Unconditional Love
Beauty
Grace
Truth
Depth
Talent
Spirituality
Intelligence
Love of Nature
Kindness
Generosity
Compassion
Trust
Health
Friendship
Pleasure
Adventure
Purity of spirit
Play
Laughter
Sexiness
Support
Appreciation
Acknowledgement
Being Seen
Clarity, Focus, Self Discipline, Discernment
The body as temple
Joy
Wisdom
Independence
Connectedness
Loyalty
Great tasting, healthy food
A beautiful environment
Pride, not vanity
Style, Class,
Dignity, Self Respect
Openness
Authenticity
Groundedness, with spirit of flight
Wit, charm
Willingness
Commitment
Right living, right priorities
Knowing darkness, flying to light
Divinity
Knowing, not knowing
Discretion
Doing the right thing
Travel
Radiance
Energy
Focus
Spontaneity
Freedom

Survived birth and my spirit entered this body on June 5, 1969 at 11:35 PM in Barberton, Ohio. I chose solid parents of German, Swedish, and Polish blood.

Lived in Brazil for 6 years, age 1-6

Loved first grade so much, that I decided to do it over

Endured throwing up in class all over the top of my desk, in 3rd grade. I got to go home, not sure what happened to the kid in front of me

Got in my first fight at the age of 11, I won I guess, Last of a few was as a junior in High School.

Was quarterback for a championship football team - peewee - Played organized football, basketball, baseball as a kid.

Broke out with chicken pox when I was in 7th grade, during the stations of the cross. Maybe it was stigmata

Read my first book in 6th grade, started reading and liking school in 7th grade

Survived the wrath of my eigth grade teacher, who had a crush on my sweetheart

Lasted through 13 years of private Catholic school

Did NOT become an alter boy - trusting my gut

Hunted, trapped, and fished as a boy in my Tom Sawyer years; hunting and trapping are no longer of interest

Was in a fight at the end of junior year of high school, in front of the whole school, before morning bell in the cafeteria. It ended with the other guy in a head lock, my fist introducing itself to his face. I think I accidentally punched one of the nun teachers who was trying to break up the fight. I regret this, it hurt, was embarrassing, but he did start it with a sucker punch to my jaw. I rec'd nothing in my record.

Held out as a virgin til Freshmen year of College. Stubborn fool.

Elected student body Treasurer as a freshman in College

Worked on shedding my Catholic guilt and sowed my wild oats in college. Became an Atheist around 19, ridiculed organized religion.

Joined a fraternity, quit after a year - not for me

No kidding, I worked for my Congressman, named Rep. Tom Sawyer (D) OH, after my sophomore year of College

Traveled to India and Thailand for 6 months when I was 25

Smoked opi.um in the Golden Triangle with Thai farmers

Meditated for 10 days, 10 hours a day, without speaking once, in Jiapur, India at 25. On the seventh day, I loved all beings, understanding the fundamental nature of suffering.

I regret it but was near the Taj Mahal and did not go to see it. I have to go back for this very reason.

Went over the second highest road pass in the world, survived a 20 hour bus trip through the Himalayan Mountains

Was suspected of being a CIA operative in Kashmir, India, by a Sikh cleric while having tea, where a civil war was smoldering.

Was kidnapped in Kashmir India, for about 10 minutes

Worked as a reporter and copy editor in Bangkok, Thailand

Had a second mother who taught me access to shadow

Survived dysentery, food poisoning 3 times, giardia

Saw the grateful dead three times.

Finished Law School, passed the Oregon Bar, moved to San Francisco instead, without a job, after law school

Passed the CA bar on the second go.

Disassembled and reassembled my car’s engine, to change the cylinder head, successfully.

Started my own law practice 1 year after taking the California bar exam, and made a living of it.

Walked on fire, across a bed of red hot coals.

Attended school for 25 years, consecutively, except last year of law school. B.Phil, JD to show for it

Saw the divine (yellow circle of light with a black dot in the middle - universal sing for the sun) after a sweat lodge, and still experience god from time to time in visions

Summited Mt Shasta twice, Half Dome once

I have traveled to every continent, except Africa, Antarctica, and Australia.

Rode an elephant, horse, donkey, camel

Published a poem

Broke only my nose and thumb, no major surgery except to straighten my nose.

Fell in love, more than a few times, and love all the more for it

Saw New Orleans before it was destroyed

Had a one night stand with an Irish woman (from Ireland) on St. Pattie's Day.

Went to the Cannes Film Festival and didn't see one film

Traveled through London, Paris, and Rome in an 18 day jaunt

Radically changed a few peoples lives

Started a thriving nonprofit organization aimed at bettering society, one individual at a time, that operates on word of mouth, minimal overhead.

4x4'd around Costa Rica, without speaking a lick of Spanish (bad)

Besides the usual FDA approved, I have eaten bear, deer, quail, snake, and goat meat

Countries I've been to"
Brazil
Canada
Mexico
Thailand
S. Korea
Malaysia
India
Kashmir (India)
England
France
England
Denmark
Czech Republic
Spain
Poland

Been to these National Parks:
Arches
Bryce Canyon
Death Valley
Golden Gate Nat.l Rec. Area
Grand Canyon
Great Smoky Mtns
Hawaii Volcanoes
Joshua Tree
Lake Clark
Lassen Volcanic
Mesa Verde
Monument Valley
Mt Shasta
Petrified Forest
Rocky Mountain National Park
Sequoia / Kings
Yosemite
Zion

I have traveled in/through these 29 states:
Arizona
California
Colorado
Florida
Hawaii
Indiana
Kansas
Kentucky
Louisiana
Maine
Maryland
Michigan
Missouri
Nevada
New Mexico
New York
North Carolina
Ohio
Oklahoma
Oregon
Pennsylvania
South Carolina
Tennessee
Texas
Utah
Vermont
Virginia
Washington
West Virginia

- Man's Search for Meaning
- Radical Evolution
- Face the Fear and Do It Anyway
- The Selfish Gene
- Consentual Sado-Masochism
- Art of Possibility
- No BS Direct Marketing - The Ultimate No Holds Barred Kick Butt Take No Prisoners Direct Marketing for Non-Direct Marketing Businesses
- Free Play (on improvisation, play, and creating)
- Lives of the Heart - book of poetry
- The Wild Iris - book of poetry
- Cultivating Compassion
- The Five Things We Cannot Change : And the Happiness We Find by Embracing Them
- Undefended Love: The way that you felt about yourself when you first fell in love is the way that you can feel all the time
- How to Be an Adult in Relationships : The Five Keys to Mindful Loving
- Radical Honesty
- Hafiz, The Gift - poems
- The Subject Tonight Is Love : 60 Wild & Sweet Poems of Hafiz
- Tears and Laughter - Gibran
- Bio of FDR (took me 2 years to get through 1100 pages - my vote for best sleep aid)

*All Time Fav's*
-Stepplenwolfe
-Siddartha
-Illuminatus Trilogy
-Bio of Ben Franklin
-The Prophet - K. Girbran
-1984
-Tolkein's work
-Dune series

-All, In a Moment-

A sweetness, feeding another
Touching with words
Hearing without speech
Feeling without touch
Tasting stillness in motion
Freedom in doing
Ease in being
Present in the pregnant moment
Free of armor, of defense
Open beyond closing
Vulnerable and absolutely held
Pulling the breast plate open,
With the strength of ten thousand men.
To share the heart, the pain, the love, the joy
To give and not receive
Like the flow of a cornucopia
Saying yes to mystery, the moment, the unfolding.
Pouring out the nectar of Love’s fruit,
Ever pouring forth from the sacred chalice.
Trusting through primordial fear, and life’s wounding
A softness seen, revered and tickled.
Rejuvenation from the Soul’s knowing.
Channeling truth from the core, furnace of alchemy.
Spoken with the sacred gentleness of butterfly kisses.
Reflection received most open heartedly,
Like the Moon’s light, the Sun reflected.
Surrendering to the moment’s passion or fury,
Love or pain, joy or sorrow.
The perfection of fully being with what is so,
Whether good or bad.
Fully being in the moment, open, a Yes!, accepting,
Without condition, loving fully, without exception.
Receiving openly, without filter,
without constraint, without control - surrendered.
Heart strings playing a soothing joyful melody,
That sings angelic praise of love’s offering.
In moments of Gloria, Sunset playing Heaven’s harkening symphony.
All reminding us of light’s power over darkness, Now.

-TS

"When love beckons to you, follow him, though his ways are hard and steep. And when his wings enfold you, yield to him, though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you. And when he speaks to you believe in him, Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden." Kahil Gibran

"Inside the heart of each and every one of us there is a longing to be understood by someone who really cares. When a person is understood, he or she can put up with almost anything in the world." Rev Ed Hird
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Me
We

- Mohammed Ali
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To laugh often and much, to win the respect of intelligent people and
the affection of children, to earn the appreciation of honest critics
and endure the betrayal of false friends, to appreciate beauty, to
find the best in others, to leave the world a bit better, whether by a
healthy child, a garden patch . . . to know even one life has breathed
easier becasue you have lived. This is to have succeeded.

Ralph Waldo Emerson, (1803 - 1882) American Essayist & Poet
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"Do not believe in anything simply because you have heard it. Do not believe in anything simply because it is spoken and rumored by many. Do not believe in anything because it is found written in your religious books. Do not believe in anything merely on the authority of your teachers and elders. Do not believe in traditions because they have been handed down for many generations. But after observation and analysis, when you find anything that agrees with reason and is conducive to the good and benefit of one and all, then accept it and live up to it." -Siddhartha Gautama (The Buddha), 563-483 B.C.
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Rumi

THE ALCHEMY OF LOVE

You come to us
from another world

From beyond the stars
and void of space.
Transcendent, Pure,
Of unimaginable beauty,
Bringing with you
the essence of love

You transform all
who are touched by you.
Mundane concerns,
troubles, and sorrows
dissolve in your presence,
Bringing joy
to ruler and ruled
To peasant and king

You bewilder us
with your grace.
All evils
transform into
goodness.

You are the master alchemist.

You light the fire of love
in earth and sky
in heart and soul
of every being.

Through your love
existence and nonexistence merge.
All opposites unite.
All that is profane
becomes sacred again.
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“Even when I was in the orphanage, when I was roaming the street trying to find enough to eat, even then I thought of myself as the greatest actor in the world. I had to feel the exuberance that comes from utter confidence in yourself. Without it, you go down to defeat.”

– Charlie Chaplin, actor, director
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A wakeup reminder from Kafka

"Before the law sits a gatekeeper. To this gatekeeper comes a man from the country who asks to gain entry into the law. But the gatekeeper says that he cannot grant him entry at the moment. The man thinks about it and then asks if he will be allowed to come in later on. “It is possible,” says the gatekeeper, “but not now.” At the moment the gate to the law stands open, as always, and the gatekeeper walks to the side, so the man bends over in order to see through the gate into the inside. When the gatekeeper notices that, he laughs and says: “If it tempts you so much, try it in spite of my prohibition. But take note: I am powerful. And I am only the most lowly gatekeeper. But from room to room stand gatekeepers, each more powerful than the other. I can’t endure even one glimpse of the third.” The man from the country has not expected such difficulties: the law should always be accessible for everyone, he thinks, but as he now looks more closely at the gatekeeper in his fur coat, at his large pointed nose and his long, thin, black Tartar’s beard, he decides that it would be better to wait until he gets permission to go inside. The gatekeeper gives him a stool and allows him to sit down at the side in front of the gate. There he sits for days and years. He makes many attempts to be let in, and he wears the gatekeeper out with his requests. The gatekeeper often interrogates him briefly, questioning him about his homeland and many other things, but they are indifferent questions, the kind great men put, and at the end he always tells him once more that he cannot let him inside yet. The man, who has equipped himself with many things for his journey, spends everything, no matter how valuable, to win over the gatekeeper. The latter takes it all but, as he does so, says, “I am taking this only so that you do not think you have failed to do anything.” During the many years the man observes the gatekeeper almost continuously. He forgets the other gatekeepers, and this one seems to him the only obstacle for entry into the law. He curses the unlucky circumstance, in the first years thoughtlessly and out loud, later, as he grows old, he still mumbles to himself. He becomes childish and, since in the long years studying the gatekeeper he has come to know the fleas in his fur collar, he even asks the fleas to help him persuade the gatekeeper. Finally his eyesight grows weak, and he does not know whether things are really darker around him or whether his eyes are merely deceiving him. But he recognizes now in the darkness an illumination which breaks inextinguishably out of the gateway to the law. Now he no longer has much time to live. Before his death he gathers in his head all his experiences of the entire time up into one question which he has not yet put to the gatekeeper. He waves to him, since he can no longer lift up his stiffening body. The gatekeeper has to bend way down to him, for the great difference has changed things to the disadvantage of the man. “What do you still want to know, then?” asks the gatekeeper. “You are insatiable.” “Everyone strives after the law,” says the man, “so how is that in these many years no one except me has requested entry?” The gatekeeper sees that the man is already dying and, in order to reach his diminishing sense of hearing, he shouts at him, “Here no one else can gain entry, since this entrance was assigned only to you. I’m going now to close it."
- KAFKA
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As Once the Winged Energy of Delight

As once the winged energy of delight
carried you over childhood's dark abysses,
now beyond your own life build the great
arch of unimagined bridges.

Wonders happen if we can succeed
in passing through the harshest danger;
but only in a bright and purely granted
achievement can we realize the wonder.

To work with Things in the indescribable
relationship is not too hard for us;
the pattern grows more intricate and subtle,
and being swept along is not enough.

Take your practiced powers and stretch them out
until they span the chasm between two
contradictions...For the god
wants to know himself in you.

- Rainer Maria Rilke

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It has been some time since I have written here, maybe two months. I was busy building the Cathedral. It was a fantastic experience, managing and encouraging dozens of people to build a nearly six ton structure in the desert. Countless people poured their heart and soul into the project. I am filled up now, fully given of what I could, minus the temporary back injury on Sunday after the Burn.

I stand now, tabula rasa, free of major commitments, newly single, clear. It is time to turn within to stoke my own refinement, harness my talents and gifts, sharpen my own tools and edges, and harvest my own bounty for future years.
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But it's even stranger how one jumps to conclusions.
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Strange how poeple run away from connection, get confronted. I do the same, but stange when its in a win/win situation. People get confronted. Of late I have been pretty much leaning into my edge, opening my heart, speaking my emotional truth, not just my heady truth. I am feeling quite good about this, feeling new capacity. Feeling solid within my self, not really grasping or attached. I feel desire, but in a take or leave it sense. Other times I do feel a longing for deep spiritual communion and partnership, and even here I am in no hurry. I have lessons to learn, especially around being unconditional and as well as being in the moment rather than my internal piture of how the moment should be. Aware of this more and more. Maybe she'll come around. We just met afterall.
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Feeling a little clearer this week. Flow, acceptance, being. I met someone special, quite beautiful too. She's young, intelligent, a good heart, loyal, spiritual, but lacks experience, which I have plenty of. She has grace, play, innocence, appetite, interest. Strange to think of what I offer in relation to someone so young. Can she keep my attention beyond her physical beauty, can she intrigue me, beyond initial curiosity. Can I her? I have the world to offer, really, in my minds eye, its full range, damn near. I resolve to be curious, and more curiouser than I have for some time, lifting away layers to this thing called life.

My mind and body has ventured damn near everywhere, at least in thought, if not practice. I have chosen my life, where I could. I could have chosen more, had I the resources, but I cannot complain in the least bit. Now that I see financial stability in progress, on the horizon, my mind is beginning to think of other opportunities, adventures. I have strived so long, sometimes treading water for so long, I feel more grace and ease in my being. I employ a young woman who is thrilled to be working with me. She has taught me a thing or two, and been a great confidant. I respect her. She is wise beyond her 24 years. She is graceful, though she has that youthful clumsiness. It is endearing. These subtleties I will study in people, so that I can paint with them in my writing. There is a novel or two in me. I have lived a good life, and it s only getting started.

I watched Bukowski's documentary last night. I love his rawness. I would have liked him. I think he would have like me, despite our differences in taste. He had a different path for sure. He would scoff at my optimism, my sense of spirituality, but I would understand him, and he I, with respect. There is suffering, and their is joy. Let's make joy, let's make love, and let's have a fuck of good time doing it, and restraining only to prevent harm to another. He was a sensitive SOB, I relate to the sensitive, and I am still working on the SOB part.


I recall a poem from him that I particularly like about a bullfight. I looked it up, and can't remember which of two it was, here they are:

BULL!

Ten years ago, I went to a bullfight in Spain. I was on tour for our album SEE YOU ON THE OTHER SIDE. After watching the first bullfight, I really felt ashamed to be there. Sure, I had read Hemingway, I was curious. But you know, the bull doesn't have a snowball's chance in hell? The bull is drugged and has already been stabbed and is zombied-out.

I got up and left the arena, feeling dirty, feeling cheated, and feeling sad.

-C. Bukowski

side of the sun

the bulls are grand as the side of the sun
and although they kill them for the stale crowds,
it is the bull that burns the fire,
and although there are cowardly bulls as
there are cowardly matadors and cowardly men,
generally the bull stands pure
and dies pure
untouched by symbols or cliques or false loves,
and when they drag him out
nothing has died
something has passed
and the eventual stench
is the world.

-Charles Bukowski

TS 5.8.06

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Things I have quit - I noticed I wrote about things I quit doing that no longer served me. The one major thing I did quit was entering politics.

When I was in high school I dreamed of being in politics, as a representative or in government generally, in Washington, DC. My personal heroes were JFK and MLK. I quit that dream in Law School as my naiveté shriveled in the real world, beyond comforts of home and the college bubble. I realized my persona was not cut out for the rough and tumble world of BS politics. I was drawn to making a difference, not power per se, and it is most all about power.

In the mid 90's after travel abroad, I quit following politics so much when I saw past illusions, the veil, only to return again out of outrage at Bush, Inc. I quit being an activist the day after the Nov. 2004 elections, and I now rarely follow the political buzz (relatively
speaking). I now believe in personal transformation as the vehicle of change and empowerment as reflected in community, family, art, literature, and new thought.

Continued with the law as my trade. For the most part, I quit being a litigator in the last couple years. I only have one case in litigation at the moment, though several disputes in pre-litigation. I didn't enjoy it, and was not motivated for the fight. Its a lot of stress, fighting, posturing, BS, and a lot of work, a lot of
procedure. And I wasn't good at it, not for lack of talent, but for lack of passion. I get decent results, but not outstanding. I solved many problems. I am also too honest and nice for it, really.

In my late 20's I quit being a contrarian, to take ownership and consciousness of others, rather than resisting from ego. Still working on the later part.

In my early 20's I quit being a Catholic, because it is long on empty ritual and guilt, short on spirituality. I thought the world was explainable through science. I later awoke to spirituality in my later 20's.

I quit being an Ohioan, wanted to see the world and get away from home state, etc.

I quit being conventional, only to return to those conventions that work, out of choice.

I quit resisting structure and discipline, when I decided to take on my life and to be the master of my future. Still working on this, obviously. Started being decisive, and a yes, while quitting things that didn't serve where I wanted to go. Still working on this one as I am over-committed.

I quit being an idealist, in 1998 or so, running my own business.

