Self-realization through artistic creation
Beings
the Forgotten One
There once was an angel
who walked upon the moon,
when east was east
and west was west,
looking and looking
for the season of soon
through parks of dark
and gardens overgrown.
Looking and looking for
what she had always known
she would one day find
in the eyes of the mind
and the hearts of the wind -
the unsaddening words of the Forgotten One,
“Come in. Come in.
I have been waiting and waiting
and wanting and wanting
always and always
only you.”
“You can not bring
the thousand things,
the dust of the earth
and the rags of kings,
the broken songs
that no one sings of
the hundred gods and
their wanderings.
You can not bring
a shred of these
nor anything but the only thing
that breathes and breathes
through the seething leaves
that never rest
in the void and voyage of the branching trees
moving east and west
under the kind and blinded sun.
‘You are the one and only one in everyone.”
“Come out. Come out
wherever you are,
out of the hypnotic unceasing din
circling through earth’s first antediluvian scar
on your journeying skin
from a demented dimension
that selects regrets and forgets
and forgets
that, taken to the nth degree,
anything less
than love is a form
of insanity.”
juniper, manzanita, quartz, resin
35 " high
Primordials
The Bliss of This
Isn’t it odd?
Our fears are a form of competition with God.
Are you sure you want
to be in a race
through aimless time
and empty space
that no one has ever won?
If that is so, then run.
But you did not come here for that.
Some search for ages,
listening to sages
offering the secrets
of the fountains of youth,
only to find the shell of their mind
was not the kind
easily opened to a larger truth,
turning their search
instead into a church
that only doubles their struggles
and on some days and Sundays
diverts and converts
into a race in the pews
for the latest news
of the holy ghost singing
rhythm and blues.
But you did not come here for that format
or any other that fails to uncover
the value of this -
the true miracle is just to witness
the growing awareness
of the heart drum beating a slow unfoldment of one‘s own consciousness
in a rain of rainbows
filled with countless colors
as we discover with baited breath
that, yes, we came to rest
in the presence of that,
the bliss of the is-ness
in the joy of the this-ness
of just this this,
the power of the now
through all now allowed
through the glory of the call
of all that just Is.
manzanita, juniper, selenite, resin
Beings
On the Boundary Between Fear and Love
A rustle in the leaves,
a song in the throats of trees
unhides our truer nature,
if we can only hear it.
If we forget the ‘real’,
and it makes its appeal
to us and through us in what we feel,
it might appear
as a fear until we clean and clear it.
The only difference between
‘a rustle in the leaves’
and ‘a song in the throats of trees’
is the addition of a little heart-carved imagination.
This is the secret equation
of the child who plays in joy
and the saint who goes to God
as he slips away
so that he too can play
in the vast playground
of light and sound
in the yogic toy
of his meditation.
Yes, we’re free to use
the worn out muse of the news
we found in yesterday,
but instead perhaps imagine this -
suddenly you can see
that each tree is singing to another tree
that is a part of the branches and roots
of a soaring symphony
that circles the world
with the music of the spheres.
And you feel your fears
melt away
as you become the one
who hears the divine symphonic in the sound
as the Goddess/God calls to you
to come out and play
with all its other beautiful children.
manzanita, juniper, glass 39” x 37”
3' high
Beings
The Guardian
There is the notion in the minds of many
that one breath must lead to another
and that another will lead to plenty,
beginning a strange devotion
to the strange emotion
that too much gratitude
might not be cool and can be rude
to those in the know with the status quo
who’ve learned to smoothly take it all for granted.
But now the Guardians grow disenchanted,
their language becoming more and more candid,
flooding the crop circles and their symbology
with a message to humanity,
“We will not listen to your pleas
when even your shadow tells you you can’t breathe
until you learn to care
for the community of the air
and the water and the earth, and you share
what you bring into their pain body.
Suffering is suffering any where.”
Now is a time of opening, of remembering,
of unearthing all that could not be thrown away
as the darkened details in your DNA find their way
into the clearing of the Conscious Ones.
Prepare your care to find its roots
in all the hidden attributes
of all that was taken
for so long for granted.
Pave your path in the days to come
with of that you have overcome
that now fits so hand in glove
with all that you have ever loved.
Let your mood be transitional,
unequivocal,
unconditional
in appreciation of a genuinely generous universe
fully immersed
in celestial suns pouring out their molten hearts
with the primal food
of redundantly abundant plentitude
each and everyone’s famished tongue
hunts and hungers for.
