I have waited too long
for the world to be
just as I thought it ought to be.

I have let my happiness depend
on what goes on around me;
I have given up my power
to the vagaries of circumstance.

So now, I place my trust
in the world within,
at the center of infinity,
where everything is possible,
and already perfect,
just as it is.

Street light flickers on the pavement,
filtered through the swaying branches.

Beauty is in the interplay
between disparate things,
dancing.

Day after day,
a sad, deranged man
vies desperately for our attention,
and we, in our complicity,
give him what he asks for.

Will we ever learn
to break free of this compulsion,
like rubberneckers on a highway,
as we pause in our own lives
to wallow in the mire
of his sad imaginings?

The gift of our attention
is a poison pill,
polluting all our spirits
with anger and fear,
dooming us, and him
to an endless loop
of fevered dreams.

It is up to each of us
to break this cycle,
and help to heal
our country’s wounded soul.

There is no past,
and there never was.

There is no future,
and there never will be.

All there ever is
is now,
and that is all
I’ll ever need.

More and more,
my mind is lately filled
with thoughts about awakening
to the present moment.

And then,
when I notice I am thinking,
I stop, seeing the irony
of my mind’s incessant yearning,
and let myself awaken
to the present moment.

There is no such thing
as a black person,
or a white person,
or a red or yellow person.

There is no human skin
which is truly black,
white, red, or yellow.

Why, then,
do we treat these labels
as if they were real,
delineating some real difference?

The rainbow of our skins
is simply shades
of beige and brown,
with hints of red and yellow.

There is no such thing
as a black person,
or a white person,
or a red or yellow person.

There are only people.

When I have lost my center,
floundering for meaning,
I need only watch the moon,
the clouds rolling past it,
a planet twinkling beside it,
and I am back where I belong,
in the midst of creation.

Sometimes I annoy myself,
and then I see myself
annoying myself,
and then I am the witness
to these bickering “selves”.

As I observe them, they dissolve
into so much smoke and noise,
drifting like weather
through an infinite sky.

More and more,
I am realizing
that there is no destination,
beyond the full experience
of where I already am.

The less I look outside myself
or to the future,
the more I discover
the completeness
that is already in me.

The more the distractions
of seeking and grasping
fall away,
the more I uncover the perfection
that is already always there!

If you want to reach me,
don’t give me anger, fear, or disgust -
I have enough of those already.

When I see the darkness
in my own mind,
I am drawn to look beyond it
to whatever gives out light.

Shine some of that my way,
and I will give you my attention!