I quit lying those small white lies, when I saw it hurt others and undermine what I wanted.

I quit my college fraternity after a year, because I outgrew it, and it no longer was me. Probably never was.

I quit keeping in touch with friends from Ohio. Lost relatedness.

I quit several relationships, still looking for the one and not wanting to settle.

I quit paying federal taxes when the Iraq war started.

I quit being Mr. Nice guy, to better navigate in the world. Still nice though. ; )

I quit holding back when I fell in love in 2003, except when someone doesn't want to hear what I have to say, or share their experience. This is one I have had to relearn, and practice.

I quit believing in the right one, and realized its about commitment, loyalty, honesty, passion, connection, acceptance, compassion, giving, facing fear, and unconditional love - a tall order at times. Still
learning on this too.

I stopped in my ambitions for a several years, because of self doubt, resignation, fear, lack of vision, until I realized that no one but me would make the life I wanted.

Going to high school, I quit sports when I was cut from the freshman basketball team.

When I was 27 or 28 I quit Landmark's self expression and leadership course, because it was too confronting.

I quit my summer stay in Vermont because my family said they might be moving overseas and needed me home.

I quit (almost) recreational drug use in my late 20s, when it showed little new.

I quit living in Thailand, because I was getting sick.

I quit being angry with my father, when I accepted him for who he was and recognized his excellence. My life has partly been about being what he was unable to be, and I am embodying those qualities of him
that are his best.

More to learn, more to grow, more to quit, more to accomplish.

+++++++++++++

What happens when my leadership breakdown?

I hide out, withdraw, recollect myself, figure it out
I am guarded and protective
I am move to blaming others, finding fault instead of taking personal responsibility.
I feel fear, a little like I don't want to be seen
I want to give up, check out
I feel overwhelmed, a bit frayed
I stop taking care of myself, like working out, eating well, sleeping well
I can get thrown off, when my leadership is challenged, undermined,
especially when I feel or made to feel like I didn't something wrong and that a breakdown was my fault - that is debilitating to me. And I see where that has caused me to curtail risks that I take, like erring
on the side of caution. But that said, I have done a lot in my life. It has been quite full.
What else, I have tried to control events rather than letting them flow, or even letting go.

TS 5.7.06
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Just got out of a session with my acupuncturist and I feel quite opened up. Quite raw. I cried on the way home thinking of my mother, suppressed, closed under my father. I don't want to feel this pain, that I took on. I feel guilty for it, somehow. This feeling was triggered last summer, and just came up again for me. So I called my mother, to see how she was feeling after a recent cold. She was feeling much better when we talked. She sounded good. Spoke with my Dad, he's well too.

But I hid my sadness from them, and maybe it is unjustified where they are at now. My mom sounded happy. And yet this thing inside of me keep me feeling guilt somehow. I think I have some more cleaning up to do, separating energetic cords that have nothing to do with me. Why so intense I don't know - feels very core.

TS - 5.4.06
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Contemplating Shiva this morning. The calm, cool, all knowing, all powerful, mediator - Destroyer of Evil, Creator, Conductor of the cosmic dance. Power from within, inspiration from without, in balance with the feminine principle, in dance, ying and yang, light and dark, dominant and submissive in synergy and one and the same, interdependent, independent, synergy. Pavarti.

TS - 5.4.06
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Just got some new insight into the vision I had from the sweat lodge that I did 3 plus years ago. The vision I had was the Sun. Universal symbol for the sun. A circle with black dot. In my vision it was yellow. It was authentication from my of the divine. Because of strong aversions to my Catholic upbringing, which involved alot of guilt and shame, I overlaid Judeo-Christian monotheistic views on top of my vision. And just a few days ago, on my Sunday morning walk, I had the impulse to walk into the Catholic Church across the street from my house, which I have never set foot in, during the last 9 years I have lived in that neighborhood. I went in, immediately felt energy running in my body. I sat in a pew, relaxed - smelled familiar smells, heard that buzz of the lights, the occasional cough amidst the parishioners, the creak of people moving in their benches. I sat there, absorbing the symbolism around me, the sensations, and my internal flow of energy. I relaxed, and acceptance arose, judgment of this decaying human institution fell away. I sat there, neutral, able to see it for what it was, and to know even deeper to my core that it is not me, not my experience of the divine. Mine is of the sun, the elements, the changes in the weather, the moon, day and night, the land, the water, the animals, and all of that within us. TS 5.1.06
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My growth path now involves respecting and honoring the submissive/masochist, generally. My mother was/is a masochist for accepting my father's dominance. At least that is the story I made of it. As I cultivate my power and capacity, this is essential to understand, and I now feel there is a new level of awareness of dynamics that I did not see before, and frankly, ran against very egalitarian impulses. What a gift, what a sacrifice my mother made to be my mom, the wife of my father. My context toward her is to honor her for her gift, as well as her excellent qualities. And I also get that my language in describing this isn't even hitting the mark. Its partly ying and yang, partly quantum mechanics, part string theory, part dance, part play, part improvisation, part role play, part surrender to one's and another's needs in a humbling and generous way. It calls out greater awareness, focus, love, and I like that, because I like the rush of energy in the exchange, when in that dance, that play. Sigh of relief, and it is edgy. I want to be in a place where it naturally flows with grace, ease, love, direction, devoid of coercion and the bad side of control, and even surrender, surrender to the gift of it all. I just picked up another torch, a brighter one, on this path.

TS - 4/30/06, 5/1/06
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My path is to empower with heart. - TS 4.27.06
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Power?

Power is energy, vitality, current, synergy, capacity, a weapon, a carrot, a stick, a tool, persuasion, belief, seduction, surrender, domination, money, corruption, eruption, receiving, penetrating, vision, insight, quietness, integrity, principle, commitment, focus,
discipline, zest, primal urge, precision, clarity, , articulation, delivery, showing up, thought, an idea, words, love, illusion, breath, chi, balance, flow, Grace, dance, petrol, oil, guns, saints, sinners, god, God, martyrs, blood, sacrifice, restraint, oppression, freedom, it is context, agreement, shared reality, people, minds, consciousness, fission, fusion, terror, faith, spirit, change, resilience, resistance, non-violent resistance, revolt, hurricane, tsunami, sun, lighting, and on and on.

Bottom line it is energy and capacity, and exchange, transference, cultivation, or maintenance of energy, which can be exercised or experienced in a million different paths, directions.

We have been working on our own personal power, effectiveness, and leadership, and of late we have been identifying those things that are in the way of our leadership.

For me, my inquiry of late has to do with internal integration to develop further capacity and freedom. My inquiry is also about patterns and habits that create my reality, and exploring these so that I may live the life that I want, and to give my gifts as an expression of my power as well. Metaphorically, I consider myself training, honing, practicing, evolving who I am (the sum of my habits and choices) to be the person I aspire to be.

Choice is power, and ultimate power is self mastery.

TS 4/28/06
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There is something new happening, not entirely new but further than where I have let myself go. I love feeling free, to do as I want and will. Sexually, I have been this way at times, and that has always been tempered by a few things, one of which was my public persona that I cultivate and live, and yet, my mind this week has gone further in its desires then before, or might it be that I am allowing myself the freedom to go there with these desires. I feel a new access point to the darkest and hedonistic desires, and manifesting them. Before I had no vehicle to manifest them and so there was always a lid on them, relegated to fantasy. An unbeknownst layer of shame or guilt has been stripped a way, probably a few actually. (I always fancied myself as free of guilt and shame, but some denial was uncovered). The challenge is to play in these realms, and maintaining my persona that I have professionally, socially – understanding my limits, what my terms are, what parameters I wish to maintain not out of shame or judgment, but out of choice, out of my ideals and what enhances the vision and direction of my life.

I have to give some credit, to one in particular beyond recent readings and a certain workshop. She taught me a lot just by her way of being in her desires so freely and unabashedly. She is brave, special, dynamic, and a teacher to me. Too bad she needs me to play in front of her man. No interest in doing that. One thing I know about myself is that I have the capacity for great competitive and even dangerous (not really dangerous) emotions and instincts when my sexual masculine energy is intermixed with another man. I would equate it with two bucks sparring, and I have the instinct to win by any means necessary. So, I am doing her a favor, by not going their as she requires for further play.
She is special to me for the gifts she might not even know that she has shown and given to me.

TS - 4-24-06
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Tzedaka, the Hebrew term meaning both charity and justice, is one of Judaism's most majestic and powerful pillars. The Talmud states (3): "Tzedaka is equal to all the other commandments combined." Rabbi Judah bar Ilai in the Talmud (4) put it dramatically:

Iron is strong, but fire melts it.
Fire is strong, but water extinguishes it.
Water is strong, but the clouds carry it.
The clouds are strong, but the wind drives them.
The wind is strong, but man withstands it.
Man is strong, but fear weakens him.
Fear is strong, but wine removes it.
Wine is strong, but sleep overcomes it.
Sleep is strong, but death stands over it.
What is stronger than death?
Acts of generosity, for it is written (5),

“Tzedaka delivers from death”.
The word tzedaka derives from the Hebrew word tzedek, "justice." From a Jewish perspective, to give to the needy is not only an act of kindness; it is an act of justice. Jewish tradition teaches that part of the wealth we own does not really belong to us (6); it is money that G-d entrusted to us that we are required to pass on to those in need. Thus, to withhold charity is considered a subtle form of theft (7).
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This morning, at the end of my drive to work, I heard an interview of a survivor of the 1906 Earthquake. Today is the 100th anniversary.

The man interviewed was 102. He couldn't remember where he was on the day (he was only 2.) He went on to discuss, how he was proud, yet sad about those who had departed.

He interjected about the interviewer, "You know, you're a pretty girl."

"Thank you," the interviewer said. Man chuckling, in that 102 year old kind of way.

Unflustered, the interviewer went on to ask about what he remembered. He then discussed about what his parents had told him about the Earthquake that he lived on 17th Avenue in the Richmond.

Then, he says to her, "You know, you've got a problem."

"What's that?" she says.

"You're a pretty girl."

Thank you she says, in light chuckles.

Then, he says, "You got another problem. I'm crazy about pretty girls."

More chuckles, from the crowd, interviewer.


I got out of my car, laughing aloud, and smiled all the way to coffee shop.

I thought to myself, I hope I'm that crazy when I turn 102. - TS, April 18, 2006


"Urge and urge and urge,
Always the procreant urge of the world.

Out of the dimness opposite equals advance, always substance and
increase, always sex,
Always a knit of identity, always distinction, always a breed of life.
To elaborate is no avail, learn'd and unlearn'd feel that it is so.

Sure as the most certain sure, plumb in the uprights, well
entretied, braced in the beams,
Stout as a horse, affectionate, haughty, electrical,
I and this mystery here we stand."

- W. Whitman, Song of Myself, in part.

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Swimming through the Maya. With each stroke, with each act, each communication, each decision their is movement. And in the movement, decision, action, there is opening, ideally, openings to new realms, new possibilities, new vistas.

Story of action and flow to share. On Tuesday, I went back to a store I was at on Monday night. I went back to buy a large bronze dancing Shiva statute - on sale for $350, 50#s or so, 2+ feet high. It was 70% off, clearance sale; I went back, bought it in cash despite my hesitation about spending the money. I took it home, put it in a prominent place. I felt the abundance of it in my energetic space. I surrendered to that decision, enjoying it. Today, I had a new client (who had canceled on Tuesday), who came in and paid my retainer in cash all in hundred dollar bills. That felt good, then I met with my assistant. I thought, she deserves a cash bonus, and thought I should ask her if she wants to work another day a week for me. I handed her some cash, said thank you for her efforts. She was beside herself with appreciation. Unbeknownst to me, she was stressed about money this week, had prayed on it yesterday. It was great to hear that. I felt her energy, appreciation, and she also wants to work another day.

I feel appreciated by her, as she feels it from me. I feel in partnership with her. She is on my team.

I feel I am the master and commander of my life, though I want to upgrade my ship from a schooner to a tall ship. Feels like I recently traded a leaking rowboat.

Getting to work by 7AM has been great, though I am not yet getting to bed early enough, and had to take a cat nap in my office today and yesterday. I need a couch. Getting up before sunrise and seeing the early morning sun on my drive to work is awesome. Today was such a beautiful day. Taking the day on early feels powerful, and is a new experience for me. I have always been such a night owl, and working for myself< I have had the luxury of making my own hours. And yet, everything is on the table to produce the results I want at work.

Feeling my core values of Vitality, Realization, Love, Freedom, and Peace.

TS - 4/13/06
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What is next? Continue to thrive, prosper, live freely, better myself and those I touch, live in light and play, teach, learn, write, share, build, travel, and love.
- TS 4/3/06
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When you focus upon anything at all, it's like a call goes out to every corner of the Universe, summoning ideas, strength, courage, insight, resources, and whatever else is needed to complete the laser beam of your concentration. If it's an answer you need, it will be forthcoming. If it's a choice you have to make, your options are calculated and recalculated under each scenario. If circumstances need to be arranged then every soul on the planet is consulted. And if it's help you need... we're already there.
When you focus upon anything at all. Not bad, huh?
- The Universe
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Driving back from a meeting, I saw the body of a possum laying in the road. I swerved to avoid hitting it. I looked back in my mirror, and saw it lift its head, trying to get up. It did not get up There was a pool of blood. I thought, what should I do?

I thought in the instant, turn around and put it out of its misery, but maybe it could live. Take it to an animal shelter, clinic? It was a moment of suffering for this creature, dying, death.

I decided to leave it be, let go, let it die.

It made me think of other wounded animals, people, and how I have let it be, moved on, let go of doing anything. It made me wonder if doing anything in a given situation is really called for. My thoughts took
me to a deeper place of allowing, acceptance, away from my way of being of fixing, pushing, making something happen.

I thought of the everyday struggle of life, especially in nature which I was much more in touch with growing up. Cycle of life and death. My own dying, and living.

We live at a pretty high level of existence, spending time and money on a course on leadership and being, far removed from very basic survival, focused on much higher functioning.

And yet, like that very healthy possum, the moment before, it can change, in an instant.

Life is so precious, so sacred, and I for one, can take that for granted. Then on top of that basic living/survival, there are so many other levels of being and functioning.

Our personalities, our identities, your habits, our wounds playing out, and then there is the life of our souls, our essence playing out, our spirit.

Makes me wonder about my being, and how it empowers others or takes away from others. And to worry about that too much can take away from
my offering, my gifts, my being in this world, and so to hold back out of fear, is robbing the soul, robbing others of those gifts, friction, and energy.

I made the right decision to let go of doing anything for that wounded animal, this time.

TS 3/22/06
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I fell in love with TS. He is an amazing man, a sweet soul, a generous stand for other people being their best. There is just no other way of saying it. I fell in love with myself. - TS 3/16/06
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The Balloon

Walking down to the market
A scent overcame my ponderings,
Like a fresh breeze, anew.

My thoughts scattered like pigeons
Leaving my body tied to the wind
Like a balloon bobbing from a child's wrist.

I am left only with myself.
No thoughts, just instant connection
To my surroundings. Warm scent, children laughing.

Yet, something in me will not move,
Though the trees dance about me
In a halo of leaves.

Inside, a cavernous stillness
Awaits a pindrop for eternity
Without fail, ever so, nothing.

From nothingness,
My life billows out of the interior hollow,
brightly-colored clouds of dreams.

TS and BT 3/8/06
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Six Mistakes of Man
1. The illusion that personal gain is made up of crushing others.

2. The tendency to worry about things that cannot be changed or corrected.

3. Refusing to set aside trivial preferences.

4. Insisting that a thing is impossible because we cannot accomplish it.

5. Neglecting development and refinement of the mind and not acquiring the habit of reading and study

6. Attempting to compel others to believe and live as we do.
- Marcus Tullius Cicero
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Chilly Sunset

Above the fog, ocean blanketed
Sun waning, night chill stirring
Warmth, clinging to you, to me
Brrrrrrr, no matter
Warmed inside, at ease with you.
Hmmm, a warm wet kiss, shiraz
Dash to the car, one last look
Sun setting, another beautiful good-day.

-TS 2/27/06

I am perpetually surprised by the place context and perspective have in relationships. One friend can feel fear, while the other friend is feeling hurt, almost like the immovable object and the unopposable force. And so, like any conflict or misunderstanding, it takes one to reach out, grounded in love, truth, reality to bridge such a canyon. It is a shame really to think about it, fear of hurt, hurting hurt, hurt by fear, and back again. And there is a place for owning one's own, and not taking it personally. Peace, love, grace, courage of heart, all around.

-TS 2/21/06

Feeling tired, like a need a break. I am working hard, busy with many projects, many social activities. My body needs a spa, a massage, needs a cleanse. My heart is good, full. My mind is clear, sharp, centered. My roots run strong and deep. I need some TLC though for my spirit, my body. All is well, present to the good, reality, truth. TS 2/20/06
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Ode to Awakenings

Permeating rock, the Tao
Radiating from the sun, filling darkness
Consciousness, Abound!
Flying in a stillpoint, everywhere at once
The Way, flowing in between, inside, all around
All rooted deep within, grounded, unbound
Sacred heart bursting, bleeding, tears freely
Firmly planted, flying with grace
Walking step by step, one and all.
Free and stable, wind and earth
Fana annihilation, passing away
Crushing waves, rock gives way
Churning thundering song to the gulls
Still vastness, lifting tiny grains
The Way, as is, what was, what will be
Singular, the multitude
Always now, everywhere
No where, but here and now
Universal, and the individual
One, all, Single, alpha to omega
Oscillating like the frequency of unbearable vibration until silence, stillness
Broken again, and again, renewed
Be still, breathe deep, surrender to now
Providence cradles, imbues Dharma
Nowhere to go, nowhere to be
Just here, right now, free, unbowed, you, God.

TS - 2/17/06
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There is always choice, and yet without knowing our pathology, our choice is limited. The self actualized man knows himself, his history, and makes his own saga. No small feat. And it is that struggle that makes the stuff of life. Boy to man, is self determination, courage, facing and passing through fear, knowing one's own power, wielding it effectively. Self discipline, being true to oneself, one's purpose. Knowing depth, bringing depth, with lightness. Doing what has to be done. Follow through, commitment. Boy to man is a state of being, of mind, an attitude, perpetually refined as a man ages, cures, peaks, falls, rises again, prevails, fails, but above all persists forward. -TS 2/9/06
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Tao Chp 76 - Rigid behavior will kill you

When alive, the body is supple, yielding.
In death, the body becomes hard, unyielding.

Living plants are flexible,
In death, they become dry and brittle.

Therefore, stubborn people are disciples of death, but
Flexible people are disciples of life.

