This is it. Your life. Everything depends on it. Everything. The way you play, play by the rules. Or not. The choices you make, don’t make, make again. You can pass go, get out of jail free, anything you want, but you play this game as if your life depends on it. It does. It depends on how you play. Because if you are wanting to get the most out of it, you’ll be needing to put the most into it. So play, play with every fibre of your being, with indelible grace and unparalleled intention, deep passion, humor, and as many mistakes as possible. And love. Especially love. That’s how you win, you see. Love.
When you come to your senses, put down your defenses, habits, cover: I-won’t-show-you-mine-if-you-won’t-show-me-yours, ‘Everything is F.I.N.E.,’ (fucked up, insecure, neurotic and emotional), like traveling in a car, stopping at the drive-through, throwing leftovers in the back, you keep moving, trash piling up, rotting, just over your shoulder. And forgetting it’s there, get used to the smell, the festering of mind, farting from the back seat, but the moment you slow down, put on the brakes, everything comes flying forward, French fries, fish sticks, uneaten hamburger and half-downed cokes, McCrap on the dash board, in the windshield, wreckage of your past, so thick you’re blind. Kharma, like mud, obscuring your view. You have to clean up, if you’re going to proceed, get your life, have your day in the freaking sun. You’ve got to unload, get a grip, a view of the road, without all this drama, garbage, making the way unclear, it’s clearly in the way. And because it’s in the way, it is the way. The giving up, the surrender to, the letting in letting go, releasing, a panorama where there were once blinders, hell, no view at all. Pick it up, every smelly bit, examine it and highlight for deletion. An Everything-Must-Go-Sale at the Dumpster. When the view is wider, the screen clear of mind, wipers keeping it open, each stroke of the blade, becoming, ‘Name something you like, Thank you more please, Name something you like, Thank you more please, Name something you like, Thank you more please, Name Something … you like … more please … you like … more please … you like … more please … you like … more please … you like … more please … you like.’
Standing on solid ground, the known, so-called reality, before you the abyss. Hesitating, unsure. F.E.A.R., (Fuck Everything And Run), behind you, in front of you the unseen, unknown, yet to be spoken. This leap, madness or genius, the extension of nowhere, your legs, arcing through space and time, coming from somewhere, spanning through nowhere, you are now here. Right now. Here. In the leap, the faith, you become tangible. Real. Realized. Free falling in the gap, the span of nothing, the leap; causation. Free. Our lives, history, his/her story, our ordered chaos, death. But in the nothing, no thing, the gap, the leap. In that space, between here and now, the space of no thing and all thing existing, in that placement, or lack of placement, is possibility. You have to leave the earth, (the small strip of land allotted to you at birth that you must till, until you die), you have to achieve lift off, become air born, jump, into what is not known, to know something new. In that moment, in the not knowing, the trusting, that becomes opportunity. Take the leap. Fucking jump.
No need to seek it, receive or find it. You are it. The height, width, breadth of feeling, spirit, soul and being of. Love is you. The universe, god, icon, cosmos, vibration, delight, honor, integrity of. You. Point to love, point to self. Expand, as you breath, the knowing that love grows with every inhale, exhale, permeating the fiber, cells, air, energy, environment of your life, which is you. You are love.
When you understand that the mind is predatory and that you are its host, not like some eco-friendly-birdie-atop-a-hippo-mind-predatory, but like water-moccasin-leeches-man-eating-alligators-in-the-Louisiana-Swamp-Mind-Predatory, then you truly realize, real eyes, that your mind will drain the life-blood from you. Get out of the swamp, wade to shore, before the gators dive and pull you under, disprove the mind, wrangle its scaly ass and burn its tyrannical nature, into submission. When you’re safe from the death grip, aware, awake to the state of grace in which you live, the precious commodity which is your life, build your campfire, dip into source, the bliss state, grateful to be alive. Deactivate the mind and re-wire that sucker, by creating balance, the kind of nature/nurture balance only a spiritual warrior can, so that the predatory mind weakens, and your being, alert, adaptable, present becomes one, aligned, ready for battle, ready for joy.
If you have some outcome, end goal in mind, you may be missing the journey. Now is all we have. And in that present awareness, awareness of the present, what will you do, for yourself, for other? How will you serve the vastness of the realm that is you, your loved ones? Will you hold space, despite outcome, bad behavior, will you love yourself no matter what? Will you smile, laugh, cry, go beyond your most maximum, with an open heart, a strong spine and love, truly love, the pain, heartache, refusal, disavowal and the mirror? Look, deeply inside. See that which is you, your essence. You are home, not the place, but the being. You are love.
