In a sea of information we swim,
but have trouble finding a drink to satisfy our thirst.
The future is awful grim They say,
the bubble must soon burst.

In a room, here alone, the world disappears,
learning to be comfortable with quiet,
allowing the subtle sounds to find my ears,
instead of assaulting them with the riot

of noise, noise, noise for the sake of distraction.
Of things, thoughts, reactions, the need for control.
It’s only through letting go that we grasp the truth,
breathe out, breathe in, do it again, be whole.

Remember what you forgot, how rain sounds
falling on plastic jugs, or how each drop makes
a tiny splash as they pelt the porch,
forget the fights, who’s right, or wrong,

remember the song, the one you heard
so long ago, the words of which you cannot lose,
it’s just you’ve temporarily misplaced them
amidst all your grown up cares and concerns.

The meaning of life, is to be alive, nothing less,
nothing more, all the striving to become
is pointless, you already are, accept
what is, and freedom will blossom

like roses, after rain, their beauty made more
beautiful by their thorns, look past
what you’ve been taught, to see yourself
in all things, and all things in yourself.

We cannot save this world, for it does not
need saving. It is, and that is enough.
Can’t you see the majesty of existence,
rough edges, cracks, and imperfection
do not need correction, they need inspection.
See that they are good, that they hold such truth
within them, if only we will stop trying to see
the world in black and white, and enjoy
the rainbow, the amazing spectrum of color
that our eyes delight in seeing, a reflection
of the diversity in our universe, the unseen
treasures waiting just beneath your nose,
like raindrops making music with garbage,
or the crimson petals of a fresh bloomed rose.


a stream of consciousness

I’m tired of trying to be perfect. One day in the future I’ll feed worms with the decaying organic matter that once was my body. And all I do here cannot change that. I don’t mean to sound depressing, but it’s true. Just learn to be. Be. I am here. Drain the marrow, smell the proverbial roses. Get stuck by the thorns, and bleed. Bleed that crimson fluid that feeds life to my cells. Pack shotgun shells with laughter, and shoot into the crowd. Laugh out loud. Dance sometime, and worry not how foolish it may look. Finish your book, and maybe don’t even let someone read it.But finish it so that you can say you did. And then maybe start another story, and another. Why can’t I write a story. I don’t care if anyone ever buys it. I don’t care if it is garbage. Write 500 and I’m sure that in that pile of shitponds, there will be one that stinks slightly less than the rest, at least one. But that’s just it you see, the point is not in the ending…no one really likes endings. The goal is not the goal, but it’s only after we reach it that we realize, we never wanted to reach it. We had fun working toward it, that’s where the magic is. In pursuing. The trick is to remain in a constant state of departure, while always arriving. The illusion tells us to look ahead to a moment we must get to…but that moment can only be now and we are there. When we get there it’s still now, and so we must stay vigilant against the illusion. The illusion robs us of our life, by telling us that we must get these things sorted first, then in some distant future when all is well we can sigh a deep sigh of relief and then, and only then can our life begin. But don’t you see, it’s a lie. Until you die, you will have problems, the only way to avoid them is to shut off completely and then you see that becomes a problem. But freedom lies in letting go. Letting go of needing the answers, letting go of needing to do the “right” thing, letting go of the pressure to be perfect often only coming from your own mind. You can do this. You can break free from the trap your mind wants to lure you into again and again. That vicious circle can stop, but you have to be willing to give up the fight. Only then can you be the victor, by losing. Losing the things that hold you down, that keep you unsatisfied, make you feel like you can’t have peace. Who says you can’t have peace, because you owe some money, some worthless rectangles of paper, because if you don’t do things just so, something bad might happen. Whoopity doo! Things will never cease to happen, they cannot. The nature of reality is just that, an ever present moment, that simultaneously holds all other moments, and things just keep on happening, all these wondrous and glorious things, things upon things upon things. And there are all these little small perspectives, these individuals looking out on them as if through a tiny gap in an enormous brick wall. They see a tiny little sliver of the picture and claim to know what it is they are seeing. But how arrogant when they have such a limited field of view. Break through that wall. Like the kid in your book. Self-Acceptance is the key that you came up with, they key symbolized by dynamite that he used to destroy the brick wall of worry, fear, and doubt. I think we can get rid of the self, thanks alan watts. The self isn’t necessary. The key is simply acceptance. Accept what is. Accept the bad, the good, the indifferent. Accept it all because the only other option is to spend every waking moment fighting tooth and nail with a reality that won’t give an inch to your whims or desires. Not because the world itself is fighting against you, but because you’ll discover all that resistance is a product of your own mind. You are in your own way, because you’ve forgotten that life is simply to be lived.