In the same way,
Inflexible soldiers cannot win (a victory).
And the hardest trees are readiest for an axe to chop them down
Tough guys sink to the bottom, while
Flexible people rise to the top.
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Today feeling good, like the world is my oyster. Opportunities abound, my life is running well. My wish beyond this is to meet someone that aligns with my sensibilities, who resonates with my being, that stimulates me, and wants co-create a vision for living an extra-ordinary life. I have done a great deal of work on opening myself, and frankly I am ready for the right person, for the right time, right on the same page. - TS 1/25/06
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"He is a letter to everyone. You open it. It says, ‘Live!’" - Rumi

Youth is wasted on the young. - George Bernard Shaw

The scientists of today think deeply instead of clearly. One must be sane to think clearly, but one can think deeply and be quite insane. - Nikola Tesla

Most human beings have an almost infinite capacity for taking things for granted. - Aldous Huxley

No matter what “they” say, Tom, and no matter what they do, and no matter what they don’t say or don’t do, they actually love you. I know because they told me.
-The Universe
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"I offer you peace. I offer you love. I offer you friendship. I see your beauty. I hear your need. I feel your feelings. My wisdom flows from the Highest Source. I salute that Source in you. Let us work together for unity and love." ~ Gandhi (1869-1948) Indian spiritual and political leader, called Mahatma "great soul"

"Here's to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The trouble-makers. The round pegs in the square holes. The ones who see things differently. They're not fond of rules, and they have no respect for the status-quo. You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify, or vilify them. But the only thing you can't do is ignore them. Because they change things. They push the human race forward. And while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius. Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world, are the ones who do." ~ Apple Computers (ad)

"Mountaintops inspire leaders but valleys mature them." ~ Winston Churchill (1874-1965) British prime minister during World War II, winner of Nobel Prize for literature 1953
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***
But I do not talk of the beginning or the end.

There was never any more inception than there is now,
Nor any more youth or age than there is now,
And will never be any more perfection than there is now,
Nor any more heaven or hell than there is now.

Urge and urge and urge,
Always the procreant urge of the world.

Out of the dimness opposite equals advance, always substance and
increase, always sex,
Always a knit of identity, always distinction, always a breed of life.
To elaborate is no avail, learn'd and unlearn'd feel that it is so.
***
-Walt Whiman, Song of Myself
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Every day you may make progress. Every step may be fruitful. Yet there will stretch out before you an ever-lengthening, ever-ascending, ever-improving path. You know you will never get to the end of the journey. But this, so far from discouraging, only adds to the joy and glory of the climb. -Sir Winston Churchill (1874 - 1965)

"Do not follow where the path may lead. Go instead where there is no path and leave a trail." ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882) American transcendentalist philosopher, essayist & lecturer

". . . I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference." - Robert Frost

For you and for me the highest moment, the keenest joy, is not when our minds dominate but when we lose our minds. ~Anais Nin

"If I have the belief that I can do it, I shall surely acquire the capacity to do it even if I may not have it at the beginning." ~ Gandhi (1869-1948) Indian spiritual and political leader, called Mahatma "great soul"
The difference between an old soul and a young soul, Tom, is known only by the old soul. Whatever the heck that means. - The Universe

"Only by much searching and mining are gold and diamonds obtained, and man can find every truth connected with his being if he will dig deep into the mine of his soul." ~ James Allen (1864-1912) English author of As A Man Thinketh from As a Man Thinketh

"In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer." ~ Albert Camus (1913-1960) French philosopher & writer, Nobel prize winner

"Knowing others is intelligence; knowing yourself is true wisdom. Mastering others is strength; mastering yourself is true power." ~ Lao Tzu (c.604-531 B.C.) Chinese philosopher & mystic, founder of Taoism from Tao Te Ching

"I seek the truth...it is only persistence in self-delusion and ignorance that does harm." ~ Marcus Aurelius (121-180) Roman Emperor (161-180), Stoic philosopher
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"A muse is a rare thing, at least in my experience. A golden fleece, a unicorn, a foundation of diamond slabs, a pearl of wisdom, not so common and so, a muse is far from common place as is beauty in the eye of the beholder. A far cry, for a beholder of beauty is far more common than the scribe or artist of the muse. A muse is well beyond, beauty, though it is a helpful addition, though certainly an insufficient condition. Speaking as one not so easily mused." -TS

"Everyone wants to be happy, doesn't want suffering." - Dali Lama -- Fill in the blank, again and again. Repeat again, with different people of all sorts. ____________ wants to be happy, doesn't want suffering.

"Willingness is nothing without follow through, for as they say, actions speak louder than words." - TS

"Art and Sex are the same thing." said Pablo Picasso. "There is good art, bad art, funky art, perverse art, cookie cutter art, exulted art, and then, there are masterpieces." - TS

"To know and not to do is not to know." - Parrish

"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover." ~ Mark Twain, 19th century US author and humorist
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THE FOURTEEN PRECEPTS
OF ENGAGED BUDDHISM

Thich Nhat Hanh (From the book "Interbeing")

1. Do not be idolatrous about or bound to any doctrine, theory, or ideology, even Buddhist ones. Buddhist systems of thought are guiding means; they are not absolute truth.

2. Do not think the knowledge you presently possess is changeless, absolute truth. Avoid being narrow minded and bound to present views. Learn and practice nonattachment from views in order to be open to receive others' viewpoints. Truth is found in life and not merely in conceptual knowledge. Be ready to learn throughout your entire life and to observe reality in yourself and in the world at all times.

3. Do not force others, including children, by any means whatsoever, to adopt your views, whether by authority, threat, money, propaganda, or even education. However, through compassionate dialogue, help others renounce fanaticism and narrow-mindedness.

4. Do not avoid suffering or close your eyes before suffering. Do not lose awareness of the existence of suffering in the life of the world. Find ways to be with those who are suffering, including personal contact, visits, images and sounds. By such means, awaken yourself and others to the reality of suffering in the world.

5. Do not accumulate wealth while millions are hungry. Do not take as the aim of your life fame, profit, wealth, or sensual pleasure. Live simply and share time, energy, and material resources with those who are in need.

6. Do not maintain anger or hatred. Learn to penetrate and transform them when they are still seeds in your consciousness. As soon as they arise, turn your attention to your breath in order to see and understand the nature of your hatred.

7. Do not lose yourself in dispersion and in your surroundings. Practice mindful breathing to come back to what is happening in the present moment. Be in touch with what is wondrous, refreshing, and healing both inside and around you. Plant seeds of joy, peace, and understanding in yourself in order to facilitate the work of transformation in the depths of your consciousness.

8. Do not utter words that can create discord and cause the community to break. Make every effort to reconcile and resolve all conflicts, however small.

9. Do not say untruthful things for the sake of personal interest or to impress people. Do not utter words that cause division and hatred. Do not spread news that you do not know to be certain. Do not criticize or condemn things of which you are not sure. Always speak truthfully and constructively. Have the courage to speak out about situations of injustice, even when doing so may threaten your own safety.

10. Do not use the Buddhist community for personal gain or profit, or transform your community into a political party. A religious community, however, should take a clear stand against oppression and injustice and should strive to change the situation without engaging in partisan conflicts.

11. Do not live with a vocation that is harmful to humans and nature. Do not invest in companies that deprive others of their chance to live.
Select a vocation that helps realize your ideal of compassion.

12. Do not kill. Do not let others kill. Find whatever means possible to protect life and prevent war.

13. Possess nothing that should belong to others. Respect the property of others, but prevent others from profiting from human suffering or the suffering of other species on Earth.

14. Do not mistreat your body. Learn to handle it with respect. Do not look on your body as only an instrument. Preserve vital energies (sexual, breath, spirit) for the realization of the Way. (For brothers and sisters who are not monks and nuns:) Sexual expression should not take place without love and commitment. In sexual relations, be aware of future suffering that may be caused. To preserve the happiness of others, respect the rights and commitments of others. Be fully aware of the responsibility of bringing new lives into the world. Meditate on the world into which you are bringing new beings.
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WORDS FOR IT
I wish I could take language
And fold it like cool, moist rags.
I would lay words on your forehead.
I would wrap words on your wrists.
"There, there," my words would say --
Or something better.
I would ask them to murmur,
"Hush" and "Shh, shhh, it's all right."
I would ask them to hold you all night.
I wish I could take language
And daub and soothe and cool
Where fever blisters and burns,
Where fever turns yourself against you.
I wish I could take language
And heal the wounds that were the wounds
You have no names for.

- Julia Cameron
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. . . I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference." - Robert Frost
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CPR for 2006

Results:

Maintained weight below 195.
Regularly worked out, lots of stretching
Improved diet
Honored my body and heart
More active day time social life, rather than nightlife.
Travel outside of CA 3 times, once outside the country.
Upgraded music collection. Ipod, and home itnues setup.
Lived fully with mindfulness, choice, and ease.
Integrated more playtime in my life.
Worked less, doubled my income.
Regular Legal Assistant hired and trained.
Improved ergonomics of work.
Established and Implemented business goals and plan of action for work.
Purchased a home
Led an inspiring and memorable BM camp
Full social and romantic life
Deepened my friendships
Lived with radical responsibility for my life, my happiness.
Mastered all domains of my life
Empowered those in my life
Moved through my life with ease, grace, confidence, joy, acceptance, appreciation.
Tapped into my intuition, inner muse/genius.
Wrote copious amounts of inspirational, captivating and fun prose and poetry

Context: Now is the Time

Purpose: To manifest the life of my choosing
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On ego, longing, boundaries, and other musings

Feeling as if Rodin’s “The Cruncher,” though prostrate in bed between REMs and blinks, I contemplated a quote. “Everyone wants happiness and doesn’t want suffering.” I repeated it again and again and identify specific people—friends, “non-friends,” neutrals. The metaphor of a triangle came to mind contemplating this quote and recent relationships and circumstances in my life. Some years ago I met a woman, the cat’s meow, a show stopper, dead in one’s tracks. We connected, exchanged numbers. At the moment we met she was “not involved,” but she really was, and soon was back with her beau, but an energetic cord was fastened between her and me. A month later we finally met again for dinner. Again, sparks flew and a slow smoldering began, but her relationship was disclosed, along with her laundry list of reservations about her relationship. I, (and she) sensing our palpable connection ignored this inconvenient fact, hearing her laundry list - a not so subtle invitation. We saw each other periodically, stoking the fire, but never crossing a physical line. We went for lunch, dinner, a show, a dance. I bid my time, trusting a net-less tightrope of a connection, arrogantly, longingly, throwing caution to the wind.

Then my opening came in a visit to my house, in a moment of turbulence for her and passion for us both. Our mouths finally tasted the other, with fore knowledge of the full bounty of the feast. Clothes strewn about, she surrendered before me, answering my prayer, kneeling. I spoke her name, spoken in my mind a thousand times, declaring passionately, lovingly, finally, that our consummation would come when she left her relationship. Wanting a clean slate I postponed our physical union. She later told me she was utterly crushed. Ignorant of such I was the happiest man alive that night. We said good night passionately until the next time. No such night came again, though dances and songs were exchanged, until she recommitted to her relationship. I seductor, was seduced on that high wire, without net. Cord cut, in free fall I suffered my foolishness, my arrogance, my unconsciousness, like a dozen deaths.

Years later I contemplate that perfect tragic romance, seeing a triangle, one of the strongest structures in building, growing, heightening.

I think of other relationships small and large, brief or even imagined, mine or others: I posit that two sides of the triangle represent in a given relationship, each individual’s self awareness, ability to assert their wants, desires, feelings, fears, which ideally we hope is balanced, healthy, strong self-actualization, yet flexible in tenderness, in the give and take.

This is assumed, that each is responsible for their boundaries, energy, feelings, fears, and made reality in deed and word expressed. Then there is another side to this relationship triangle, and that is a mindfulness between the two, for each other, for the other and for oneself, and other involved persons.

It is this third side to the triangle that is often overlooked.

In the tragic romance it was missing. In longing, arrogance, disregard, selfishness.

It is this third side that creates a solid foundation, and sadly it is often overlooked, unbeknownst, or simply ignored, for short term gain or score. And the foundational side is truly the thread that runs through all relationships whether friend, family or lover. And binds family, community as well.

To the extent that this third side of the triangle of any given relationship is ignored or undeveloped, is the extent to which boundaries are violated, other relationships dishonored, and unhealthy attachments created. This side—call it mindfulness is the foundation. A lesson I have learned, hopefully, with great drama, pain and joy. My own (and her) ignorance of this side of mindfulness was the result of my own arrogance, ego, longing, and wounds.

May we each know mindfulness to bring strength, depth and heights to each of our relationships, creating happiness and avoidance of suffering.

-TS 12-19-05
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Come to my house late at night - by Hafiz

Do not be shy.
[I] will be barefoot and dancing

I will be
In such a grand and generous mood!

Come to my door at any hour,
Even if your eyes
Are frightened by my light.
My heart and arms are open
And need no rest -
They will always welcome you.

Come in my dear,
From the harsh world
That has rained elements of stone
Upon your tender face.

Every soul
Should receive a toast from us
For bravery!

Bring all the bottles of wine you own
To this divine table - the earth
We share.

If your cellar is empty,
This whole Universe
Could drink forever
From mine!

Let's dine tonight with exquisite music.
I might even hire angels
To play - just for you.

Look!
Hidden beneath your feet
Is a Luminous Stage
Where we are meant to rehearse
Our Eternal Dance!

And what price is the price
of my Divine Instruction?
What could I ask of you?

All I could ever want
Is that
You have the priceless company
of Someone
Who can Kiss God,

That you have the priceless gift
Of becoming a servant to the Friend!

Come to my window, dear world -
Why ever be shy?

Look inside my playful Verse,
For Hafiz is Barefoot and Dancing
And in such a Grand and Generous -
In such a Fantastic Mood.

Hafiz
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-Tired of speaking sweetly

Love wants to reach out and manhandle us.
break all our teacup talk of God.

if you had the courage and
could give the Beloved Her choice, some nights,
She would just drag you around the room
by your hair,
ripping from your grip all those toys in the world
that brings you no joy.

Love sometimes gets tired of speaking sweetly
and wants to rip to shreds
all your erroneous notions of truth

that make you fight within yourself, dear one,
and with others,

causing the world to weep
on too many fine day.

God wants to manhandle us,
lock us inside a small room with Herself
and practice Her dropkick.

the Beloved sometimes wants
to do us a great favor:

hold us upside down
and shake all the nonsense out.

but when we hear
She is in such a "playful drunken mood"

most everyone i know
quickly packs their bags and hightails it
out of town.

-Hafiz

___________________________________________________

Everything

Today, walking back from the store, I heard a little boy growling at some birds feeding off the sidewalk. A real tiger this one, roaring, scaring the unminding birds, quick to return to their feast. I laughed aloud, immediately taken to those moments, those feelings I remember as a small boy. My dad's nickname for me was Tommy the Tiger. Those moments, however remote in time, feel very present today. The warmth of color, love and laughter, mischief and play, the bigness of it all, yes totally accessible to me today. I was truly loved and held as a small boy. I had a second mother, a nanny, who called me tomate palado - peeled tomato, for my propensity to run around free and wild, in my natural state. How fortunate am I to have had such big love, then and now. It was truly everything, the whole shebang, and it was mine and I hers, one and the same. Today, as a man, I am that boy as the man I am today. Countless memories on top of these first few moments. Yet that early essence remains, under layers of who I have become since those days of bliss. I look back over my life, countless laughter, countless insight, countless moments of play and joy. And sadness too, as I have sought to regain that essence I had as a small boy. A beautiful little boy, full of vigor, love of life, joy, laughter, curiosity, play. I am that small boy, Tommy the Tiger, and that essence is there for me to call upon in any given moment. Now, I am Tom, Thomas, Mr. Wrobel, Sir - a bad ass sob when I need to be, a man capable of just about anything he puts his mind to, powerful, loving, kind, courageous, tender, strong, joyful, melancholic, visionary, absent minded, profound, goofy, deep, far seeing, and on I could go. But really I am that small boy in a Man's body, in a Man's mind, in a Man's heart, in a Man's soul. One and the same with more height, more skill, more experience, and more testosterone, or maybe not. Tommy the Tiger smiling big, growling.

I am aware of everything in my life, sitting on top of the still point, the moment, as if it the head of a needle, ready to be thread and used up.

TS 11/25/05
___________________________________________________

You the dawn and I
the candle of the night retreat!
Smile as you watch me
surrender my soul.

Your hair has stained my heart
so deep, my tomb
will be a bed of violets
when I pass away.

I open my eye to you
on the threshold of hope,
that you'll grant me one more glance
as you cast me from your vision.

How can I thank you enough,
o sorrows, bless you,
when I was alone
you stood by my side.

I am the slave of the pupil
of my eye. From its black heart
when I tell the pain of love
it scatters a thousand tears.

This idol of ours displays her splendor
to every gaze, but the look
I cast from every side
no one sees.

If she like the breeze should pass
the grave of Hafiz, longing,
from within that narrow chamber
I'll tear open the shroud.

-Hafiz
___________________________________________________________

Our life is shaped by our mind; we become what we think. Suffering follows an evil thought as the wheels of a cart follow the oxen that draws it. Our life is shaped by our mind; we become what we think. Joy follows a pure thought like a shadow that never leaves." ~ Buddha, 6th century bce mystic and founder of Buddhism from The Dhammapada

"You are an artist, the work of art is yourself, and the true artist despises perfection, but values and cherishes the flaws humanity demands." ~ Robert Maday

"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."
~ Mark Twain, 19th century US author and humorist

"Oh...! I’ve been meaning to tell you for the longest time, Tom, that... well... concerning the illusions; time and space, the stars at night, the earth under your feet, the oceans, the rivers, the prairies, and everything under the sun...
They’re a-l-l-l-l yours.
Guess I thought you’d have noticed by now.
Oh, yes they are. - The Universe" 11/22

"Retire into yourself as much as possible. Associate with people who are likely to improve you. Welcome those whom you are capable of improving. The process is a mutual one. People learn as they teach." ~ Seneca, from Letters from a Stoic

"If Not Now, When?" ~ Rabbi Hillel (fl. 30 BC-10 AD) Rabbi, Jewish scholar, great spiritual and ethical leader from Mishnah
___________________________________________________

“If you want to fully understand the past, look deeply into the way of things in the present. And if you want to fully understand the future, look deeply into the way of things in the present.” -- Chinese Buddhist scholar T’ien-t’ai

"Now, Now, Right Now! Yea, this is fun! Whoopee. What is that, and that? Can I have one? Why Not? Why is the sky blue? What's Brasilia? Are we there yet? I'm hungry. Where are we? Susie! Stop it, I am going to get you! You can't tickle me!? Stop, stop, no, no fair. Look, cows, horses too. One, Two, . . . seventy-one . . . Let's sing a song. . . Ha ha hahaha ha! I'm tired. We're here! Let's go!"
- Tommy the Tiger, age 5 in a VW bug on way to Brasilia, riding the moment on the rear window ledge.

"Look not mournfully into the past. It comes not back again. Wisely improve the present. It is thine. Go forth to meet the shadowy future, without fear."
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, (1807-1882) American poet

"Then the time came when the risk it took to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom."
~ Anais Nin (1903-1977) American-French writer
___________________________________________________

Discernment, taking a stand, principles, and acting on these is important, and as others have pointed out, doing so with an open mind, compassion, clarity of mind, and respect for one's "adversary" is equally important.

While we can accept the reality we live in and choose not to engage in the flow, the conflict, the dialectic of things, we are nonetheless are participating in that reality. And I for one, having looked high and low at that "reality," fully recognize I am one of the blind trying to feel the elephant. And in connection with others I get a perspective, a handle on it. The illusion is strong and powerful, and yet, I still think it important to attempt to see through the illusions, communicate about the illusion, and act in accordance with my truth to the extent that is right for me, my conscience.

