Today

To love without condition
to accept without judgment
to choose freely without consideration

with each and every breath.

When I Am Old and Wise

Sweet Madness

Sweet madness, luscious cerebral nectar of divinity.

Isn’t madness nothing more than simply seeing and accepting the illusion we call reality as illusion? An illusion which is just a trick played upon the mind by the senses. Senses, which we formed as part of a game we created for the playing of life. A game called Life, which is an interesting hodgepodge of board game, scripted stage play and improv; rewritten, painted and acted out, fresh each moment, where moments are strung together like a pearl necklace, flowing into and out of our being with each breath. And with each breath, worlds come and go; strung together with remnants of who thought we are.

Consider the possibility that we are not contained in space and time, but just reading it a page at time like a book; and “we” are the ones holding the book and can choose to cast our vision to any place on the page we choose and can choose to be at any page.

We identify too much with place and time. We let it define who we are.

So what of madness? It has been said that, “those whom the gods wish to destroy they first make mad.” What would anger a “god” so much that they would want or take the time to destroy a lowly human? Is it out of jealousy? Did not the God of Jews declare he was a jealous god. But, was he really honest as to why he was jealous and of what? Was it other gods, goddesses or something else and why would any of them wish someone mad and destroyed? Consider that the source of this anger and jealousy was because they knew that we are the potential to be, and are, the unspeakable which whispered “them” into existence; and have simply forgotten who “we” are, and they fear our remembering. So who should be worshiping who?

Such is the nature of madness; turning everything inside out, over and over again. Like washing an ice cube in hot water to make it cleaner and purer, until soon nothing is left. Nothing, no duality, no right, no wrong, no separateness, no oneness, nothing; sadness and joy swirled into blissful unspeakableness.

A smile, without a face.

Hands Full of Dirt

Scoop up soil
fertile
dark
thirsty for life
with weary hands

Sun beams
plant seeds
into darkened earth
held
watered with
moist
life-giving hands

Life in darkness
grows
breaking free
rising into luminance
kissing my eyes
caressing my being
as joy’s dance we sing

Spring flowers
erupting in
splendiferous
unbridled colors
exploding
penetrating deepest
furthest reaches
of earth
and sky.

Silently
floating to
earth
where we
lie.

Which Came First?

So what came first?
The question or the answer?
Was there an answer
simply there waiting
for the right question to be asked?

Or perhaps there aren’t
and never were any answers
perhaps that’s why each question
only leads to more and more questions
endlessly.

Perhaps it is only questioning
wonderment that is real.

Perhaps that which is searched for
can never be found
and it is really only
the searching that has purpose.

Perhaps it is all pointless
and that IS the point.

And the point is to get
the pointlessness of it all.

But, how do I get pointlessness?

Perhaps I can’t get pointlessness
I can only be pointless.

To be the silence
be the emptiness
be the void

to be nothing
which IS
to be it all.

Atisha's Heart Meditation

Osho -

And the method is, when you breathe in - listen carefully, it is one of the greatest methods - when you breathe in, think that you are breathing in all the miseries of all the people in the world. All the darkness, all the negativity, all the hell that exists anywhere, you are breathing it in. And let it be absorbed in your heart.

You may have read or heard about the so-called positive thinkers of the West. They say just the opposite - they don't know what they are saying. They say, "When you breathe out, throw out all your misery and negativity; and when you breathe in, breathe in joy, positivity, happiness, cheerfulness."

Atisha's method is just the opposite: when you breathe in, breathe in all the misery and suffering of all the beings of the world - past, present and future. And when you breathe out, breathe out all the joy that you have, all the blissfulness that you have, all the benediction that you have. Breathe out, pour yourself into existence. This is the method of compassion: drink in all the suffering and pour out all the blessings.

And you will be surprised if you do it. The moment you take all the sufferings of the world inside you, they are no longer sufferings. The heart immediately transforms the energy. The heart is a transforming force: drink in misery, and it is transformed into blissfulness... then pour it out.
Once you have learned that your heart can do this magic, this miracle, you would like to do it again and again. Try it. It is one of the most practical methods - simple, and it brings immediate results. Do it today, and see.

Source: " The Book of Wisdom " - Osho

In the Spirit of Madness

In the spirit of madness
I start a new year
as a chapter in a book
yet to be written

I vow to drink my fill
of all that pleases me
to take what ever I desire
and fulfill my deepest
fantasies and cravings.

In the spirit of madness
I vow to hold myself
to NO expectations
restrictions
obligations
or moral and
ethical codes.

