With awareness I can watch these transitory thoughts and images as they rise and fall, seeing them as temporal chatter unfolding against the backdrop of a larger, undefined reality.




It's all an illusion, not in the sense of being fundamentally unreal, but in its incomplete grasp of that reality. And yes, it's a richly immersive illusion at that, but still nothing to be attached to, or held onto for long.

Yes, it seems that I lost my 'self' in the clouds of last nights thunderstorm.

Broke Down in Amarillo

headin' east, the sun behind,
a trail o' smoke kicks up 'n around.
the breeze it's warm, summer's come,
it's Amarillo, and i'm broke down.

((chorus))
broke down in Amarillo,
i'm here w/nothin', nothin' but now.
broke down in Amarillo,
i'll turn the wheel, get out somehow.

met a young brotha', name o' Kevin,
reads the Qur'an, 'n drives a tow truck.
picked up my ride, let me crash at his place,
said "i been there, been down on my luck."

((chorus))

a fella called Nick, so it says on his shirt,
but his name's not Nick i was told.
he's under the hood, changin' the hoses,
will i get to the next round, or will i fold?

((chorus))

my mind is open, it's free and it's empty,
like water moves in a clear running stream.
where to next, where will the flow take me,
on a hot sunny day, in this waking dream?

((chorus))

i am not (prajnaparamita)

i am not this body, these sensations
neither the pleasure, nor the pain

i am not the tender hug, or the sweet smile on your face
neither the ecstatic embrace, nor the first smile of morning

here, the emptiness always unfolding,
in such proximity, yet always just beyond reach

i am not the numbing fatigue, the half-closed eyes
stumbling, somewhere between waking and sleeping

i am not the laughter after the joke
nor the ringing in my ears

again, a sensing of the all expansive,
yet nowhere to be found, no place, no time, no thing

i am not the dull ache of distance and separation
neither the memories, nor the regrets

i am not the racing thoughts of this mind
not the watering in my mouth, nor the scent of a lilac

here, passing through all these experiences
my true self is revealed through what i am not

The Illusion of Separateness

I just got an e-mail from a close relative entitled "Divorce Agreement". It proposes dividing the country up according to ideology and beliefs because, "this relationship has run its course" (i.e. America). On one level, it is interesting how the language of racism evolves, but always keeps the same motivation, i.e. to define the "other", and to maintain a sense of separation from that "other".

In this context the letter states "you are welcome to Islam, Scientology, Humanism and Shirley Maclaine...we'll keep our Judeo-Christian values...we'll keep the capitalism, greedy corporations, pharmaceutical companies, Wal-Mart...". It then descends into a thinly veiled screed against "homeless, homeboys, hippies, and illegal aliens".

At least two things stand out here in sharp contrast. The first being that few of us fall sharply into any one camp of belief or lifestyle. There are gay Christians, Darwinian Hummer drivers, and tree hugging NRA members, scattered like leaven throughout this country. So, to enact such a decree would literally mean severing ourselves into pieces, using the wisdom of Solomon.

The second consideration being that ignorance and divisiveness are tools that propagandists use to weaken and divide a potential threat. Who is it, you may ask, that would want to keep a populace divided against itself? Simply ask yourself who stands to benefit by continuing to undermine the concept this country was founded on, i.e. "We the People".

You can find the answer for yourself. And a hint that no, it's not a Republican or Democratic conspiracy to hold the other side down. To think that is to perpetuate the illusion of separateness. What if the world is not so black and white?

Truthfully, my world becomes more gray each day. I find elements of truth in just about any system, as well as faults and corruption. Within my own context of life experiences I am a descendent of Arkansas hillbilly, Oklahoma dugout born native, taught to think for myself, while influenced by Christian, Hindu, Buddhist spirituality, and dancing to soul, funk, deep south field music with tablas and a Krishna beat.