Big fan of discernment, people living their beliefs, and communicating their beliefs to those open to a dialectic.
__

Song of Myself
By Walt Whitman
1819-1892

1

I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.

I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.

My tongue, every atom of my blood, form'd from this soil, this air,
Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their
parents the same,
I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin,
Hoping to cease not till death.

Creeds and schools in abeyance,
Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never forgotten,
I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard,
Nature without check with original energy.

2

Houses and rooms are full of perfumes, the shelves are crowded with
perfumes,
I breathe the fragrance myself and know it and like it,
The distillation would intoxicate me also, but I shall not let it.

The atmosphere is not a perfume, it has no taste of the
distillation, it is odorless,
It is for my mouth forever, I am in love with it,
I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and naked,
I am mad for it to be in contact with me.

The smoke of my own breath,
Echoes, ripples, buzz'd whispers, love-root, silk-thread, crotch and vine,
My respiration and inspiration, the beating of my heart, the passing
of blood and air through my lungs,
The sniff of green leaves and dry leaves, and of the shore and
dark-color'd sea-rocks, and of hay in the barn,

The sound of the belch'd words of my voice loos'd to the eddies of
the wind,
A few light kisses, a few embraces, a reaching around of arms,
The play of shine and shade on the trees as the supple boughs wag,
The delight alone or in the rush of the streets, or along the fields
and hill-sides,
The feeling of health, the full-noon trill, the song of me rising
from bed and meeting the sun.

Have you reckon'd a thousand acres much? have you reckon'd the earth much?
Have you practis'd so long to learn to read?
Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems?

Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of
all poems,
You shall possess the good of the earth and sun, (there are millions
of suns left,)
You shall no longer take things at second or third hand, nor look through
the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the spectres in books,
You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me,
You shall listen to all sides and filter them from your self.

3

I have heard what the talkers were talking, the talk of the
beginning and the end,
But I do not talk of the beginning or the end.

There was never any more inception than there is now,
Nor any more youth or age than there is now,
And will never be any more perfection than there is now,
Nor any more heaven or hell than there is now.

Urge and urge and urge,
Always the procreant urge of the world.

Out of the dimness opposite equals advance, always substance and
increase, always sex,
Always a knit of identity, always distinction, always a breed of life.
To elaborate is no avail, learn'd and unlearn'd feel that it is so.

Sure as the most certain sure, plumb in the uprights, well
entretied, braced in the beams,
Stout as a horse, affectionate, haughty, electrical,
I and this mystery here we stand.

Clear and sweet is my soul, and clear and sweet is all that is not my soul.

Lack one lacks both, and the unseen is proved by the seen,
Till that becomes unseen and receives proof in its turn.

Showing the best and dividing it from the worst age vexes age,
Knowing the perfect fitness and equanimity of things, while they
discuss I am silent, and go bathe and admire myself.

Welcome is every organ and attribute of me, and of any man hearty and clean,
Not an inch nor a particle of an inch is vile, and none shall be
less familiar than the rest.

I am satisfied--I see, dance, laugh, sing;
As the hugging and loving bed-fellow sleeps at my side through the night,
and withdraws at the peep of the day with stealthy tread,
Leaving me baskets cover'd with white towels swelling the house with
their plenty,
Shall I postpone my acceptation and realization and scream at my eyes,
That they turn from gazing after and down the road,
And forthwith cipher and show me to a cent,
Exactly the value of one and exactly the value of two, and which is ahead?

4

Trippers and askers surround me,
People I meet, the effect upon me of my early life or the ward and
city I live in, or the nation,
The latest dates, discoveries, inventions, societies, authors old and new,
My dinner, dress, associates, looks, compliments, dues,
The real or fancied indifference of some man or woman I love,
The sickness of one of my folks or of myself, or ill-doing or loss
or lack of money, or depressions or exaltations,
Battles, the horrors of fratricidal war, the fever of doubtful news,
the fitful events;
These come to me days and nights and go from me again,
But they are not the Me myself.

Apart from the pulling and hauling stands what I am,
Stands amused, complacent, compassionating, idle, unitary,
Looks down, is erect, or bends an arm on an impalpable certain rest,
Looking with side-curved head curious what will come next,
Both in and out of the game and watching and wondering at it.

Backward I see in my own days where I sweated through fog with
linguists and contenders,
I have no mockings or arguments, I witness and wait.

5

I believe in you my soul, the other I am must not abase itself to you,
And you must not be abased to the other.

Loafe with me on the grass, loose the stop from your throat,
Not words, not music or rhyme I want, not custom or lecture, not
even the best,
Only the lull I like, the hum of your valved voice.

I mind how once we lay such a transparent summer morning,
How you settled your head athwart my hips and gently turn'd over upon me,
And parted the shirt from my bosom-bone, and plunged your tongue
to my bare-stript heart,
And reach'd till you felt my beard, and reach'd till you held my feet.

Swiftly arose and spread around me the peace and knowledge that pass
all the argument of the earth,
And I know that the hand of God is the promise of my own,
And I know that the spirit of God is the brother of my own,
And that all the men ever born are also my brothers, and the women
my sisters and lovers,
And that a kelson of the creation is love,
And limitless are leaves stiff or drooping in the fields,
And brown ants in the little wells beneath them,
And mossy scabs of the worm fence, heap'd stones, elder, mullein and
poke-weed.

6

A child said What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands;
How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more than he.

I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green
stuff woven.

Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord,
A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropt,
Bearing the owner's name someway in the corners, that we may see
and remark, and say Whose?

Or I guess the grass is itself a child, the produced babe of the vegetation.

Or I guess it is a uniform hieroglyphic,
And it means, Sprouting alike in broad zones and narrow zones,
Growing among black folks as among white,
Kanuck, Tuckahoe, Congressman, Cuff, I give them the same, I
receive them the same.

And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves.

Tenderly will I use you curling grass,
It may be you transpire from the breasts of young men,
It may be if I had known them I would have loved them,
It may be you are from old people, or from offspring taken soon out
of their mothers' laps,
And here you are the mothers' laps.

This grass is very dark to be from the white heads of old mothers,
Darker than the colorless beards of old men,
Dark to come from under the faint red roofs of mouths.

O I perceive after all so many uttering tongues,
And I perceive they do not come from the roofs of mouths for nothing.

I wish I could translate the hints about the dead young men and women,
And the hints about old men and mothers, and the offspring taken
soon out of their laps.

What do you think has become of the young and old men?
And what do you think has become of the women and children?

They are alive and well somewhere,
The smallest sprout shows there is really no death,
And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at the
end to arrest it,
And ceas'd the moment life appear'd.

All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses,
And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.

7

Has any one supposed it lucky to be born?
I hasten to inform him or her it is just as lucky to die, and I know it.

I pass death with the dying and birth with the new-wash'd babe, and
am not contain'd between my hat and boots,
And peruse manifold objects, no two alike and every one good,
The earth good and the stars good, and their adjuncts all good.

I am not an earth nor an adjunct of an earth,
I am the mate and companion of people, all just as immortal and
fathomless as myself,
(They do not know how immortal, but I know.)

Every kind for itself and its own, for me mine male and female,
For me those that have been boys and that love women,
For me the man that is proud and feels how it stings to be slighted,
For me the sweet-heart and the old maid, for me mothers and the
mothers of mothers,
For me lips that have smiled, eyes that have shed tears,
For me children and the begetters of children.

Undrape! you are not guilty to me, nor stale nor discarded,
I see through the broadcloth and gingham whether or no,
And am around, tenacious, acquisitive, tireless, and cannot be shaken away.

8

The little one sleeps in its cradle,
I lift the gauze and look a long time, and silently brush away flies
with my hand.

The youngster and the red-faced girl turn aside up the bushy hill,
I peeringly view them from the top.

The suicide sprawls on the bloody floor of the bedroom,
I witness the corpse with its dabbled hair, I note where the pistol
has fallen.

The blab of the pave, tires of carts, sluff of boot-soles, talk of
the promenaders,
The heavy omnibus, the driver with his interrogating thumb, the
clank of the shod horses on the granite floor,
The snow-sleighs, clinking, shouted jokes, pelts of snow-balls,
The hurrahs for popular favorites, the fury of rous'd mobs,
The flap of the curtain'd litter, a sick man inside borne to the hospital,
The meeting of enemies, the sudden oath, the blows and fall,
The excited crowd, the policeman with his star quickly working his
passage to the centre of the crowd,
The impassive stones that receive and return so many echoes,
What groans of over-fed or half-starv'd who fall sunstruck or in fits,
What exclamations of women taken suddenly who hurry home and
give birth to babes,
What living and buried speech is always vibrating here, what howls
restrain'd by decorum,
Arrests of criminals, slights, adulterous offers made, acceptances,
rejections with convex lips,
I mind them or the show or resonance of them--I come and I depart.

9

The big doors of the country barn stand open and ready,
The dried grass of the harvest-time loads the slow-drawn wagon,
The clear light plays on the brown gray and green intertinged,
The armfuls are pack'd to the sagging mow.

I am there, I help, I came stretch'd atop of the load,
I felt its soft jolts, one leg reclined on the other,
I jump from the cross-beams and seize the clover and timothy,
And roll head over heels and tangle my hair full of wisps.

10

Alone far in the wilds and mountains I hunt,
Wandering amazed at my own lightness and glee,
In the late afternoon choosing a safe spot to pass the night,
Kindling a fire and broiling the fresh-kill'd game,
Falling asleep on the gather'd leaves with my dog and gun by my side.

The Yankee clipper is under her sky-sails, she cuts the sparkle and scud,
My eyes settle the land, I bend at her prow or shout joyously from the deck.

The boatmen and clam-diggers arose early and stopt for me,
I tuck'd my trowser-ends in my boots and went and had a good time;
You should have been with us that day round the chowder-kettle.

I saw the marriage of the trapper in the open air in the far west,
the bride was a red girl,
Her father and his friends sat near cross-legged and dumbly smoking,
they had moccasins to their feet and large thick blankets
hanging from their shoulders,
On a bank lounged the trapper, he was drest mostly in skins, his luxuriant
beard and curls protected his neck, he held his bride by the hand,
She had long eyelashes, her head was bare, her coarse straight locks
descended upon her voluptuous limbs and reach'd to her feet.

The runaway slave came to my house and stopt outside,
I heard his motions crackling the twigs of the woodpile,
Through the swung half-door of the kitchen I saw him limpsy and weak,
And went where he sat on a log and led him in and assured him,
And brought water and fill'd a tub for his sweated body and bruis'd feet,
And gave him a room that enter'd from my own, and gave him some
coarse clean clothes,
And remember perfectly well his revolving eyes and his awkwardness,
And remember putting piasters on the galls of his neck and ankles;
He staid with me a week before he was recuperated and pass'd north,
I had him sit next me at table, my fire-lock lean'd in the corner.

11

Twenty-eight young men bathe by the shore,
Twenty-eight young men and all so friendly;
Twenty-eight years of womanly life and all so lonesome.

She owns the fine house by the rise of the bank,
She hides handsome and richly drest aft the blinds of the window.

Which of the young men does she like the best?
Ah the homeliest of them is beautiful to her.

Where are you off to, lady? for I see you,
You splash in the water there, yet stay stock still in your room.

Dancing and laughing along the beach came the twenty-ninth bather,
The rest did not see her, but she saw them and loved them.

The beards of the young men glisten'd with wet, it ran from their long hair,
Little streams pass'd all over their bodies.

An unseen hand also pass'd over their bodies,
It descended tremblingly from their temples and ribs.

The young men float on their backs, their white bellies bulge to the
sun, they do not ask who seizes fast to them,
They do not know who puffs and declines with pendant and bending arch,
They do not think whom they souse with spray.

12

The butcher-boy puts off his killing-clothes, or sharpens his knife
at the stall in the market,
I loiter enjoying his repartee and his shuffle and break-down.

Blacksmiths with grimed and hairy chests environ the anvil,
Each has his main-sledge, they are all out, there is a great heat in
the fire.

From the cinder-strew'd threshold I follow their movements,
The lithe sheer of their waists plays even with their massive arms,
Overhand the hammers swing, overhand so slow, overhand so sure,
They do not hasten, each man hits in his place.

13

The negro holds firmly the reins of his four horses, the block swags
underneath on its tied-over chain,
The negro that drives the long dray of the stone-yard, steady and
tall he stands pois'd on one leg on the string-piece,
His blue shirt exposes his ample neck and breast and loosens over
his hip-band,
His glance is calm and commanding, he tosses the slouch of his hat
away from his forehead,
The sun falls on his crispy hair and mustache, falls on the black of
his polish'd and perfect limbs.

I behold the picturesque giant and love him, and I do not stop there,
I go with the team also.

In me the caresser of life wherever moving, backward as well as
forward sluing,
To niches aside and junior bending, not a person or object missing,
Absorbing all to myself and for this song.

Oxen that rattle the yoke and chain or halt in the leafy shade, what
is that you express in your eyes?
It seems to me more than all the print I have read in my life.

My tread scares the wood-drake and wood-duck on my distant and
day-long ramble,
They rise together, they slowly circle around.

I believe in those wing'd purposes,
And acknowledge red, yellow, white, playing within me,
And consider green and violet and the tufted crown intentional,
And do not call the tortoise unworthy because she is not something else,
And the in the woods never studied the gamut, yet trills pretty well to me,
And the look of the bay mare shames silliness out of me.

14

The wild gander leads his flock through the cool night,
Ya-honk he says, and sounds it down to me like an invitation,
The pert may suppose it meaningless, but I listening close,
Find its purpose and place up there toward the wintry sky.

The sharp-hoof'd moose of the north, the cat on the house-sill, the
chickadee, the prairie-dog,
The litter of the grunting sow as they tug at her teats,
The brood of the turkey-hen and she with her half-spread wings,
I see in them and myself the same old law.

The press of my foot to the earth springs a hundred affections,
They scorn the best I can do to relate them.

I am enamour'd of growing out-doors,
Of men that live among cattle or taste of the ocean or woods,
Of the builders and steerers of ships and the wielders of axes and
mauls, and the drivers of horses,
I can eat and sleep with them week in and week out.

What is commonest, cheapest, nearest, easiest, is Me,
Me going in for my chances, spending for vast returns,
Adorning myself to bestow myself on the first that will take me,
Not asking the sky to come down to my good will,
Scattering it freely forever.

15

The pure contralto sings in the organ loft,
The carpenter dresses his plank, the tongue of his foreplane
whistles its wild ascending lisp,
The married and unmarried children ride home to their Thanksgiving dinner,
The pilot seizes the king-pin, he heaves down with a strong arm,
The mate stands braced in the whale-boat, lance and harpoon are ready,
The duck-shooter walks by silent and cautious stretches,
The deacons are ordain'd with cross'd hands at the altar,
The spinning-girl retreats and advances to the hum of the big wheel,
The farmer stops by the bars as he walks on a First-day loafe and
looks at the oats and rye,
The lunatic is carried at last to the asylum a confirm'd case,
(He will never sleep any more as he did in the cot in his mother's
bed-room;)
The jour printer with gray head and gaunt jaws works at his case,
He turns his quid of tobacco while his eyes blurr with the manuscript;
The malform'd limbs are tied to the surgeon's table,
What is removed drops horribly in a pail;
The quadroon girl is sold at the auction-stand, the drunkard nods by
the bar-room stove,
The machinist rolls up his sleeves, the policeman travels his beat,
the gate-keeper marks who pass,
The young fellow drives the express-wagon, (I love him, though I do
not know him;)
The half-breed straps on his light boots to compete in the race,
The western turkey-shooting draws old and young, some lean on their
rifles, some sit on logs,
Out from the crowd steps the marksman, takes his position, levels his piece;
The groups of newly-come immigrants cover the wharf or levee,
As the woolly-pates hoe in the sugar-field, the overseer views them
from his saddle,
The bugle calls in the ball-room, the gentlemen run for their
partners, the dancers bow to each other,
The youth lies awake in the cedar-roof'd garret and harks to the
musical rain,
The Wolverine sets traps on the creek that helps fill the Huron,
The squaw wrapt in her yellow-hemm'd cloth is offering moccasins and
bead-bags for sale,
The connoisseur peers along the exhibition-gallery with half-shut
eyes bent sideways,
As the deck-hands make fast the steamboat the plank is thrown for
the shore-going passengers,
The young sister holds out the skein while the elder sister winds it
off in a ball, and stops now and then for the knots,
The one-year wife is recovering and happy having a week ago borne
her first child,
The clean-hair'd Yankee girl works with her sewing-machine or in the
factory or mill,
The paving-man leans on his two-handed rammer, the reporter's lead
flies swiftly over the note-book, the sign-painter is lettering
with blue and gold,
The canal boy trots on the tow-path, the book-keeper counts at his
desk, the shoemaker waxes his thread,
The conductor beats time for the band and all the performers follow him,
The child is baptized, the convert is making his first professions,
The regatta is spread on the bay, the race is begun, (how the white
sails sparkle!)
The drover watching his drove sings out to them that would stray,
The pedler sweats with his pack on his back, (the purchaser higgling
about the odd cent;)
The bride unrumples her white dress, the minute-hand of the clock
moves slowly,
The opium-eater reclines with rigid head and just-open'd lips,
The prostitute draggles her shawl, her bonnet bobs on her tipsy and
pimpled neck,
The crowd laugh at her blackguard oaths, the men jeer and wink to
each other,
(Miserable! I do not laugh at your oaths nor jeer you;)
The President holding a cabinet council is surrounded by the great
Secretaries,
On the piazza walk three matrons stately and friendly with twined arms,
The crew of the fish-smack pack repeated layers of halibut in the hold,
The Missourian crosses the plains toting his wares and his cattle,
As the fare-collector goes through the train he gives notice by the
jingling of loose change,
The floor-men are laying the floor, the tinners are tinning the
roof, the masons are calling for mortar,
In single file each shouldering his hod pass onward the laborers;
Seasons pursuing each other the indescribable crowd is gather'd, it
is the fourth of Seventh-month, (what salutes of cannon and small arms!)
Seasons pursuing each other the plougher ploughs, the mower mows,
and the winter-grain falls in the ground;
Off on the lakes the pike-fisher watches and waits by the hole in
the frozen surface,
The stumps stand thick round the clearing, the squatter strikes deep
with his axe,
Flatboatmen make fast towards dusk near the cotton-wood or pecan-trees,
Coon-seekers go through the regions of the Red river or through
those drain'd by the Tennessee, or through those of the Arkansas,
Torches shine in the dark that hangs on the Chattahooche or Altamahaw,
Patriarchs sit at supper with sons and grandsons and great-grandsons
around them,
In walls of adobie, in canvas tents, rest hunters and trappers after
their day's sport,
The city sleeps and the country sleeps,
The living sleep for their time, the dead sleep for their time,
The old husband sleeps by his wife and the young husband sleeps by his wife;
And these tend inward to me, and I tend outward to them,
And such as it is to be of these more or less I am,
And of these one and all I weave the song of myself.