You say to yourself, ‘I’ll be good, done, successful, perfect, calm, excited, able to relax, on to the next, happy, when I get that job, girlfriend, promotion, new bike, car, friend, award, relationship, acknowledgement, my first million …’ And it doesn’t satisfy. Because the destination is only pointing to the journey, the process, the growth possible, not expected outcome, but unexpected expansion of self. You are the end goal, your willingness to reach, struggle, resist, scream, complain and yet, persevere. You are the result. You are the glorious never-ending love of adventure, possibility, transcendence, transmutation, evolution and light. YOU.
In order to release someone in love, you have to fall in love with them first. That means if its an absentee father, or an angry mother, an abusive parent, or a neglectful mate, you actually have to open your heart to them, find what you can that is loveable before letting them go. Releasing them out of spite, wont do. Its not releasing at all. In fact, the attachment of anger, hatred and inevitable resentment becomes so severe as to keep you bound, earthbound, treading water, gasping for air, unable to breath. Because hurt, pain, frustration, needing to be right, victim, outrage, accusation, is not release. Love is release. Love is allowing. So regardless of if its hurts, you open your heart, your being and you hold open your arms to those few things, the one birthday card, the time she stopped and noticed your pretty hair, or the flowers he brought on the first date, or the time she cried when she had to say goodbye and you pour your soul into that one important brilliant moment, you bless and kiss and thank them for being. And then you can say goodbye, in love with them, you say it. And of course you weep, heart open. But because you loved them first, and have let them go, in letting them go, you keep them. All that they were, all that they gave you with the love that they had, you keep that. When you release in love, you release them to their greater good and you grow the love in yourself, you become MORE LOVE.
If you need space, personal space, emotional, spiritual, you hold that space. For yourself. Especially for other. Increasing the space, pushing at the wall you’ve built, the definition of what you think you are entitled, the space you deserve, which is, as far as creation is concerned, vast. Hold the space, hold it for other. In holding space for other you hold it for yourself. And watch your space increase. Because the invasion of personal space is you, your lack of allowing yourself. Give yourself space. Give it to other. Breath. Love. Allow everything. Hold the space and watch what happens.
People speaking for one of two reasons; reveal or conceal. And concealing they reveal, because the very thing they try to conceal reveals everything. Holding up the mirror, I see Fear. And in the stillness, become the reflection of, not the receiver, and in that light, shed some. The concealing/revealing and holding space, in love, honor and respect. Now that’s a game. Your move.
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We’ve traveled far, measured, calculated, tidal wave coming and no board, weather’s changed, damage done and no mind, no intellect, but onotoloc will do.. Being from inside the region of the heart, knows, commands space and lights up. Sand warms the bottom of my feet, my soul rendering calculations a thing of the past. Love being universe, being self, other, the vibration, the tremor, the storm and clearing, new horizon pink with cloud and possibility, love being that which speaks itself back and seeing itself locates you and you and you. The trick: see yourself, even in the storm, as love.
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One end, ego, mind, self-inflicted pain, the other, bony, long finger, death at the tip. Pointing nowhere, back at you, exponentially. Time to let go. Hands ache, afraid to fall. Grasp loosens. Lies. Trigger. Program. Its not the surrender that hurts, its the holding on.
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Pervasive, insidious, this less than, to your knees, the pain, so deep you drown, head up to the sky, the oppression makes you cry, sob, big wet ones. The unrequited, the certain lack, not having, fearing the loss of, signaling a deepening. Delusion, illusion, cultural (cult you are all) calls it crazy. Still you lean in, push up against the discomfort like your life depends on it. It does. Feeling your guts explode, the shift hurts so bad. And you’re in it. Mind and all that lying. Only there is breath. Just that. Inhale. Exhale. Meditate like a motherfucker. Strong spine, soft heart. The only way around is through. Shit. That’s transcendence. It burns.
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Thanksgiving, giving thanks, for thanks, for grateful, for listing, for creating the switch plate on the train of thought that might allow the track to change and run toward that which inspires, allows grace, reprieve and the space for us to give thanks. Being thankful for thankfulness is a space on the way to giving thanks and in the giving, receiving it.
Hearing it, more and more, you in my life, not in my life, leaving, coming and going, your heart, beating, ricocheting off the stars, your soul levitating, whispering adventure, whimsy, dramatic and sublime. When you’re connected, the words don’t matter, the vibration, the sound of your heart, does.
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Its here, always has been, never left. The mind altering, completely, raising, taking off, without wings, without sound, silently lifting, recognizing sky as friend. As home. Your heart. Your knowing that you are enough. Valuable, the only game worth playing. Celebrate. Celebrate loving you, this world, this life, this love, this you!