You have never not been allowed
to witness the nature of the world
through the exploring adoring
of more and more wonder.
manzanita, river stone, glass, copper. 6 ft high
Beings
Phoenix Rising
The Me. The I.
The heart at birth.
East of here
and due north.
Searching for the Ancient One,
older and deeper than the turning earth.
Calling forth
the sacred secrets
It whispers to any
who can listen
of the mysteries of blind worthlessness
reincarnating into worth.
When we sense the relief
that came with a belief is gone
we are invited to go beyond
what we think
we understand
and
search into the seams
of the field of dreams
where all that seems
once upon a timeless time began.
But the door doesn’t open
without the key
held in the hand
of the one who knows
you yourself have ever been
the only source
of the immortality of the mortal mystery
of what is to be and not to be.
And are you yet done
trying to bend
everything you do not
quite comprehend
into docility?
Are you yet done
holding on
to a believability
that spits at you frantically,
over with and thoroughly through
with what you now know
you never quite knew?
Are you done
with the phenomenon
of rain that seems dry
and sun that seems dark
and so much more that
misses the mark
left in your memories?
The dust of centuries is sticky stuff,
but when we’ve had
more than enough,
there is a dream of wings waiting,
the one that Rumi
knew so well.
The one that only the tongue
of the heart can tell
as it whispers
“Excel yourself, my love.
Excel.”
‘Shred and shed
then rest a spell
in the remnants of the body
and the brains
of all the churning emptiness
that now alone remains
as somewhere a Phoenix
shatters it’s shell
and rises.
manzanita, copper, glass, resin
33” high
Primordials
Ending the Enslavement
From the self of the Soul,
I peel away all the dust and rust of fear and doubt
gathered century after century so painstakingly,
at last realizing I can do without
having to believe I know it all,
having to control
the knowing without knowing.
Slowing into my breath
I allow the gentle beauty of the now
to guide my steps
without knowing where I’m going.
But it doesn’t not allow me not to see
the hidden hand of the hard reality
that only too recently
I held near and dear,
as it whispered in my ear,
“Bring your bravery, son of man.
It is time you understand the nature of the slavery
you are now ending.
No great plans will suffice
to undo the suicidal sacrifice
you can and have been doing to yourself”,
as on the altar of my heart I see
an incredibly ancient angel lying bleeding.
Overcome, I walk up
to the altar as a single drop
of my tears falls upon its skin.
But then it rises magically,
hovers and then slowly speaks to me,
“We are both strangers here but brothers once again
on this path of the softened heart.”
Friend with friend,
let it begin -
the divinity of infinity
in the fusion of mind and heart for all to see,
a purely sacred geometry
erupting through humanity.
As I sense a new taste on my tongue,
love that is free at last of all illusion.
manzanita, selenite, geode, stone, metal
Primordials
The Pearl
The walls now undress into windows
and the windows open to let in the breeze
but the wind that was here a moment ago
pauses and turns around flees.
Some may now retreat
behind the walls of Wall Street,
not realizing the dark dragon
long ago entered
and all the king's horses
and all the king's men
swallowed their words
and laid down their swords
and quietly submissively surrendered.
It's human to feel what is now
will always continue to be,
but the wiser ones know
when the change winds blow
across the sands of the lower lands
the pain body of the world is curled
in the hands of the hundredth monkey.
And yet,
in the healing of our fears we become free
and if we wish not be fed by some other
but to comprehend
how to catch what we wish without end,
it helps to discover,
if that is our wish,
if that is our aim,
the best fishermen fish
with the frequencies of
the three-fold nets of
wisdom, power and love
in the waves of this energy sea,
catching not fish but the riches of wishes
of what is to come
and what already is
in the lives we live
as we realize
the twisting dance of our experience
is not the shell
but the pearl of great price.
manzanita, onyx, anchii crystals
Primordials
The Gift of Quarter Moons
Summer listens
to the thousand things
that thrum and hum
into the rain that brings
a tale of hope
to every living thing
that breathes into the leaves
of life.
The winds from nowhere
to nowhere blow
against the human who tries to go
to find destiny
in the fallen scree
of a shadow of an infinity
that won’t stop teasing out
its fables of mortality,
but then takes a breath
and surrenders
to the wandering wonders of summer,
as we learn to lean
into what it means
to return
and truly love her.
Broken hearts
and quarter moons
are brothers in the night.
Some day this heart
will find its other part
and the moon will fill with light.