16

I am of old and young, of the foolish as much as the wise,
Regardless of others, ever regardful of others,
Maternal as well as paternal, a child as well as a man,
Stuff'd with the stuff that is coarse and stuff'd with the stuff
that is fine,
One of the Nation of many nations, the smallest the same and the
largest the same,
A Southerner soon as a Northerner, a planter nonchalant and
hospitable down by the Oconee I live,
A Yankee bound my own way ready for trade, my joints the limberest
joints on earth and the sternest joints on earth,
A Kentuckian walking the vale of the Elkhorn in my deer-skin
leggings, a Louisianian or Georgian,
A boatman over lakes or bays or along coasts, a Hoosier, Badger, Buckeye;
At home on Kanadian snow-shoes or up in the bush, or with fishermen
off Newfoundland,
At home in the fleet of ice-boats, sailing with the rest and tacking,
At home on the hills of Vermont or in the woods of Maine, or the
Texan ranch,
Comrade of Californians, comrade of free North-Westerners, (loving
their big proportions,)
Comrade of raftsmen and coalmen, comrade of all who shake hands
and welcome to drink and meat,
A learner with the simplest, a teacher of the thoughtfullest,
A novice beginning yet experient of myriads of seasons,
Of every hue and caste am I, of every rank and religion,
A farmer, mechanic, artist, gentleman, sailor, quaker,
Prisoner, fancy-man, rowdy, lawyer, physician, priest.

I resist any thing better than my own diversity,
Breathe the air but leave plenty after me,
And am not stuck up, and am in my place.

(The moth and the fish-eggs are in their place,
The bright suns I see and the dark suns I cannot see are in their place,
The palpable is in its place and the impalpable is in its place.)

17

These are really the thoughts of all men in all ages and lands, they
are not original with me,
If they are not yours as much as mine they are nothing, or next to nothing,
If they are not the riddle and the untying of the riddle they are nothing,
If they are not just as close as they are distant they are nothing.

This is the grass that grows wherever the land is and the water is,
This the common air that bathes the globe.

18

With music strong I come, with my cornets and my drums,
I play not marches for accepted victors only, I play marches for
conquer'd and slain persons.

Have you heard that it was good to gain the day?
I also say it is good to fall, battles are lost in the same spirit
in which they are won.

I beat and pound for the dead,
I blow through my embouchures my loudest and gayest for them.

Vivas to those who have fail'd!
And to those whose war-vessels sank in the sea!
And to those themselves who sank in the sea!
And to all generals that lost engagements, and all overcome heroes!
And the numberless unknown heroes equal to the greatest heroes known!

19

This is the meal equally set, this the meat for natural hunger,
It is for the wicked just same as the righteous, I make appointments
with all,
I will not have a single person slighted or left away,
The kept-woman, sponger, thief, are hereby invited,
The heavy-lipp'd slave is invited, the venerealee is invited;
There shall be no difference between them and the rest.

This is the press of a bashful hand, this the float and odor of hair,
This the touch of my lips to yours, this the murmur of yearning,
This the far-off depth and height reflecting my own face,
This the thoughtful merge of myself, and the outlet again.

Do you guess I have some intricate purpose?
Well I have, for the Fourth-month showers have, and the mica on the
side of a rock has.

Do you take it I would astonish?
Does the daylight astonish? does the early redstart twittering
through the woods?
Do I astonish more than they?

This hour I tell things in confidence,
I might not tell everybody, but I will tell you.

20

Who goes there? hankering, gross, mystical, nude;
How is it I extract strength from the beef I eat?

What is a man anyhow? what am I? what are you?

All I mark as my own you shall offset it with your own,
Else it were time lost listening to me.

I do not snivel that snivel the world over,
That months are vacuums and the ground but wallow and filth.

Whimpering and truckling fold with powders for invalids, conformity
goes to the fourth-remov'd,
I wear my hat as I please indoors or out.

Why should I pray? why should I venerate and be ceremonious?

Having pried through the strata, analyzed to a hair, counsel'd with
doctors and calculated close,
I find no sweeter fat than sticks to my own bones.

In all people I see myself, none more and not one a barley-corn less,
And the good or bad I say of myself I say of them.

I know I am solid and sound,
To me the converging objects of the universe perpetually flow,
All are written to me, and I must get what the writing means.

I know I am deathless,
I know this orbit of mine cannot be swept by a carpenter's compass,
I know I shall not pass like a child's carlacue cut with a burnt
stick at night.

I know I am august,
I do not trouble my spirit to vindicate itself or be understood,
I see that the elementary laws never apologize,
(I reckon I behave no prouder than the level I plant my house by,
after all.)

I exist as I am, that is enough,
If no other in the world be aware I sit content,
And if each and all be aware I sit content.

One world is aware and by far the largest to me, and that is myself,
And whether I come to my own to-day or in ten thousand or ten
million years,
I can cheerfully take it now, or with equal cheerfulness I can wait.

My foothold is tenon'd and mortis'd in granite,
I laugh at what you call dissolution,
And I know the amplitude of time.

21

I am the poet of the Body and I am the poet of the Soul,
The pleasures of heaven are with me and the pains of hell are with me,
The first I graft and increase upon myself, the latter I translate
into new tongue.

I am the poet of the woman the same as the man,
And I say it is as great to be a woman as to be a man,
And I say there is nothing greater than the mother of men.

I chant the chant of dilation or pride,
We have had ducking and deprecating about enough,
I show that size is only development.

Have you outstript the rest? are you the President?
It is a trifle, they will more than arrive there every one, and
still pass on.

I am he that walks with the tender and growing night,
I call to the earth and sea half-held by the night.

Press close bare-bosom'd night--press close magnetic nourishing night!
Night of south winds--night of the large few stars!
Still nodding night--mad naked summer night.

Smile O voluptuous cool-breath'd earth!
Earth of the slumbering and liquid trees!
Earth of departed sunset--earth of the mountains misty-topt!
Earth of the vitreous pour of the full moon just tinged with blue!
Earth of shine and dark mottling the tide of the river!
Earth of the limpid gray of clouds brighter and clearer for my sake!
Far-swooping elbow'd earth--rich apple-blossom'd earth!
Smile, for your lover comes.

Prodigal, you have given me love--therefore I to you give love!
O unspeakable passionate love.

22

You sea! I resign myself to you also--I guess what you mean,
I behold from the beach your crooked fingers,
I believe you refuse to go back without feeling of me,
We must have a turn together, I undress, hurry me out of sight of the land,
Cushion me soft, rock me in billowy drowse,
Dash me with amorous wet, I can repay you.

Sea of stretch'd ground-swells,
Sea breathing broad and convulsive breaths,
Sea of the brine of life and of unshovell'd yet always-ready graves,
Howler and scooper of storms, capricious and dainty sea,
I am integral with you, I too am of one phase and of all phases.

Partaker of influx and efflux I, extoller of hate and conciliation,
Extoller of amies and those that sleep in each others' arms.

I am he attesting sympathy,
(Shall I make my list of things in the house and skip the house that
supports them?)

I am not the poet of goodness only, I do not decline to be the poet
of wickedness also.

What blurt is this about virtue and about vice?
Evil propels me and reform of evil propels me, I stand indifferent,
My gait is no fault-finder's or rejecter's gait,
I moisten the roots of all that has grown.

Did you fear some scrofula out of the unflagging pregnancy?
Did you guess the celestial laws are yet to be work'd over and rectified?

I find one side a balance and the antipedal side a balance,
Soft doctrine as steady help as stable doctrine,
Thoughts and deeds of the present our rouse and early start.

This minute that comes to me over the past decillions,
There is no better than it and now.

What behaved well in the past or behaves well to-day is not such wonder,
The wonder is always and always how there can be a mean man or an infidel.

23

Endless unfolding of words of ages!
And mine a word of the modern, the word En-Masse.

A word of the faith that never balks,
Here or henceforward it is all the same to me, I accept Time absolutely.

It alone is without flaw, it alone rounds and completes all,
That mystic baffling wonder alone completes all.

I accept Reality and dare not question it,
Materialism first and last imbuing.

Hurrah for positive science! long live exact demonstration!
Fetch stonecrop mixt with cedar and branches of lilac,
This is the lexicographer, this the chemist, this made a grammar of
the old cartouches,
These mariners put the ship through dangerous unknown seas.
This is the geologist, this works with the scalper, and this is a
mathematician.

Gentlemen, to you the first honors always!
Your facts are useful, and yet they are not my dwelling,
I but enter by them to an area of my dwelling.

Less the reminders of properties told my words,
And more the reminders they of life untold, and of freedom and extrication,
And make short account of neuters and geldings, and favor men and
women fully equipt,
And beat the gong of revolt, and stop with fugitives and them that
plot and conspire.

24

Walt Whitman, a kosmos, of Manhattan the son,
Turbulent, fleshy, sensual, eating, drinking and breeding,
No sentimentalist, no stander above men and women or apart from them,
No more modest than immodest.

Unscrew the locks from the doors!
Unscrew the doors themselves from their jambs!

Whoever degrades another degrades me,
And whatever is done or said returns at last to me.

Through me the afflatus surging and surging, through me the current
and index.

I speak the pass-word primeval, I give the sign of democracy,
By God! I will accept nothing which all cannot have their
counterpart of on the same terms.

Through me many long dumb voices,
Voices of the interminable generations of prisoners and slaves,
Voices of the diseas'd and despairing and of thieves and dwarfs,
Voices of cycles of preparation and accretion,
And of the threads that connect the stars, and of wombs and of the
father-stuff,
And of the rights of them the others are down upon,
Of the deform'd, trivial, flat, foolish, despised,
Fog in the air, beetles rolling balls of dung.

Through me forbidden voices,
Voices of sexes and lusts, voices veil'd and I remove the veil,
Voices indecent by me clarified and transfigur'd.

I do not press my fingers across my mouth,
I keep as delicate around the bowels as around the head and heart,
Copulation is no more rank to me than death is.

I believe in the flesh and the appetites,
Seeing, hearing, feeling, are miracles, and each part and tag of me
is a miracle.

Divine am I inside and out, and I make holy whatever I touch or am
touch'd from,
The scent of these arm-pits aroma finer than prayer,
This head more than churches, bibles, and all the creeds.

If I worship one thing more than another it shall be the spread of
my own body, or any part of it,
Translucent mould of me it shall be you!
Shaded ledges and rests it shall be you!
Firm masculine colter it shall be you!
Whatever goes to the tilth of me it shall be you!
You my rich blood! your milky stream pale strippings of my life!
Breast that presses against other breasts it shall be you!
My brain it shall be your occult convolutions!
Root of wash'd sweet-flag! timorous pond-snipe! nest of guarded
duplicate eggs! it shall be you!
Mix'd tussled hay of head, beard, brawn, it shall be you!
Trickling sap of maple, fibre of manly wheat, it shall be you!
Sun so generous it shall be you!
Vapors lighting and shading my face it shall be you!
You sweaty brooks and dews it shall be you!
Winds whose soft-tickling genitals rub against me it shall be you!
Broad muscular fields, branches of live oak, loving lounger in my
winding paths, it shall be you!
Hands I have taken, face I have kiss'd, mortal I have ever touch'd,
it shall be you.

I dote on myself, there is that lot of me and all so luscious,
Each moment and whatever happens thrills me with joy,
I cannot tell how my ankles bend, nor whence the cause of my faintest wish,
Nor the cause of the friendship I emit, nor the cause of the
friendship I take again.

That I walk up my stoop, I pause to consider if it really be,
A morning-glory at my window satisfies me more than the metaphysics
of books.

To behold the day-break!
The little light fades the immense and diaphanous shadows,
The air tastes good to my palate.

Hefts of the moving world at innocent gambols silently rising
freshly exuding,
Scooting obliquely high and low.

Something I cannot see puts upward libidinous prongs,
Seas of bright juice suffuse heaven.

The earth by the sky staid with, the daily close of their junction,
The heav'd challenge from the east that moment over my head,
The mocking taunt, See then whether you shall be master!

25

Dazzling and tremendous how quick the sun-rise would kill me,
If I could not now and always send sun-rise out of me.

We also ascend dazzling and tremendous as the sun,
We found our own O my soul in the calm and cool of the daybreak.

My voice goes after what my eyes cannot reach,
With the twirl of my tongue I encompass worlds and volumes of worlds.

Speech is the twin of my vision, it is unequal to measure itself,
It provokes me forever, it says sarcastically,
Walt you contain enough, why don't you let it out then?

Come now I will not be tantalized, you conceive too much of
articulation,
Do you not know O speech how the buds beneath you are folded?
Waiting in gloom, protected by frost,
The dirt receding before my prophetical screams,
I underlying causes to balance them at last,
My knowledge my live parts, it keeping tally with the meaning of all things,
Happiness, (which whoever hears me let him or her set out in search
of this day.)

My final merit I refuse you, I refuse putting from me what I really am,
Encompass worlds, but never try to encompass me,
I crowd your sleekest and best by simply looking toward you.

Writing and talk do not prove me,
I carry the plenum of proof and every thing else in my face,
With the hush of my lips I wholly confound the skeptic.

26

Now I will do nothing but listen,
To accrue what I hear into this song, to let sounds contribute toward it.

I hear bravuras of birds, bustle of growing wheat, gossip of flames,
clack of sticks cooking my meals,
I hear the sound I love, the sound of the human voice,
I hear all sounds running together, combined, fused or following,
Sounds of the city and sounds out of the city, sounds of the day and night,
Talkative young ones to those that like them, the loud laugh of
work-people at their meals,
The angry base of disjointed friendship, the faint tones of the sick,
The judge with hands tight to the desk, his pallid lips pronouncing
a death-sentence,
The heave'e'yo of stevedores unlading ships by the wharves, the
refrain of the anchor-lifters,
The ring of alarm-bells, the cry of fire, the whirr of swift-streaking
engines and hose-carts with premonitory tinkles and color'd lights,
The steam-whistle, the solid roll of the train of approaching cars,
The slow march play'd at the head of the association marching two and two,
(They go to guard some corpse, the flag-tops are draped with black muslin.)

I hear the violoncello, ('tis the young man's heart's complaint,)
I hear the key'd cornet, it glides quickly in through my ears,
It shakes mad-sweet pangs through my belly and breast.

I hear the chorus, it is a grand opera,
Ah this indeed is music--this suits me.

A tenor large and fresh as the creation fills me,
The orbic flex of his mouth is pouring and filling me full.

I hear the train'd soprano (what work with hers is this?)
The orchestra whirls me wider than Uranus flies,
It wrenches such ardors from me I did not know I possess'd them,
It sails me, I dab with bare feet, they are lick'd by the indolent waves,
I am cut by bitter and angry hail, I lose my breath,
Steep'd amid honey'd morphine, my windpipe throttled in fakes of death,
At length let up again to feel the puzzle of puzzles,
And that we call Being.

27

To be in any form, what is that?
(Round and round we go, all of us, and ever come back thither,)
If nothing lay more develop'd the quahaug in its callous shell were enough.

Mine is no callous shell,
I have instant conductors all over me whether I pass or stop,
They seize every object and lead it harmlessly through me.

I merely stir, press, feel with my fingers, and am happy,
To touch my person to some one else's is about as much as I can stand.

28

Is this then a touch? quivering me to a new identity,
Flames and ether making a rush for my veins,
Treacherous tip of me reaching and crowding to help them,
My flesh and blood playing out lightning to strike what is hardly
different from myself,
On all sides prurient provokers stiffening my limbs,
Straining the udder of my heart for its withheld drip,
Behaving licentious toward me, taking no denial,
Depriving me of my best as for a purpose,
Unbuttoning my clothes, holding me by the bare waist,
Deluding my confusion with the calm of the sunlight and pasture-fields,
Immodestly sliding the fellow-senses away,
They bribed to swap off with touch and go and graze at the edges of me,
No consideration, no regard for my draining strength or my anger,
Fetching the rest of the herd around to enjoy them a while,
Then all uniting to stand on a headland and worry me.

The sentries desert every other part of me,
They have left me helpless to a red marauder,
They all come to the headland to witness and assist against me.

I am given up by traitors,
I talk wildly, I have lost my wits, I and nobody else am the
greatest traitor,
I went myself first to the headland, my own hands carried me there.

You villain touch! what are you doing? my breath is tight in its throat,
Unclench your floodgates, you are too much for me.

29

Blind loving wrestling touch, sheath'd hooded sharp-tooth'd touch!
Did it make you ache so, leaving me?

Parting track'd by arriving, perpetual payment of perpetual loan,
Rich showering rain, and recompense richer afterward.

Sprouts take and accumulate, stand by the curb prolific and vital,
Landscapes projected masculine, full-sized and golden.

30

All truths wait in all things,
They neither hasten their own delivery nor resist it,
They do not need the obstetric forceps of the surgeon,
The insignificant is as big to me as any,
(What is less or more than a touch?)

Logic and sermons never convince,
The damp of the night drives deeper into my soul.

(Only what proves itself to every man and woman is so,
Only what nobody denies is so.)

A minute and a drop of me settle my brain,
I believe the soggy clods shall become lovers and lamps,
And a compend of compends is the meat of a man or woman,
And a summit and flower there is the feeling they have for each other,
And they are to branch boundlessly out of that lesson until it
becomes omnific,
And until one and all shall delight us, and we them.

31

I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey work of the stars,
And the pismire is equally perfect, and a grain of sand, and the egg
of the wren,
And the tree-toad is a chef-d'oeuvre for the highest,
And the running blackberry would adorn the parlors of heaven,
And the narrowest hinge in my hand puts to scorn all machinery,
And the cow crunching with depress'd head surpasses any statue,
And a mouse is miracle enough to stagger sextillions of infidels.

I find I incorporate gneiss, coal, long-threaded moss, fruits,
grains, esculent roots,
And am stucco'd with quadrupeds and birds all over,
And have distanced what is behind me for good reasons,
But call any thing back again when I desire it.

In vain the speeding or shyness,
In vain the plutonic rocks send their old heat against my approach,
In vain the mastodon retreats beneath its own powder'd bones,
In vain objects stand leagues off and assume manifold shapes,
In vain the ocean settling in hollows and the great monsters lying low,
In vain the buzzard houses herself with the sky,
In vain the snake slides through the creepers and logs,
In vain the elk takes to the inner passes of the woods,
In vain the razor-bill'd auk sails far north to Labrador,
I follow quickly, I ascend to the nest in the fissure of the cliff.

32

I think I could turn and live with animals, they are so placid and
self-contain'd,
I stand and look at them long and long.

They do not sweat and whine about their condition,
They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins,
They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God,
Not one is dissatisfied, not one is demented with the mania of
owning things,
Not one kneels to another, nor to his kind that lived thousands of
years ago,
Not one is respectable or unhappy over the whole earth.

So they show their relations to me and I accept them,
They bring me tokens of myself, they evince them plainly in their
possession.

I wonder where they get those tokens,
Did I pass that way huge times ago and negligently drop them?

Myself moving forward then and now and forever,
Gathering and showing more always and with velocity,
Infinite and omnigenous, and the like of these among them,
Not too exclusive toward the reachers of my remembrancers,
Picking out here one that I love, and now go with him on brotherly terms.

A gigantic beauty of a stallion, fresh and responsive to my caresses,
Head high in the forehead, wide between the ears,
Limbs glossy and supple, tail dusting the ground,
Eyes full of sparkling wickedness, ears finely cut, flexibly moving.