I shall eat what
delights my pallet
listen to what
feels sweet
to my ear
and
touch all that
tastes delightful
to my fingers tips
and lips.

In the spirit of madness
I will grope into the
most intimate
and darkest corners
of life herself
feeling out her
essence
licking her nectar
as I probe
deeper to posses
all that she is
and ever will be.

I will delve
and dive into
the depths of it all

be it
a placid pond
in an Eden
only dreamt of

or a cesspool
in the pit of
despair.

In the spirit of madness
I will take each moment
for all that it offers
devouring it whole
without thought
or care
or concern
of what may
ever come to pass.

I will consume it all
without guilt
or shame
of what it is
I am
or do.

It is in the spirit of saneness
that I make this proclamation
this declaration of
my freedom and
desire to be
all that I am.

New Years Tribunal

Four gather together
defender
prosecutor
Judge
executioner
six chambers filled
though only one
may be needed

Case to be pleaded
against screaming
voices within
all judgments final
no appeals
no reconsiderations.

Trial, Parole Hearing
is it one or the other
or both and the same?

Sentencing
one more year
in life
or end of life –
acquittal
a stay of execution
and one more year
of life
or freedom
from life.

Which is it
to be?

Execution
end of hope or
hope for freedom
granted?

Life
cursed
incarceration or
exquisite gift?

Which is it?

Is it one or the other

or
both and
the same?

Are THE facts
only stories
fabrications
meanings
created
formed
and imagined
from deafening
mental noise

or echoes of
those voices
lost
in reason?

Can a trial be convened
if neither
Accusers
Prosecutors
or Judges exist?

All like static
between channels
on an aged television.

Faces seen
and voices heard
hallucinated from
a noisy cacophony

by one exquisitely
creative mind.


A mind
imagined also
from the noise.

So a trial was convened
black and white speckled
static
each arguing their
case
vanishing
as fast as they appeared
replaced by more
and more
equally vanishing
specks
like bubbles
in a pot of
boiling water
rising to a surface
bursting into
unconsciousness.

Music from the
silent
void
all
that remains

all
that
ever was.

Music orchestrating
dancing of
innumerable parts
of the indissoluble
One.

Stepping onto the
dance floor
I hear one
last fading
speck whisper

“Don’t try to explain it,
you will only look
like a fool.”

Sunshine Days and Foggy Nights

by James Kavanaugh

I was born to catch dragons in the their dens
And pick flowers
To tell tales and laugh away the morning
To drift and dream like a lazy stream
And walk barefoot across sunshine days.

I was born to find goblins in their caves
And chase moon light
To see shadows and seek hidden rivers
To hear the rain fall on dry leaves
And chat a bit with death across foggy nights.

I was born to rub my hands in dirt
And walk green hills
To plant corn and make bread
To build a house strong against the wind
And to live free across sunshine days.

I was born to watch owls in dark forests
And hear coyotes cry
To feel trees tremble and the grass sleep
To taste cold air and smell the damp earth
And watch ghostly shapes disappear across foggy nights.

I was born to love a woman wrapped in sunshine
And dressed in fog
To make a pact on high hill
Ratified centuries ago by the sun
To walk together through sunshine days and foggy nights.

Christmas Cheer

Ting, ting-a-ling
bells are a ringing
Stores are a bringing
all are a singing…

Singing of goodness
and joy so full
this marvelous time of the year.

Oh Christmas season
floods are senses
dowses our sense
of right
good
and just.

Cheer and compassion
salivate on queue
like dogs to
Pavlov’s ringing bell
just before the
frenzied feast.

Christ’s birthday clowns
ringing bells
blackened pots in hand
feeding the homeless
and hungry
forgotten all –
just moments
before.

We rush to sales
thrown in our eyes
grappling to regain
our sight
with gifts to buy
cards to send
tokens of our
deepest abiding love –
the sacrifice
nailed to the floor
by a horde of
stampeding feet.

Celebrate this joy
buy, buy, buy
just one more
gift is all it will
take to bail out
our callused hearts
from the cold dark
cells we lock
them in.

Where will be the bell ringers
on New Years day;
Will they ring as they stagger
through hangovers from
the previous night’s
fun and frolic?

Will they ring as a
New Year begins
while the homeless crawl
through their vomit
like every other fucking day –
waking from attempts to drown
the pain and torments
the days and nights before?

Oh magical Christmas
holiday season.
What a wondrous time
of the year.
Time to buy back our souls
our hearts
those we love
or pretend care for
with packages
gifts
and little change
in an
asinine
clown’s pot.