oh my sacred dream time

“Enlightenment is not seeing everything through the distortion called egoic state of consciousness. That’s why it’s called natural state;  It’s perception without a lens. Ultimately that’s what enlightenment is: Perception without distortion.” Adyashanti

The dream state is a lustrous gem

here’s where all of the distortions are revealed

In perfect living color, form and sound

Because in TIME

I only see through the lens of my perceptions (distortions)

But when sleep time comes, the TIME perceptions dissolve

Now I can see through it all

My dreams show me what I know in a way I can’t really comprehend
It would be too jarring for my indoctrinated left-sided brain
So my dream time gives me truths incognito

I am learning to unlock the symbolic coding

and it’s beginning to shine crystal clear

OH MY SACRED DREAM TIME

 

 

 

Seed inside a circle

Had a dream last night.

RECOLLECTION ….. an image of a seed inside a circle

FEELING …… amazement at how it could come to BE without having been in the earth’s “ground”

Which leads to deep contemplation today on so many levels……

Like, Are we asking the real questions?

Like What is TIME?

Just love this Watts Wave from Akira. I think it says it all ……

here are some highlights below, but so worth listening in entirety:

Why are you talking?

For the same reason the birds sing and the same reason that the stars shine! I DIG IT!!

I DIG IT!!   I DIG IT!!! I DIG IT!!!

Why do you dig it?

Well, I could go on and on but …..

explaining things by the past is really a refusal to explain them at all!

All you’re doing is postponing it again and again

it explains NOTHING

What does explain things is the present.

WHY DO YOU DO IT NOW?

It all starts RIGHT NOW.

Just as the sound comes out of silence, allness comes out of nothing.

All of LIFE suddenly emerges out of space BANG right NOW!

What are you doing NOW?

Freedom from being a puppet of the past

That is liberation

from the ridiculous situation of being a dog wagged by its tail.

TIME      TIME     TIME     TIME     TIME    TIME 

 

A flower story

There were so many flowers.

They were like an infinite carpet of color.

In the Age of All Colors, the flowers were every color of the rainbow. Not only the full spectrum of rainbow colors, but also every imaginable shade of each color! Some flowers were multi-colored with spots, some with straight lines, some with curved lines, some with abstract shapes, some with geometric shapes.

The rainbow-colored flowers were very wise in this ancient Age of All Colors. Their perception was as vast as the scope of their palates, and they knew that reality was as unlimited as their potential to be beautifully colored.
Because of their all-encompassing vastness and infinite potential, they were fully aware that ALL possibilities existed. Even the possibility of limiting their own perspectives and narrowing their own perception. They knew anything was possible, even forgetting the Truth.

In time, the Age of Forgetfulness began to flourish, and the flowers began to divide into two different groups. What distinguished one group from the other was their vision (perspective, point of view).

One group evolved as the YELLOW flowers. It came to be that they began to look similar (yellow-colored) because they all saw through a lens that filtered out the ability to see all of the other colors of the rainbow.

The YELLOWS believed that everything True was yellow, and they saw the world of yellow as the only right and intelligent way to Be.

The other group of flowers similarly began to look and think alike – MAROON was their color, and they saw everything through a maroon-colored lens. Any other point of view/perspective that was not MAROON was shunned as ridiculous and absurd.

The MAROONS fully believed that the YELLOWS were wrong in their perception of what Life should Be.

MAROONS could not “See” YELLOWS,
And YELLOWS could not “See” MAROONS.

Both groups truly believed that ONLY their beliefs were “right” and that the other group was “wrong”.

The individual flowers of each group began to think so much alike that one flower could no longer think for Itself. They became so comfortable blending into the YELLOWS or MAROONS that they were indistinguishable from each other – blending into a sea of yellow color or a sea of maroon color, being ignorant of the possibility of looking through another colored lens. It was an innocent misunderstanding.

On a remote island, there still existed some of the ancient rainbow-colored flowers.

One day some of the rainbow-colored flowers had an idea that they would attempt to mingle and socialize with the YELLOWS and the MAROONS, allowing their seeds to be carried into those communities.

Both the YELLOWS and the MAROONS thought that these rainbow-colored flowers must be insane!

They appeared to be spiraling out of control with their absurdity of multi-colored-ness!

The YELLOWS and the MAROONS rejected and feared the rainbow-colored flowers.