His nostrils dilate as my heels embrace him,
His well-built limbs tremble with pleasure as we race around and return.

I but use you a minute, then I resign you, stallion,
Why do I need your paces when I myself out-gallop them?
Even as I stand or sit passing faster than you.

33

Space and Time! now I see it is true, what I guess'd at,
What I guess'd when I loaf'd on the grass,
What I guess'd while I lay alone in my bed,
And again as I walk'd the beach under the paling stars of the morning.

My ties and ballasts leave me, my elbows rest in sea-gaps,
I skirt sierras, my palms cover continents,
I am afoot with my vision.

By the city's quadrangular houses--in log huts, camping with lumber-men,
Along the ruts of the turnpike, along the dry gulch and rivulet bed,
Weeding my onion-patch or hosing rows of carrots and parsnips,
crossing savannas, trailing in forests,
Prospecting, gold-digging, girdling the trees of a new purchase,
Scorch'd ankle-deep by the hot sand, hauling my boat down the
shallow river,
Where the panther walks to and fro on a limb overhead, where the
buck turns furiously at the hunter,
Where the rattlesnake suns his flabby length on a rock, where the
otter is feeding on fish,
Where the alligator in his tough pimples sleeps by the bayou,
Where the black bear is searching for roots or honey, where the
beaver pats the mud with his paddle-shaped tall;
Over the growing sugar, over the yellow-flower'd cotton plant, over
the rice in its low moist field,
Over the sharp-peak'd farm house, with its scallop'd scum and
slender shoots from the gutters,
Over the western persimmon, over the long-leav'd corn, over the
delicate blue-flower flax,
Over the white and brown buckwheat, a hummer and buzzer there with
the rest,
Over the dusky green of the rye as it ripples and shades in the breeze;
Scaling mountains, pulling myself cautiously up, holding on by low
scragged limbs,
Walking the path worn in the grass and beat through the leaves of the brush,
Where the quail is whistling betwixt the woods and the wheat-lot,
Where the bat flies in the Seventh-month eve, where the great
goldbug drops through the dark,
Where the brook puts out of the roots of the old tree and flows to
the meadow,
Where cattle stand and shake away flies with the tremulous
shuddering of their hides,
Where the cheese-cloth hangs in the kitchen, where andirons straddle
the hearth-slab, where cobwebs fall in festoons from the rafters;
Where trip-hammers crash, where the press is whirling its cylinders,
Wherever the human heart beats with terrible throes under its ribs,
Where the pear-shaped balloon is floating aloft, (floating in it
myself and looking composedly down,)
Where the life-car is drawn on the slip-noose, where the heat
hatches pale-green eggs in the dented sand,
Where the she-whale swims with her calf and never forsakes it,
Where the steam-ship trails hind-ways its long pennant of smoke,
Where the fin of the shark cuts like a black chip out of the water,
Where the half-burn'd brig is riding on unknown currents,
Where shells grow to her slimy deck, where the dead are corrupting below;
Where the dense-starr'd flag is borne at the head of the regiments,
Approaching Manhattan up by the long-stretching island,
Under Niagara, the cataract falling like a veil over my countenance,
Upon a door-step, upon the horse-block of hard wood outside,
Upon the race-course, or enjoying picnics or jigs or a good game of
base-ball,
At he-festivals, with blackguard gibes, ironical license,
bull-dances, drinking, laughter,
At the cider-mill tasting the sweets of the brown mash, sucking the
juice through a straw,
At apple-peelings wanting kisses for all the red fruit I find,
At musters, beach-parties, friendly bees, huskings, house-raisings;
Where the mocking-bird sounds his delicious gurgles, cackles,
screams, weeps,
Where the hay-rick stands in the barn-yard, where the dry-stalks are
scatter'd, where the brood-cow waits in the hovel,
Where the bull advances to do his masculine work, where the stud to
the mare, where the cock is treading the hen,
Where the heifers browse, where geese nip their food with short jerks,
Where sun-down shadows lengthen over the limitless and lonesome prairie,
Where herds of buffalo make a crawling spread of the square miles
far and near,
Where the humming-bird shimmers, where the neck of the long-lived
swan is curving and winding,
Where the laughing-gull scoots by the shore, where she laughs her
near-human laugh,
Where bee-hives range on a gray bench in the garden half hid by the
high weeds,
Where band-neck'd partridges roost in a ring on the ground with
their heads out,
Where burial coaches enter the arch'd gates of a cemetery,
Where winter wolves bark amid wastes of snow and icicled trees,
Where the yellow-crown'd heron comes to the edge of the marsh at
night and feeds upon small crabs,
Where the splash of swimmers and divers cools the warm noon,
Where the katy-did works her chromatic reed on the walnut-tree over
the well,
Through patches of citrons and cucumbers with silver-wired leaves,
Through the salt-lick or orange glade, or under conical firs,
Through the gymnasium, through the curtain'd saloon, through the
office or public hall;
Pleas'd with the native and pleas'd with the foreign, pleas'd with
the new and old,
Pleas'd with the homely woman as well as the handsome,
Pleas'd with the quakeress as she puts off her bonnet and talks melodiously,
Pleas'd with the tune of the choir of the whitewash'd church,
Pleas'd with the earnest words of the sweating Methodist preacher,
impress'd seriously at the camp-meeting;
Looking in at the shop-windows of Broadway the whole forenoon,
flatting the flesh of my nose on the thick plate glass,
Wandering the same afternoon with my face turn'd up to the clouds,
or down a lane or along the beach,
My right and left arms round the sides of two friends, and I in the middle;
Coming home with the silent and dark-cheek'd bush-boy, (behind me
he rides at the drape of the day,)
Far from the settlements studying the print of animals' feet, or the
moccasin print,
By the cot in the hospital reaching lemonade to a feverish patient,
Nigh the coffin'd corpse when all is still, examining with a candle;
Voyaging to every port to dicker and adventure,
Hurrying with the modern crowd as eager and fickle as any,
Hot toward one I hate, ready in my madness to knife him,
Solitary at midnight in my back yard, my thoughts gone from me a long while,
Walking the old hills of Judaea with the beautiful gentle God by my side,
Speeding through space, speeding through heaven and the stars,
Speeding amid the seven satellites and the broad ring, and the
diameter of eighty thousand miles,
Speeding with tail'd meteors, throwing fire-balls like the rest,
Carrying the crescent child that carries its own full mother in its belly,
Storming, enjoying, planning, loving, cautioning,
Backing and filling, appearing and disappearing,
I tread day and night such roads.

I visit the orchards of spheres and look at the product,
And look at quintillions ripen'd and look at quintillions green.

I fly those flights of a fluid and swallowing soul,
My course runs below the soundings of plummets.

I help myself to material and immaterial,
No guard can shut me off, no law prevent me.

I anchor my ship for a little while only,
My messengers continually cruise away or bring their returns to me.

I go hunting polar furs and the seal, leaping chasms with a
pike-pointed staff, clinging to topples of brittle and blue.

I ascend to the foretruck,
I take my place late at night in the crow's-nest,
We sail the arctic sea, it is plenty light enough,
Through the clear atmosphere I stretch around on the wonderful beauty,
The enormous masses of ice pass me and I pass them, the scenery is
plain in all directions,
The white-topt mountains show in the distance, I fling out my
fancies toward them,
We are approaching some great battle-field in which we are soon to
be engaged,
We pass the colossal outposts of the encampment, we pass with still
feet and caution,
Or we are entering by the suburbs some vast and ruin'd city,
The blocks and fallen architecture more than all the living cities
of the globe.

I am a free companion, I bivouac by invading watchfires,
I turn the bridgroom out of bed and stay with the bride myself,
I tighten her all night to my thighs and lips.

My voice is the wife's voice, the screech by the rail of the stairs,
They fetch my man's body up dripping and drown'd.

I understand the large hearts of heroes,
The courage of present times and all times,
How the skipper saw the crowded and rudderless wreck of the
steamship, and Death chasing it up and down the storm,
How he knuckled tight and gave not back an inch, and was faithful of
days and faithful of nights,
And chalk'd in large letters on a board, Be of good cheer, we will
not desert you;
How he follow'd with them and tack'd with them three days and
would not give it up,
How he saved the drifting company at last,
How the lank loose-gown'd women look'd when boated from the
side of their prepared graves,
How the silent old-faced infants and the lifted sick, and the
sharp-lipp'd unshaved men;
All this I swallow, it tastes good, I like it well, it becomes mine,
I am the man, I suffer'd, I was there.

The disdain and calmness of martyrs,
The mother of old, condemn'd for a witch, burnt with dry wood, her
children gazing on,
The hounded slave that flags in the race, leans by the fence,
blowing, cover'd with sweat,
The twinges that sting like needles his legs and neck, the murderous
buckshot and the bullets,
All these I feel or am.

I am the hounded slave, I wince at the bite of the dogs,
Hell and despair are upon me, crack and again crack the marksmen,
I clutch the rails of the fence, my gore dribs, thinn'd with the
ooze of my skin,
I fall on the weeds and stones,
The riders spur their unwilling horses, haul close,
Taunt my dizzy ears and beat me violently over the head with whip-stocks.

Agonies are one of my changes of garments,
I do not ask the wounded person how he feels, I myself become the
wounded person,
My hurts turn livid upon me as I lean on a cane and observe.

I am the mash'd fireman with breast-bone broken,
Tumbling walls buried me in their debris,
Heat and smoke I inspired, I heard the yelling shouts of my comrades,
I heard the distant click of their picks and shovels,
They have clear'd the beams away, they tenderly lift me forth.

I lie in the night air in my red shirt, the pervading hush is for my sake,
Painless after all I lie exhausted but not so unhappy,
White and beautiful are the faces around me, the heads are bared
of their fire-caps,
The kneeling crowd fades with the light of the torches.

Distant and dead resuscitate,
They show as the dial or move as the hands of me, I am the clock myself.

I am an old artillerist, I tell of my fort's bombardment,
I am there again.

Again the long roll of the drummers,
Again the attacking cannon, mortars,
Again to my listening ears the cannon responsive.

I take part, I see and hear the whole,
The cries, curses, roar, the plaudits for well-aim'd shots,
The ambulanza slowly passing trailing its red drip,
Workmen searching after damages, making indispensable repairs,
The fall of grenades through the rent roof, the fan-shaped explosion,
The whizz of limbs, heads, stone, wood, iron, high in the air.

Again gurgles the mouth of my dying general, he furiously waves
with his hand,
He gasps through the clot Mind not me--mind--the entrenchments.

34

Now I tell what I knew in Texas in my early youth,
(I tell not the fall of Alamo,
Not one escaped to tell the fall of Alamo,
The hundred and fifty are dumb yet at Alamo,)
'Tis the tale of the murder in cold blood of four hundred and twelve
young men.

Retreating they had form'd in a hollow square with their baggage for
breastworks,
Nine hundred lives out of the surrounding enemies, nine times their
number, was the price they took in advance,
Their colonel was wounded and their ammunition gone,
They treated for an honorable capitulation, receiv'd writing and
seal, gave up their arms and march'd back prisoners of war.

They were the glory of the race of rangers,
Matchless with horse, rifle, song, supper, courtship,
Large, turbulent, generous, handsome, proud, and affectionate,
Bearded, sunburnt, drest in the free costume of hunters,
Not a single one over thirty years of age.

The second First-day morning they were brought out in squads and
massacred, it was beautiful early summer,
The work commenced about five o'clock and was over by eight.

None obey'd the command to kneel,
Some made a mad and helpless rush, some stood stark and straight,
A few fell at once, shot in the temple or heart, the living and dead
lay together,
The maim'd and mangled dug in the dirt, the new-comers saw them there,
Some half-kill'd attempted to crawl away,
These were despatch'd with bayonets or batter'd with the blunts of muskets,
A youth not seventeen years old seiz'd his assassin till two more
came to release him,
The three were all torn and cover'd with the boy's blood.

At eleven o'clock began the burning of the bodies;
That is the tale of the murder of the four hundred and twelve young men.

35

Would you hear of an old-time sea-fight?
Would you learn who won by the light of the moon and stars?
List to the yarn, as my grandmother's father the sailor told it to me.

Our foe was no sulk in his ship I tell you, (said he,)
His was the surly English pluck, and there is no tougher or truer,
and never was, and never will be;
Along the lower'd eve he came horribly raking us.

We closed with him, the yards entangled, the cannon touch'd,
My captain lash'd fast with his own hands.

We had receiv'd some eighteen pound shots under the water,
On our lower-gun-deck two large pieces had burst at the first fire,
killing all around and blowing up overhead.

Fighting at sun-down, fighting at dark,
Ten o'clock at night, the full moon well up, our leaks on the gain,
and five feet of water reported,
The master-at-arms loosing the prisoners confined in the after-hold
to give them a chance for themselves.

The transit to and from the magazine is now stopt by the sentinels,
They see so many strange faces they do not know whom to trust.

Our frigate takes fire,
The other asks if we demand quarter?
If our colors are struck and the fighting done?

Now I laugh content, for I hear the voice of my little captain,
We have not struck, he composedly cries, we have just begun our part
of the fighting.

Only three guns are in use,
One is directed by the captain himself against the enemy's main-mast,
Two well serv'd with grape and canister silence his musketry and
clear his decks.

The tops alone second the fire of this little battery, especially
the main-top,
They hold out bravely during the whole of the action.

Not a moment's cease,
The leaks gain fast on the pumps, the fire eats toward the powder-magazine.

One of the pumps has been shot away, it is generally thought we are sinking.

Serene stands the little captain,
He is not hurried, his voice is neither high nor low,
His eyes give more light to us than our battle-lanterns.

Toward twelve there in the beams of the moon they surrender to us.

36

Stretch'd and still lies the midnight,
Two great hulls motionless on the breast of the darkness,
Our vessel riddled and slowly sinking, preparations to pass to the
one we have conquer'd,
The captain on the quarter-deck coldly giving his orders through a
countenance white as a sheet,
Near by the corpse of the child that serv'd in the cabin,
The dead face of an old salt with long white hair and carefully
curl'd whiskers,
The flames spite of all that can be done flickering aloft and below,
The husky voices of the two or three officers yet fit for duty,
Formless stacks of bodies and bodies by themselves, dabs of flesh
upon the masts and spars,
Cut of cordage, dangle of rigging, slight shock of the soothe of waves,
Black and impassive guns, litter of powder-parcels, strong scent,
A few large stars overhead, silent and mournful shining,
Delicate sniffs of sea-breeze, smells of sedgy grass and fields by
the shore, death-messages given in charge to survivors,
The hiss of the surgeon's knife, the gnawing teeth of his saw,
Wheeze, cluck, swash of falling blood, short wild scream, and long,
dull, tapering groan,
These so, these irretrievable.

37

You laggards there on guard! look to your arms!
In at the conquer'd doors they crowd! I am possess'd!
Embody all presences outlaw'd or suffering,
See myself in prison shaped like another man,
And feel the dull unintermitted pain.

For me the keepers of convicts shoulder their carbines and keep watch,
It is I let out in the morning and barr'd at night.

Not a mutineer walks handcuff'd to jail but I am handcuff'd to him
and walk by his side,
(I am less the jolly one there, and more the silent one with sweat
on my twitching lips.)

Not a youngster is taken for larceny but I go up too, and am tried
and sentenced.

Not a cholera patient lies at the last gasp but I also lie at the last gasp,
My face is ash-color'd, my sinews gnarl, away from me people retreat.

Askers embody themselves in me and I am embodied in them,
I project my hat, sit shame-faced, and beg.

38

Enough! enough! enough!
Somehow I have been stunn'd. Stand back!
Give me a little time beyond my cuff'd head, slumbers, dreams, gaping,
I discover myself on the verge of a usual mistake.

That I could forget the mockers and insults!
That I could forget the trickling tears and the blows of the
bludgeons and hammers!
That I could look with a separate look on my own crucifixion and
bloody crowning.

I remember now,
I resume the overstaid fraction,
The grave of rock multiplies what has been confided to it, or to any graves,
Corpses rise, gashes heal, fastenings roll from me.

I troop forth replenish'd with supreme power, one of an average
unending procession,
Inland and sea-coast we go, and pass all boundary lines,
Our swift ordinances on their way over the whole earth,
The blossoms we wear in our hats the growth of thousands of years.

Eleves, I salute you! come forward!
Continue your annotations, continue your questionings.

39

The friendly and flowing savage, who is he?
Is he waiting for civilization, or past it and mastering it?

Is he some Southwesterner rais'd out-doors? is he Kanadian?
Is he from the Mississippi country? Iowa, Oregon, California?
The mountains? prairie-life, bush-life? or sailor from the sea?

Wherever he goes men and women accept and desire him,
They desire he should like them, touch them, speak to them, stay with them.

Behavior lawless as snow-flakes, words simple as grass, uncomb'd
head, laughter, and naivete,
Slow-stepping feet, common features, common modes and emanations,
They descend in new forms from the tips of his fingers,
They are wafted with the odor of his body or breath, they fly out of
the glance of his eyes.

40

Flaunt of the sunshine I need not your bask--lie over!
You light surfaces on

1. Pay Attention.
2. Take Responsibility.
3. No whining.
4. Don't take any shit.
5. Choose with integrity, not convenience.
6. Don't quit.
7. Keep your agreements.
8. Keep your sense of humor.
9. Love one another.
10. Honor your connection to Source.

When is the time . . .

You ask. It is when . . .
You feel alone or scared
When you abandon
Your hopes, your dreams
Your love. It is when you
Do as has been done to you
When you are angry
Lashing out in rage, fear
When you are desperate
Alone, frightened, jaded
It is when you see no choices
When you feel constricted
It is when you are suffering
Tormented, plagued.
When you ask
It shall be given
When you ask
Your fears will be stilled
When you ask
Your sorrow will be wiped away
When you ask
Your joy will be magnified
When
Now
You need only ask
Who
You
How you ask
Believe

TS 6-14-06




_________________________________________

The Archer

Standing erect
I survey, center
I reach down,
Retrieve my bow.
I sight my target
Intuit its piercing.
Reaching back
I select an arrow.
I slide it across my bow
I raise to take aim
Flexing back to stillness
Precision, Power, Grace
All suspended
Holding quiver
Massive kinetics
Directed, focused, harnessed.
Until release
Breath, ease
In the moment
I let fly
Striking
True, pure.

TS 5/16/06

__________________________________

Dancing Spirits

Like the flicker of fire, dancing
Moving with you
Dancing in darkness
Illuminating all around

No lurking shadows
Can steal the light
Dancing in and around
Through and through

Bouncing about
Dancing in fire
Love and Lust
Burning bright

Sacred union
Penetrating dance
Surrounding
The night

Culminating now
Present about
Release how
Joy abound

-TS 3/27/06
_______________

The Balloon

Walking down to the market
A scent overcame my ponderings,
Like a fresh breeze, anew.

My thoughts scattered like pigeons
Leaving my body tied to the wind
Like a balloon bobbing from a child's wrist.

I am left only with myself.
No thoughts, just instant connection
To my surroundings. Warm scent, children laughing.

Yet, something in me will not move,
Though the trees dance about me
In a halo of leaves.

Inside, a cavernous stillness
Awaits a pindrop for eternity
Without fail, ever so, nothing.