There is no way to separate out all of that cultural mishmash. Not even Solomon, in all of his wisdom could, or would even want to. So next time I'm out and about, I'll see you at the Chaat stand, standing on a crowded D.F. Metro, sitting at the Zen center, listening to AM radio on a country dirt road, or drinking horchata with my homeboys.

time unto time

lights illuminate a passing landscape
visions, a flood of sensation
a glimpse, a chance, time unto time

i miss you, and have no one to tell
of what was, what is now
and what yet could be

across the desert, the rolling hills
once dunes of an ancient ocean,
dried tears now, endless sunswept plains

there is much still
to work out between us
from lives before on to the next

what little light is fading now
and forms a gradient of
orange to blue to purple to indigo to black

and where are you now
and what are you thinking
and in your heart: love, hate, indifference?

falling now to a dark valley
from end to end without light
but the stars, and endless sky above

Ouroboric Living (Closing the Circle)

I am setting out to deeply explore the cycles of consumption and waste within my own life, using the Ouroboros as a model. The circular image of the serpent devouring it's own tail, ancient symbol of self-contained consciousness, will now be applied to an exploration of the existing cycles of my own activity, in order to raise my awareness, to gain self-suffiency, and to promote a vision of smaller, local, autonomous businesses.

When I consume anything, I want to be aware of where it came from, how it was made, and what it is made of. My goal is to get as close as possible to the source, the method of trade, and what happens when I take it into myself. When I eat an egg, I want it to come, if not directly from under the chicken, then from the farmer who raises the chicken. That way, I can ask them questions about their chickens, and consequently, know more about the egg I'm eating.

To this end, I have begun to read the ingredient lists of everything I consider buying at the store. If there is any ingredient that I don't understand in plain language (i.e. chemical compounds), then I won't buy the product. I look for where the food item is made, in order to buy from local businesses whenever possible.

Some products have moved so far away from their original, natural sources that they are hopelessly entangled in chemical additives. For these, I have begun to make my own versions, from basic ingredients. These include toothpaste, which I now make from baking soda, salt, aloe gel, lemon peel and essential oils, and dish soap, which I have replaced with finely sifted wood ash from my fireplace.

Fresh produce from local farmers is now my first choice when buying fruits and vegetables, and I plan to learn how to garden this spring. When purchasing manufactured goods I look at second-hand options such as craigslist and thrift stores, and want to begin barter exchanges with others. This undercuts the planned obsolescence features that large corporations use to keep us hooked into their cycles of consumption.

Last summer, my son and I furnished our casita completely with good quality finds from the local thrift store for under $150. Our like new sofa came from a neighbor who was moving and didn't want it anymore. The computer I am typing this on (an Apple iBook G4) was purchased from a student for $350 cash.

On the other end, as I consume goods, waste is produced. Although I don't yet know what the city actually does with it, I recycle glass, plastic, metal, and paper, on the hope that it actually is reused. Food waste goes into a compost heap that has begun to provide fertile soil for my plants. Wood and paper scrap that is not recycled goes into the fireplace to help heat our rooms. Then, ash from the fireplace is used to wash the dishes.

Still, there is much that I have not yet addressed. In the area of transportation, I still buy 1-2 tanks of gasoline per month, no doubt produced by a big oil company, for my 1989 Honda Wagovan. I pay my cell phone provider way too much for a service I can probably get for free on the internet. I could find a way to utilize gray water (non-toilet based waste water) from the shower and kitchen sink to water my plants with.

So, this is just a beginning, but where to from here? I envision a world made up of small, independent businesses and individuals, collaborating together in widening circles of trade. A world where disconnected large governmental and corporate structures become irrelevant, because we have quit feeding their endless appetite, and have chosen to do business with real people we can see, know and meet face-to-face. A place where waste products are used and reused to participate again in the wheel of consumption, just as in nature. It is here that the creative cycles of consumption and waste will begin to meet and the circle of the Ouroboros connects.

interconnection (three minutes sitting)

sitting, i am watching my skeleton lying on the ground.
my awareness leaves the skeleton going up to an apple on a tree.
now, i am inside the apple, looking out, a feeling of ripeness about to burst.
and on, inside a pile of fresh fruit at the grocery store.

i move down through the tree to the earth and across its surface.
stopping, inside a blade of young grass, yellow and green,
the warm sun is shining brightly on me.
bursting joyously from the ground, i spring up toward the light.

now i am a cold mountain stream moving rapidly,
over pebbles, rocks, the contours of land.
i see through the eyes of a cow grazing beside the stream.

into the heart of a mountain, solid, metallic stone.
steadiness, time changes and slows in all around me.
whirling in and through the wind now, into and out of many things.

i become a swirling mass of maggots consuming an animal carcass.
gradually, falling to a pile of dirt on the ground, and merging into the earth.
a handful of grass pushes up from this bare spot,
as i transform into buzzing flies, energetically cirling up and around.

the grass becomes a stand of verdant growth beside the stream,
which flows down the mountain, passing beside the apple tree, and on beyond.