But the rainbow-colored flowers did not force their seeds to be accepted, and trusted that whatever seed might succeed in growing could potentially inspire even one of the YELLOWS or MAROONS to remember how to see outside their limited colored view.

The rainbow-colored flowers understood the challenges the YELLOWS and the MAROONS were facing. Neither group could remember that opinions can’t be TRUTH and that their PERCEPTIONS were only personal distortions of the TRUTH.

The rainbow-colored flowers knew that the YELLOWS and MAROONS had to find their own way through the myriad of their own beliefs until they re-cognized their own color-blindness.

If only the YELLOWS could see that their view was just as limited as the MAROONS, and vise verse! That their ideas were just two sides of the same flower!

If only they could remember that in the Circle of the Flowers their opinions are simultaneously right AND wrong, and neither right OR wrong and see how silly they appear from the all-encompassing rainbow flowers’ aerial view.

But until the YELLOWS and MAROONS came to this understanding, one individual flower at a time, each in their own time, the rainbow-colored flowers remained neutrally tolerant, patient, compassionate, loving and wise.

This rainbow-colored neutrality was NOT passive, it was full of the innate power of wisdom> they took action by allowing their seeds to drop without manipulating where the seeds would fall or attaching to the outcome.

In their infinite wisdom, rainbow-colored flowers knew that TIME was only a creation of the color-blind flowers in order to work through their evolution of reconnecting with the rainbow of colors.

THE END

the joy in your heart

The Waters of March
(aka Aguas de Marco)
by Antonio Carlos Jobim

A stick, a stone, it’s the end of the road,
It’s the rest of the stump, it’s a little alone,
It’s a sliver of glass, it is life, it’s the sun,
It is night, it is death, it’s a trap, it’s a gun.
The oak when it blooms, a fox in the brush,
The knot in the wood, the song of the thrush.
The wood of the wind, a cliff, a fall,
A scratch, a lump, it is nothing at all.
It’s the wind blowing free, it’s the end of a slope,
It’s a beam, it’s a void, it’s a hunch, it’s a hope.
And the riverbank talks of the water of march.
It’s the end of the strain, it’s the joy in your heart.

The foot, the ground, the flesh, the bone,
The beat of the road, a slingshot stone.
A fish, a flash, a silvery glow,
A fight, a bet, the range of the bow.
The bed of the well, the end of the line,
The dismay in the face, it’s a loss, it’s a find.
A spear, a spike, a point, a nail,
A drip, a drop, the end of the tale.
A truckload of bricks in the soft morning light,
The shot of a gun, in the dead of the night.
A mile, a must, a thrust, a bump.
It’s a girl, it’s a rhyme, it’s the cold, it’s the mumps,
The plan of the house, the body in bed,
The car that got stuck, it’s the mud, it’s the mud.
A float, a drift, a flight, a wing,
A hawk, a quail, the promise of spring.
And the riverbanks talks of the waters of march.
It’s the promise of life, it’s the joy in your heart.

A snake, a stick, it is John, it is Joe,
It’s a thorn in your hand, and a cut on your toe.
A point, a grain, a bee, a bite,
A blink, a buzzard, the sudden stroke of night.
A pin, a needle, a sting, a pain,
A snail, a riddle, a weep, a stain.
A pass in the mountains, a horse, a mule,
In the distance the shelves rode three shadows of blue.
And the riverbank talks of the promise of life
In your heart, in your heart.

A stick, a stone, the end of the load,
The rest of the stump, a lonesome road.
A sliver of glass, a life, the sun,
A night, a death, the end of the run.
And the riverbank talks of the waters of march
It’s the end of all strain,
It’s the joy in your heart……………………

Time for me to bitch and moan about daylight savings again…..

Control freaks that we are ……. trying to manipulate time to our advantage.

I’m WIDE AWAKE when the clock says it’s time to sleep.

I’m DRAGGING when the alarm goes off in the morning.

WHY do we still do this??????  

Well, regardless of my time-change frustration,

absolutely NOTHING could change the NOW moments of BEAUTY on a day like today,

(MY POEM’S RHTHYM WAS INSPIRED BY THE WATERS OF MARCH)

The blazing sun……. the family fun …….. the walks outside ……. the trees and the sky

The smiles and shares …….. the food and talk of bears …….. the word games in the car… and being silly as we are …….

and the grandson’s joy of winning monopoly …….. and knowing time is as free …..

As THE JOY IN YOUR HEART.