But not tonight, no, not tonight,
as every little tree
is losing its leaves
and every breathing bird has flown
beyond summer
and beyond autumn
into the decibels heightening
in the shimmer
of the fires of winter
where the quantum wind takes back its own.
manzanita, juniper, quartz
40" high
Primordials
When Viruses Go Viral
The movement and the motion
of rivers take them to the ocean
where the seashells seem to whisper
'be the sea'.
Our breath is also whispering
in the rhythym behind everything
when we fully let it move
through the me in you
and the you in the sea
of me.
Some hold their breath not knowing,
like a secret they're withholding
from the ears of the other
in the fear they discover
they will be revealed.
It matters not that you forgot
it was never real
and that nothing unreal exists,
it still persists and insists you deal
with your condition...on one condition,
that you never learn
it is now your turn
to open.
Our brotherhood of breath
may not be by our request,
yet we find ourselves here,
partners in time,
diminished and unfinished
as we crawl to consciousness
through the honey and the slime
of the beauty and the ugliness
as more chases less and less
through the daily mess
of a dissolving paradigm..
But power now sheds its skin
so where do we begin
if not in the holy middle
of the unsolved cosmic riddle
on the hidden lips of everyone in town.
But few noticed the soil singing
or what the rain was bringing
as the engines of history paused
and then quietly powered down.
manzanita, anchii stones, goldstone
Primordials
The Cry in the Night
Now is no time
to be cosmically blind
to the gratitude we owe
to our shadow.
As if the afterbirth of stain and pain
in the part of the parade
of light and shade
that became oue life
has no worth and deserves only
to be left behind
like a darkened rainbow.
But our shadow knew better
as it held together
its withered cup and gathered up
all that we tried to hide and throw away
because it was more than we could bear,
as our shadow waited for us to strengthen
enough to bear the rage and still care
so it could begin to o share
its sacred secrets.
A human body,
such an amazing place to hide a god
as we realize how much we spend
defending the fraud
of blindly undoing the divinity
that subtly hid in the vicinty
of our childhood.
Until we let the argument end
we've been having with Death
about Eternity
in a university
where students can't comprehend
why no one seems to graduate
except the few who begin
to contemplate
the beauty in the darkness that calibrates
with a cry in the night
in the back of the throat
of everyone's shadow.
manzanita, selenite, ceramic, stone
Primordial
The Towers of Babel in Babylon
Once upon a tower in Babylon
few understood what another said
as another and another lost the thread
as others yet babbled on
through the night and fog-throttled dawn.
And so you turned and walked away,
having nothing else to say
to anyone of the mystery in the moment
that might have been once upon
the hopes and dreams of so much that’s come
and all that’s gone.
Man climbs a wall and sits across the top
and then looks out and then looks down
as he makes his way
back to what looks like solid ground.
And then he climbs another wall
whose rough edges take their tough toll,
and once again looks out over all,
pauses, and then again climbs down.
After many, many, many walls,
many looks and echoed canyon calls,
he puts his shoe
where the stone fell through,
and then, at last, he falls.
At the bottom of the wall lies a lake,
and at the bottom of the lake Love lies awake.
It can not be drowned
but Man loves not deep water,
until he hears the nightingales and whales begin to sing
in a frequency that changes each and every thing
that has been touched by the baited breath
of the deep-sea memory
of ancient ears that hear the hurt
in eyes that have seen
the temple-shattering legacy
of the Leviathan
and breaks that profane umbilical spell
as the waves rise and swell,
swollen with the laughter
on the liquid altar
on the lips of dolphins.
manzanita, selenite
Portals for Mortals -the Third Attention
World consciousness is locked into a place of no answers, sometimes referred to as the first attention. Some have discovered the places of power known as the second attention and equivalent to the alpha frequencies of the subconscious. But it is only by encountering all that we have created and transcending them one belief at a time can we release and regain the power we have ceeded and access the quantum velocity of light and sound in our third attention.
(At the right are pictured the 3 forces that comprise our being in this dimension and , when balanced and unified , offer continuous contact with the akal.
BREATHWAY TOOLS
The Shield of Breath
This book traces my journey through the oscillations of left brain prose to right brain poetry in search of unloving beliefs in my own Akashic Records to see, accept, allow and align more clearly with the divine potentials in each moment.
BreathWAY TOOLS
Breath of Life Breathercize Deck
When I heard inwardly a few years before the pandemic that a time was coming when many "would feel like they couldn't breathe" , I created this deck with 49 exercises to remind others that their breath is truly their best friend and offers immense benefits to all who slow down to the speed of love and invite it in in a new way.
Besides synchronizing with the challenges of daily experience, this deck assists with the middle stage of 3-fold breathing, the navigation through timeless time via intent.
$15.00 each