From nothingness,
My life billows out of the interior hollow,
brightly-colored clouds of dreams.

TS and BT 3/8/06
________________________________

Chilly Sunset

Above the fog, ocean blanketed
Sun waning, night chill stirring
Warmth, clinging to you, to me
Brrrrrrr, no matter
Warmed inside, at ease with you.
Hmmm, a warm wet kiss, shiraz
Dash to the car, one last look
Sun setting, another beautiful good-day.

-TS 2/27/06
__________________________________________

Ode to Awakenings

Permeating rock, the Tao
Radiating from the sun, filling darkness
Consciousness, Abound!
Flying in a stillpoint, everywhere at once
The Way, flowing in between, inside, all around
All rooted deep within, grounded, unbound
Sacred heart bursting, bleeding, tears freely
Firmly planted, flying with grace
Walking step by step, one and all.
Free and stable, wind and earth
Fana annihilation, passing away
Crushing waves, rock gives way
Churning thundering song to the gulls
Still vastness, lifting tiny grains
The Way, as is, what was, what will be
Singular, the multitude
Always now, everywhere
No where, but here and now
Universal, and the individual
One, all, Single, alpha to omega
Oscillating like the frequency of unbearable vibration until silence, stillness
Broken again, and again, renewed
Be still, breathe deep, surrender to now
Providence cradles, imbues Dharma
Nowhere to go, nowhere to be
Just here, right now, free, unbowed, you, God.

TS - 2/17/06
_________________________________________
_________

Whispers on the Wind

Do you not know Me!?
I have whispered to you a million words
Not always in rhyme or riddle
I have shown you such beauty
Ringing from mountain rooftop to rooftop
Blowing on a summer breeze or
In the crisp air of a quiet snowy morn
Rising in a new day, a new dawn
Setting in a distant sunset, introducing
The night sky filled with stars and a harvest moon
But you do not see, you do not hear
It is your ears that do not hear
Mired in the noise of an unsettled mind
Or your eyes, glossed over by filters
Created by your life's tumbles and pain
Be still to listen, be quiet inside
Look beyond your eyes,
Outside your mind's trappings
I will be there, to share with
You, all the Gloria’s, beauty, and song
That life unfolds. Be there, quiet inside
I will be there, too, for you, with you
By you, of you, to love you
Always, like whispers on the wind

TS 1/9/06

___________________________________________________

Going home

When the wisps of the night wrap in tight
The sky is high and I am far from home
I think of a time past, warmer but oh so bitter sweet
A sun setting, showering Glorias vivid and bright.

Feeling that sunset, I felt great joy and sorrow
That danced so lightly and heavy in my heart.
Beating tenderly, like the adoring eyes
Of an infant child looking up to mother.

Beating gently, gingerly, tip toeing
Not wanting to disturb or unsettle
Or to ripple out its perpetual pangs.
Yet memories bright ease the pitter patter.

Bitter sweet. Sweet and fortunate,
To feel so deeply, to hunger so deeply.
To cry so sincerely, with love and thanks.
Today, the bitter is eclipsed by fondness.

Warm memories so tender, so delicate, so hardy
So boisterous, so spontaneous, so warm, so filled,
It is a far past dream realized momentarily
Forever blessing the soul and those around.

In that I recall, smiling of a special someone
Who made all the difference, opened doorways
To a whole new life, like a new sunrise,
That could only come after a closing sunset.

Yes, bitter sweet. I am thankful for a lifetime
For the vistas illuminated by that sun soul
Awakened from slumber, my soul
Arisen again out of that sunset, solely.

The wisps of the night, feeling tight
I close my eyes to feel that dream
For the moment, giving me respite
On this journey back home.

-TS 11/30/05
________

Endless Moments

Thinking of time shared, I gaze out on the horizon,
Beyond restraining circumstance, above the clouds.
Drawn by possibilities, born in perfection.
Moved as a moth to fire, to the light
A light so revealing, beckoning
To what I know not, but to what I feel
So strongly, deeply, with certainty.

Take my hand, feel with me endless moments.
For to turn away now, is to trample
Seedlings that may bloom a thousand bouquets.
In due time, truth be known,
With an open heart and a patient hand.
Until then, share with me a painting,
Wine laughter, and reflection,
Song, dreams, and play,
May I have this dance, beloved?

TS 12/1/02 On flight home from DC Thanksgiving
______________

Love is the Way

Judge not lest ye will be judged.
Bring forth compassion, acceptance, and understanding.
For you, we are more in need, than any other.
Love foremost above fear, ascending powerfully.
Love regenerates endlessly, waiting only for us to surrender.
Choice out of fear, brings only decay.
Whereas love - unshakable unwavering - soars.
Do you stand in fear, or love?
On the side of destruction or ascendance?
Choose, for the battle lines are drawn.
Know love subdues fear, and conquers all.
Stand with me my friends, for love is the way.

TS - 8/1/00
_________

Love Lost, Wholly Gained

Now I ride the wind alone, thinking of how we danced, how we sang, together. I rejoice in the memory of our running hand in hand, smiling in laughter. My heart is filled with joy of that oneness, the union of time and intention. You taught me greatness, of unspeakable quality, and dancing heart to heart. For you, my praise of thankfulness is deafening. Hear it in the trickle of the stream, the warmth of the sun, the touch of a warm breeze. Remember my thanks always and know you will always have a piece of my heart within you. I feel a hole in my heart where you once lived and breathed life into me. Yet this pain pales in the face of the happiness we shared. Thank you, my teacher, my lover, my mother, my child, for you blessed my life. Your blessings will always honor me. I move forward, dance alone, sing alone, celebrate alone, free with myself, remembering you.

- TS Spring 2000
___________________________________________________

Close your eyes and LOOK! Yes, there.
The sun is born again, brilliant, ascending anew.
Yes, like that, my heart rises with joy.
I am ALIVE.
Awakened from slumber, I stretch myself into new places.
We Soar and Sing.
Remembering the boundless, the seamless;
Everthing that is, I am
Remember!? As are YOU, my brothers and sisters.
Each step, catharsis, ecstasy in every moment.
My blood rises, rushes, emboldens my hands, the whole of my body,
As I reach for the sky, like a blossom
Amid a sea of beautiful blossoms.
In this moment, I am rooted in all, in awe
Grounded, I stride lightly, effortlessly.
Fears arise, mere illusions
Opening, I am free
Free to play, sing, run, to roar, to be.
My eyes closed, I see miles ago, time and time again away.
Sorrow, anger love, fun, joy, fear, memories, good and bad.
Tears wash my could, I laugh aloud
As the sun sets, the moon illuminates darkness
She is born again, watch over us
As we dream out loud
Listen and you will hear.

- TS Spring 2003.
___________________________________________________

Everything

Today, walking back from the store, I heard a little boy growling at some birds feeding off the sidewalk. A real tiger this one, roaring, scaring the unminding birds, quick to return to their feast. I laughed aloud, immediately taken to those moments, those feelings I remember as a small boy. My dad's nickname for me was Tommy the Tiger. Those moments, however remote in time, feel very present today. The warmth of color, love and laughter, mischief and play, the bigness of it all, yes totally accessible to me today. I was truly loved and held as a small boy. I had a second mother, a nanny, who called me tomate palado - peeled tomato, for my propensity to run around free and wild, in my natural state. How fortunate am I to have had such big love, then and now. It was truly everything, the whole shebang, and it was mine and I hers, one and the same. Today, as a man, I am that boy as the man I am today. Countless memories on top of these first few moments. Yet that early essence remains, under layers of who I have become since those days of bliss. I look back over my life, countless laughter, countless insight, countless moments of play and joy. And sadness too, as I have sought to regain that essence I had as a small boy. A beautiful little boy, full of vigor, love of life, joy, laughter, curiosity, play. I am that small boy, Tommy the Tiger, and that essence is there for me to call upon in any given moment. Now, I am Tom, Thomas, TS, Atomic, Mr. ________, Sir - a bad ass sob when I need to be, a man capable of just about anything he puts his mind to, powerful, loving, kind, courageous, tender, strong, joyful, melancholic, visionary, absent minded, profound, goofy, deep, far seeing, and on I could go. But really I am that small boy in a Man's body, in a Man's mind, in a Man's heart, in a Man's soul. One and the same with more height, more skill, more experience, and more testosterone, or maybe not. Tommy the Tiger smiling big, growling.

I am aware of everything in my life, sitting on top of the still point, the moment, as if it the head of a needle, ready to be thread and used up.

TS 11/25/05
_________

_________

It’s not my fault

It’s not my fault, and fuck you for thinking so
I didn't,
You don't see me, you see your own shit on your own eyes, not me.
Fuck that, I am not that, I am not what you are seeing, feeling.
You don't see me, you see your shit in your own eyes, your own feelings.
It’s not my fault, and it’s not my fault that your shit gets triggered.
Fuck that. It feels like the shit in yours eyes is shot unto me with a shotgun.
I am me, here, standing as me, right here, not the shit you see.
See ME, hear ME, not the shit you hear, feel and think.
Don't pigeon hole me, in your history, your stories of the world, your already always ways of listening and seeing your world.
I am me, free, me, free, not the shit you see.
Fuck that, and fuck that the shit colors your eyes so putridly.
It makes me stink in your eyes. It makes me smell in your eyes, it makes me revolt in your eyes. And that is so painful. So god damn painful.
And I, wanting to be free, cry, chained in a prison of fault that I am in, because I care about how you see me, and I chain myself.
Fuck that.
It’s not my fault. Love ME, see ME, not the shit in your eyes.

TS 11/22
___________________________________________________

Sunset

I stand on a cliff side, overlooking a valley.
I see the sun peering through the clouds, Glorias abound.
The clouds are several shades of orange, yellow.
Billowing and towering in the sky,
Cradling the sun.
The beauty is beyond words,
What I see is a symphony, without sound,
The entirety of it, penetrates my being to my core,
I remember, Yes, I remember
Who I am, what I am, where I am
A tear rolls down my face.
I see god.
I see me.
I see everything, without end, without beginning.
I am home.
I smile knowing the divine.

TS 11/20/05
__________________________________________

-In a moment-

A sweetness, feeding another
Touching with words
Hearing without words
Feeling without touch
Tasting the stillness and motion
Freedom in doing
Ease in being
Present in the pregnant moment
Free of armor, of defense
Open beyond closing
Vulnerable and absolutely held
Pulling the breast plate open,
With the strength of ten thousand men.
To share the heart, the pain, the love, the joy
To give and not receive
Like the flow of a cornucopia
Saying yes to mystery, the moment, the unfolding.
Pouring out the nectar of Love’s fruit,
Ever pouring forth from the sacred chalice.
Trusting through primordial fear, and life’s wounding
A softness seen, revered and tickled.
Rejuvenation from the Soul’s knowing.
Channeling truth from the core, furnace of alchemy.
Spoken with the sacred gentleness of butterfly kisses.
Reflection received most open heartedly,
Like the Moon’s light, the Sun reflected.
Surrendering to the moment’s passion or fury,
Love or pain, joy or sorrow.
The perfection of fully being with what is so,
Whether good or bad.
Fully being in the moment, open, a Yes!, accepting,
Without condition, loving fully, without exception.
Receiving openly, without filter,
without constraint, without control - surrendered.
Heart strings playing a soothing joyful melody,
That sings angelic praise of love’s offering.
In moments of Gloria, Sunset playing Heaven’s harkening symphony.
All reminding us of light’s power over darkness, Now.

-TS 11/13/05

_____________________________________________________

Sacred Sunrise

Out of slumber, my eyes open, alert.
Looking into darkness
From the churning thoughts inside,
A dream quickly forgotten.
The moment still, my mind races.
The clock strikes 5:27.
The moment, pregnant with possibility.
Light subtly emerging, outlining the vista.
From horizon, a new dawn,
Emerging slowly, darkness clinging,
To life, the light cometh,
To birth a new Sun, a new day.
I see the light, and it is beautiful.
A beautiful day, glory be the Sun.

- TS 10/05
___________________________________________________

Gloria of My Soul/s

Something that is in your heart of hearts,
Shoots from here to the depths of space,
From the beginning of time to its beginning again.
Present in the dew drops on a crisp Saturday morning.

Sharing your deepest and most fragile truth.
I share mine too, tenderly, curiously listening, in turn.
Inquiring about the meaning of life, together,
Like the blind, piecing together by touch.

Love knows no uncertainty
How great is love, and how little am I.
How expansive am I, how great am I.
To be in love, to be love.
. . .
I sit here appreciating with you.
An idea whose time has come.

- TS 9/05
___________________________________________________

-We Can't Hear God Singing-

We Can't Hear God Singing
Though we long to do
We can't see God painting
Though we long to see
We can't hear God speaking
Though we so long for it so
We can’t feel God being,
Though with us we so do.
We can’t experience God,
Unless we choose to.

- TS 10/05
_________________________________________

-We Can't Hear God Singing-

We Can't Hear God Singing
Though we long to do
We can't see God painting
Though we long to see
We can't hear God speaking
Though we so long for it so
We can’t feel God being,
Though with us we so do.
We can’t experience God,
Unless we choose to.

- TS 10/05

________________________________

YOU

You capture it all in your arms and let it fly again.
Profoundly - You share Your beauty, Your vision of love - intoxicatingly.
I am not just saying that 'cause . . .
I am sorry, you hurt so, and yet still you generate love.
Amazing. Grace. How sweet. The sound,
Of it, soothes the soul like heaven's harps, or Handel's Messiah.
Your gift, a cornucopia, a sacred chalice poring over, without end.
It is the Holy Grail, that all wish to drink from.
What if such were commonplace, what would the world be like?
It would be a paradise, a perfection, not sanitized,
But full of life, of death, of beauty, of sorrow, of joy.
My idea of heaven, My cup, poureth over -- drink of life, of the body, of the Soul.
To renew, to rejoice, to celebrate, to resurrect, to Love Again, and Again.

- TS 10/05

___________________________________________________

A pigeon shat on my head.
Pondering, the sky.
I laughed, knowing I'm lucky.

- TS 10-6-05
___________________________________________________

The Moth

Late, well after midnight
I sit in my bath, thinking away.
Thoughts churn, resolutions turned.
I look up surprised, to see a moth,
Landing on my finger
Wow, how rare.
What does she want?
I raise her closer, she fidgets
Antenna fluttering, scanning
Seeking, feeling, gauging
Wings spread, patterns so intricate
Pink and beige, hmmm beautiful
Delicate like a flower
She takes flight,
Metamorphosis, Transformation
Earth to Sky, Dark to Light
Out of darkness, she flies.
Wings fluttering, searching
Waking, seeking, being,
Out of darkness, to light. -TS 9/28/05
___________________________________________________

"If you are not for yourself, then who will be? If you
are not for others, then what are you? And if not now,
when?" Rabbi Hillel
___________________________________________________

The Torch

Has been lit,
I hold it humbly,
Not knowing fully,
What to do, or which way to go.
I flex, holding it,
Feeling, its heft, in atrophy.
Feeling its warmth, on my face.
Emboldened, spring sprouting.
Seeing clearly, I step ahead.
A thousand mile journey.
Feeling it awkwardly in my hand, new.
The warm fire burns through veil.
Illuminating the Way.
The path is rocky,
Bereft of light.
The darkness aches
In emptiness,
For this torch.
With each step, my foot sure,
Ahead, I am moved.
Opening, the light dances
Expanding, in reach.
Brightening, in resolution.
With each step, a new way
Each turn, a new view
Each climb, a new depth
I extend my torch to you
A gift of illumination. - TS 9/26/05
___________________________________________________


Thank you for seeing me, for truly seeing me
It is by far the greatest gift I have ever received
To be captured by the finest instrument known
To be comprehended, understood, with the flash of an electron microscope.
Caught in a frame, known to the minute detail.
What more can life ask.
To be adored, to be opened, to be sung, to be rejoiced, to be enjoyed, to be hurt, to be remembered, to be reborn, to love, to be loved,
To live again, through love, a love that if nurtured so infinite, all the suns of the universe would fade before this love would even flicker.
What more can a soul ask for, really,
There is no more than all that is. TS – Summer of '04
_______________________________________________________

Just, I heard thunder,
In the City, a rarity.
Special day, indeed. -TS
___________________________

-Eternity-
He who binds himself a joy
Does the winged life destroy.
But he who kisses the joy as it flies
Lives in eternity's sun rise.
-William Blake
___________________________________________________

-I celebrate myself and, in so doing, celebrate you -

I celebrate my strong spirit, my grace of love, my joy and sorrow.
I honor that which is common in me to all beings
I refresh that which suffers, in the light of what sings in me and you, and in all others.
I am proud of my truth, my pleasure, my pain, and I apologize for none of it, except the harm it may cause another.
I run forward with my truth, my purpose, my being, despite any fear, trusting each step of the way.
I am he that would, that would dance, that would imbibe of life's mysteries and light, that would sing and play, speak and dialect in truth, while the next day brood and swear, only to be tickled again and again.
And to those who would join me, I am thankful and most open hearted.
I quote for me and those who would so go; "Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I will meet you there," by Rumi, a brilliant hearted soul.
Mind if I ask of you to smile, to dance, to play, and set aside your fear? And in so doing, you invite me. I will join you.
You (and I) are held by the warm breath of the earth, the soothing wind of the skies, the protective hands of all living spirits, covered warmly by the leaves, fur, wool and hair of the plants and animals -- yes held safely up to the sky for the warmth of the sun, the freshness of the sea, the bounty of the Earth.
Trust the armies of love, for there is no failing in love, only falling into the outstretched hands of all that is, by way of trust, faith. And even trust sorrow, for it teaches the wonder of joy. Even trust Fear's doubt when healthy, a guide. But in excess, a disease squelching truth, movement, learning, and the spirit's cornucopia.
I celebrate myself, relishing the shooting star brightening for the night . . . and by so doing I celebrate you.

- T. S. 4/05

___________________________________________________________

A Ritual To Read To Each Other

If you don't know the kind of person I am
and I don't know the kind of person you are
a pattern that others made may prevail in the world
and following the wrong god home we may miss our star.

For there is many a small betrayal in the mind,
a shrug that lets the fragile sequence break
sending with shouts the horrible errors of childhood
storming out to play through the broken dyke.

And as elephants parade holding each elephant's tail,
but if one wanders the circus won't find the park,
I call it cruel and maybe the root of all cruelty
to know what occurs but not recognize the fact.

And so I appeal to a voice, to something shadowy,
a remote important region in all who talk:
though we could fool each other, we should consider--
lest the parade of our mutual life get lost in the dark.

For it is important that awake people be awake,
or a breaking line may discourage them back to sleep;
the signals we give--yes or no, or maybe--
should be clear: the darkness around us is deep.
-William Stafford

---
I read into it:

Speak what you see, with gentleness
Say your truth, without reservation
Hear truth, with compassion
Open your heart, with courage
Trust your heart, with a knowing faith
Give your heart, with joy
Listen for truth, by hearing it
Listen for yearning, by holding it
Listen for fear, by embracing it
Feel into energy, by being it
Receive energy, by giving it
Own your power, with light
Exercise your power, with responsibility
Give of yourself, with integrity

Lean into awakeness, as if carrying and protecting against gales of wind, the lighting candle, to the bonfire of loving.

-TS 9/05
_______________________________________________________

-I celebrate myself and, in so doing, celebrate you -

I celebrate my strong spirit, my grace of love, my joy and sorrow.
I honor that which is common in me to all beings
I refresh that which suffers, in the light of what sings in me and you, and in all others.
I am proud of my truth, my pleasure, my pain, and I apologize for none of it, except the harm it may cause another.
I run forward with my truth, my purpose, my being, despite any fear, trusting each step of the way.
I am he that would, that would dance, that would imbibe of life's mysteries and light, that would sing and play, speak and dialect in truth, while the next day brood and swear, only to be tickled again and again.
And to those who would join me, I am thankful and most open hearted.
I quote for me and those who would so go; "Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I will meet you there," by Rumi, a brilliant hearted soul.
Mind if I ask of you to smile, to dance, to play, and set aside your fear? And in so doing, you invite me. I will join you.
You (and I) are held by the warm breath of the earth, the soothing wind of the skies, the protective hands of all living spirits, covered warmly by the leaves, fur, wool and hair of the plants and animals -- yes held safely up to the sky for the warmth of the sun, the freshness of the sea, the bounty of the Earth.
Trust the armies of love, for there is no failing in love, only falling into the outstretched hands of all that is, by way of trust, faith. And even trust sorrow, for it teaches the wonder of joy. Even trust Fear's doubt when healthy, a guide. But in excess, a disease squelching truth, movement, learning, and the spirit's cornucopia.
I celebrate myself, relishing the shooting star brightening for the night . . . and by so doing I celebrate you.

- T. S. 4/05

Reality is the leading cause of stress amongst those in touch with it.
- Jane Wagner

"If you want to build a ship
don't herd people together to collect wood
and don't assign them tasks and work,
but rather teach them to long
for the endless immensity of the sea."
- Antoine-Marie-Roger de Saint-Exupery

"Real compassion kicks butt and takes names, and it is not pleasant on certain days. If you are not ready for this fire, then find a new-age, sweetness-and-light, soft-speaking, perpetually smiling teacher, and learn to relabel your ego with spiritual-sounding terms. But stay away from those who practice real compassion, because they will fry your ass, my friend."
-- Ken Wilber, “One Taste”, 2000

"Someday, emerging at last from the violent insight, let me sing out jubilation and praise to assenting angels. Let not even one of the clearly-struck hammers of my heart fail to sound because of a slack, a doubtful, or a broken string. Let my joyfully streaming face make me more radiant; let my hidden weeping arise and blossom." - Rilke (thanks Penny for that one - your journey is inspiring from a far away mind's eye.)

"It's not that I'm so smart, it's just that I stay with problems longer." - Albert Einstein

“Everyone of this flowers has a specific relationship to the insect that
pollinates it. There’s a certain Orchid looking exactly like a certain
insect. So the insect is drawn to this moth, its double, its soul mate,
and wants nothing more than to make love to it. After the insect flies
off, it spots another soul mate flower and makes love to it thus
pollinating it. And neither the flower nor the insect will ever understand
the significance of their love making. How can they know that because of
their little dance the world lives, but it does. By simply doing what they
are designed to do, something large and magnificent happens. In this sense
they show us how to live, how the only barometer you have is your heart,
now when you spot your flower, you can’t let anything get in your way.”
- John Laroche

"Our bittersweet sex life is a clear reflection of the push-me-pull-you drama between our deep desire to be open as love and our reflexive clench for safety and superficial-self esteem." - D. Deida

"Great sex is the place where many people taste bliss, to one degree or another. You can taste it any time-during meditation, dance, prayer, sports, picnics, childbirth, death-anytime you are willing to be totally present and relax all hold on yourself while surrendering open as unlimited feeling." --From "Finding God Through Sex," a book by David Deida

"As soon as the love relationship does not lead me to me, as soon as I in a love relationship do not lead another person to himself, this love, even if it seems to be the most secure and ecstatic attachment I have ever experienced, is not true love. For real love is dedicated to continual becoming." ~ Leo Buscaglia, 20th century Dr. of Love from Love

"True sexual and spiritual surrender is not about adapting yourself to what will appease your partner. Nor is it about surrendering to your own momentary emotional needs. True surrender is about relaxing through these secondary needs, both yours and your partner's, and magnifying your primary desire to give and receive unbounded love." --From "Finding God Through Sex," a book by David Deida

Freedom from the past, or anything else for that matter, always comes in the very instant you stop thinking about it.

Not that you needed to hear that...
-The Universe

"Any fool can criticize, condemn and complain and most fools do." ~ Benjamin Franklin (1706-1790)
American entrepreneur, statesman, scientist & philosopher

"I want to seize fate by the throat." ~ Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827) German composer, universally recognized as one of the greatest composers


"If you don’t risk anything, you risk even more." ~ Erica Jong (1942-) American feminist, writer

"Continuous effort - not strength or intelligence - is the key to unlocking our potential." ~ Winston Churchill

"Remembering that each of us will take our turns in darkness and in light, let us be light for one another when the darkness falls." - Unknown

"I find that it is not the circumstances in which we are placed, but the spirit in which we face them, that constitutes our comfort." - Elizabeth T. King

When you focus upon anything at all, it's like a call goes out to every corner of the Universe, summoning ideas, strength, courage, insight, resources, and whatever else is needed to complete the laser beam of your concentration. If it's an answer you need, it will be forthcoming. If it's a choice you have to make, your options are calculated and recalculated under each scenario. If circumstances need to be arranged then every soul on the planet is consulted. And if it's help you need... we're already there.
When you focus upon anything at all. Not bad, huh?
- The Universe

"Ordinary people, even weak people, can do extraordinary things through temporary courage generated by a situation. But the person of character does not need the situation to generate his courage. It is a part of his being and a standard approach to all life's challenges." ~ Michael Josephson. I really like this quote. Remninds me of doing the everyday things that need to be done, that matter over the long term. Like showing up, like being counted, like doing the right thing, not holding back, taking opportunities to express that thank you, that I love you, that sign of appreciation. -TS

"The energy of reluctance has no place in the exercise of choice, when the optimum result is to be forthcoming. For, the vibration of hesitancy, in essence, dulls the vibrancy possible in any choice. For the highest possible outcome in any potential life experience, it is necessary for you to be fully present. That means putting the full throttle of your energetic intent behind where you stand, in any given moment, on any direction or on any issue. Halfway does not count. Not in the way you would wish it to. And in looking back upon your own approach to certain avenues that did not work out in the way you may have liked, you were not truly present. Were you fully behind any given direction, it becomes an avenue of choice, by definition, and yields a result that would be of value to you. It cannot be otherwise.
Once you begin to grasp the power inherent in this approach to all choice, you initiate a true understanding of the potential in the options that present themselves to you. And you recognize the treasure that awaits you in experiences you may once have never considered, for any number of reasons. The so-called "reasons" upon which you base your life decisions are no more than rationalizations of settling for less than the highest reward, in the ways that you would most value. For, "reasons" imply hesitation and the weighing of merit of one direction over the other.
Once a choice is made, the "reason" is irrelevant if the experience is to yield the optimum result. Make the choice, and be that choice energetically -- and watch the caliber of your experiences respond accordingly. Choose to be present energetically in all that you do. For you are present energetically, whether you wish to be or not. Your experience of life is simply a reflection of your awareness of that fact." -Rasha, Oneness

"Wake up! If you knew for certain you had a terminal illness--if you had little time left to live--you would waste precious little of it! Well, I'm telling you...you do have a terminal illness: It's called birth. You don't have more than a few years left. No one does! So be happy now, without reason--or you will never be at all." ~ Dan Millman, from The Way of the Peaceful Warrior

THE FOURTEEN PRECEPTS
OF ENGAGED BUDDHISM

Thich Nhat Hanh (From the book "Interbeing")

1. Do not be idolatrous about or bound to any doctrine, theory, or ideology, even Buddhist ones. Buddhist systems of thought are guiding means; they are not absolute truth.

2. Do not think the knowledge you presently possess is changeless, absolute truth. Avoid being narrow minded and bound to present views. Learn and practice nonattachment from views in order to be open to receive others' viewpoints. Truth is found in life and not merely in conceptual knowledge. Be ready to learn throughout your entire life and to observe reality in yourself and in the world at all times.

3. Do not force others, including children, by any means whatsoever, to adopt your views, whether by authority, threat, money, propaganda, or even education. However, through compassionate dialogue, help others renounce fanaticism and narrow-mindedness.

4. Do not avoid suffering or close your eyes before suffering. Do not lose awareness of the existence of suffering in the life of the world. Find ways to be with those who are suffering, including personal contact, visits, images and sounds. By such means, awaken yourself and others to the reality of suffering in the world.

5. Do not accumulate wealth while millions are hungry. Do not take as the aim of your life fame, profit, wealth, or sensual pleasure. Live simply and share time, energy, and material resources with those who are in need.

6. Do not maintain anger or hatred. Learn to penetrate and transform them when they are still seeds in your consciousness. As soon as they arise, turn your attention to your breath in order to see and understand the nature of your hatred.

7. Do not lose yourself in dispersion and in your surroundings. Practice mindful breathing to come back to what is happening in the present moment. Be in touch with what is wondrous, refreshing, and healing both inside and around you. Plant seeds of joy, peace, and understanding in yourself in order to facilitate the work of transformation in the depths of your consciousness.

8. Do not utter words that can create discord and cause the community to break. Make every effort to reconcile and resolve all conflicts, however small.

9. Do not say untruthful things for the sake of personal interest or to impress people. Do not utter words that cause division and hatred. Do not spread news that you do not know to be certain. Do not criticize or condemn things of which you are not sure. Always speak truthfully and constructively. Have the courage to speak out about situations of injustice, even when doing so may threaten your own safety.

10. Do not use the Buddhist community for personal gain or profit, or transform your community into a political party. A religious community, however, should take a clear stand against oppression and injustice and should strive to change the situation without engaging in partisan conflicts.

11. Do not live with a vocation that is harmful to humans and nature. Do not invest in companies that deprive others of their chance to live.
Select a vocation that helps realise your ideal of compassion.

12. Do not kill. Do not let others kill. Find whatever means possible to protect life and prevent war.

13. Possess nothing that should belong to others. Respect the property of others, but prevent others from profiting from human suffering or the suffering of other species on Earth.

14. Do not mistreat your body. Learn to handle it with respect. Do not look on your body as only an instrument. Preserve vital energies (sexual, breath, spirit) for the realisation of the Way. (For brothers and sisters who are not monks and nuns:) Sexual expression should not take place without love and commitment. In sexual relations, be aware of future suffering that may be caused. To preserve the happiness of others, respect the rights and commitments of others. Be fully aware of the responsibility of bringing new lives into the world. Meditate on the world into which you are bringing new beings.

-The Invitation, Written May 1994, by Oriah Mountain Dreamer. Native American Elder

• It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living.
• I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare of meeting your heart’s longing.
• It doesn’t interest me how old you are.
• I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dreams, for the adventure of being alive.
• It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon.
• I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain!
• I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fake it or fix it.
• I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, or to remember the limitations of being human.
• It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true.
• I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself, if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul.
• I want to know if you can be faithful and therefore trustworthy.
• I want to know if you can see beauty, even when it is not pretty every day, and if you can source your life from God’s presence.
• I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the moon, “YES!”
• It doesn’t interest me to know where you live and how much money you have.
• I want to know if you can get up after a night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done for the children.
• It doesn’t interest me to know who you are, how you came to be here.
• I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.
• It doesn’t interest me where and what and with whom you have studied.
• I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.
• I want to know if you can be alone with yourself, and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

Glory in the Highest

from the book PRONOIA Is the Antidote for Paranoia: How the Whole World Is
Conspiring to Shower You with Blessings

*
Thousands of things go right for you every day, beginning the moment you wake up. Through some magic you don't fully understand, you're still breathing and your heart is beating, even though you've been unconscious for many hours. The air is a mix of gases that's just right for your body's needs, as it was before you fell asleep.

You can see! Light of many colors floods into your eyes, registered by nerves that took God or evolution or some process millions of years to perfect. The interesting gift of these vivid hues comes to you courtesy of an unimaginably immense globe of fire, the sun, which continually detonates
nuclear reactions in order to convert its body into light and heat and energy for your personal use.

Did you know that the sun is located at the precise distance from you to be of perfect service? If it were any closer, you'd fry, and if it were any further away, you'd freeze. Here's another one of the sun's benedictions: It appears to rise over the eastern horizon right on schedule every day, as it has since long before you were born.

Do you remember when you were born, by the way? It was a difficult miracle that involved many people who worked hard on your behalf. No less miraculous is the fact that you have continued to grow since then, with millions of new cells being born inside you to replace the old ones that die. All of this
happens whether or not you ever think about it.

On this day, like almost every other, you have awoken inside a temperature-controlled shelter. You have a home! Your bed and pillow are soft and you're covered by comfortable blankets. The electricity is turned on, as usual. Somehow, in ways you're barely aware of, a massive power plant at an unknown distance from your home is transforming fuel into currents of electricity that reach you through mostly hidden conduits in the exact amounts you need, and all you have to do to control the flow is flick small switches with your fingers.

You can walk! Your legs work wonderfully well. Your heart circulates your blood all the way down to replenish the energy of the muscles in your feet and calves and thighs, and when the blood is depleted it finds its way back to your heart to be refreshed. This blessing recurs over and over again without stopping every hour of your life.

Your home is perhaps not a million-dollar palace, but it's sturdy and gigantic compared to the typical domicile in every culture that has preceded you. The floors aren't crumbling, and the walls and ceilings are holding up well, too. Doors open and close without trouble, and so do the windows. What
skillful geniuses built this sanctuary for you? How and where did they learn their craft?

In your bathroom, the toilet is functioning perfectly, as are several other convenient devices. You have at your disposal soaps, creams, razors, clippers, tooth-cleaning accessories: a host of products that enhance your hygiene and appearance. You trust that unidentified scientists somewhere tested them to be sure they're safe for you to use.

Amazingly, the water you need so much of comes out of your faucets in an even flow, with the volume you want, and either cold or hot as you desire. It's pure and clean; you're confident no parasites are lurking in it. There is someone somewhere making sure these boons will continue to arrive for you without interruption for as long as you require them.

Look at your hands. They're astounding creations that allow you to carry out hundreds of tasks with great force and intricate grace. They relish the pleasure and privilege of touching thousands of different textures, and they're beautiful.

In your closet are many clothes you like to wear. Who gathered the materials to make the fabrics they're made of? Who imbued them with colors, and how did they do it? Who sewed them for you?

In your kitchen, appetizing food in secure packaging is waiting for you. Many people you've never met worked hard to grow it, process it, and get it to the store where you bought it. The bounty of tasty nourishment you get to choose from is unprecedented in the history of the world.

Your many appliances are working flawlessly. Despite the fact that they feed on electricity, which could kill you instantly if you touched it directly, you feel no fear that you're in danger. Why? Your faith in the people who invented, designed, and produced these machines is impressive.

It's as if there's a benevolent conspiracy of unknown people that is tirelessly creating hundreds of useful things you like and need.

There's more. Gravity is working exactly the way it always has, neither pulling on you with too much or too little force. How did that marvel ever come to be? By some prodigious, long-running accident? It doesn't really matter, since it will continue to function with astounding efficiency whether or not you understand it.

Meanwhile, a trillion other elements of nature's miraculous design are expressing themselves perfectly. Plants are growing, rivers are flowing, clouds are drifting, winds are blowing, animals are reproducing. The weather is an interesting blend of elements you've never before experienced in quite this combination. Though you may take it for granted, you relish the ever-shifting sensations of light and temperature as they interact with your body.

There's more. You can smell odors and hear sounds and taste tastes, many of which are quite pleasing. You can think! You're in possession of the extraordinary gift of self-awareness. You can feel feelings! Do you realize how improbably stupendous it is for you to have been blessed with that mysterious capacity? And get this: You can visualize an inexhaustible array of images, some of which represent things that don't actually exist. How did you acquire this magical talent?

By some improbable series of coincidences or long-term divine plan, language has come into existence. Millions of people have collaborated for many centuries to cultivate a system for communication that you understand well.
Speaking and reading give you great pleasure and a tremendous sense of power.

Do you want to go someplace that's at a distance? You have a number of choices about what machines to use in order to get there. Whatever you decide-car, plane, bus, train, subway, ship, helicopter, or bike-you have confidence that it will work efficiently. Multitudes of people who are now dead devoted themselves to perfecting these modes of travel. Multitudes who are still alive devote themselves to ensuring that these benefits keep serving you.

Maybe you're one of the hundreds of millions of people in the world who has the extraordinary privilege of owning a car. It's a brilliant invention made by highly competent workers. Other skilled laborers put in long hours to extract oil from the ground or sea and turn it into fuel so you can use your
car conveniently. The roads are drivable. Who paved them for you? The bridges you cross are potent feats of engineering. Do you realize how hard it was to fabricate them from scratch?

You're aware that in the future shrinking oil reserves and global warming may impose limitations on your ability to use cars and planes and other machines to travel. But you also know that many smart and idealistic people are diligently striving to develop alternative fuels and protect the
environment. And compared to how slow societies have been to understand their macrocosmic problems in the past, your culture is moving with unprecedented speed to recognize and respond to the crises spawned by its technologies.

As you travel, you might listen to music. Maybe you've got an MP3 player, a fantastic invention that has dramatically enhanced your ability to hear a stunning variety of engaging sounds at a low cost. Or maybe you have a radio. Through a process you can't fathom, music and voices that originate
at a distance from you have been converted into invisible waves that bounce off the ionosphere and down into your little machine, where they are transformed back into music and voices for you to enjoy.

Let's say it's 9:30 a.m. You've been awake for two hours, and a hundred things have already gone right for you. If three of those hundred things had not gone right-your toaster was broken, the hot water wasn't hot enough, there was a stain on the pants you wanted to wear-you might feel that today the universe is against you, that your luck is bad, that nothing's going right. And yet the fact is that the vast majority of everything is working with breathtaking efficiency and consistency. You would clearly be deluded to imagine that life is primarily an ordeal.

Come to my house late at night - by Hafiz

Do not be shy.
[I] will be barefoot and dancing

I will be
In such a grand and generous mood!

Come to my door at any hour,
Even if your eyes
Are frightened by my light.
My heart and arms are open
And need no rest -
They will always welcome you.

Come in my dear,
From the harsh world
That has rained elements of stone
Upon your tender face.

Every soul
Should receive a toast from us
For bravery!

Bring all the bottles of wine you own
To this divine table - the earth
We share.

If your cellar is empty,
This whole Universe
Could drink forever
From mine!

Let's dine tonite with exquisite music.
I might even hire angels
To play - just for you.

Look!
Hidden beneath your feet
Is a Luminous Stage
Where we are meant to rehearse
Our Eternal Dance!

And what price is the price
of my Divine Instruction?
What could I ask of you?

All I could ever want
Is that
You have the priceless company
of Someone
Who can Kiss God,

That you have the priceless gift
Of becoming a servant to the Friend!

Come to my window, dear world -
Why ever be shy?

Look inside my playful Verse,
For Hafiz is Barefoot and Dancing
And in such a Grand and Generous -
In such a Fantastic Mood.

Hafiz