As I walk this earth
as a human being,
there are things
I’ve been given,
for as long as I’m here.

I have a body,
but I am not my body.

I have a mind,
but I am not my mind,
not my thoughts,
my feelings,
my dreams,
or my fears.

I am what comes
before these,
and what lasts
beyond them.

I am life flowing,
and its grateful witness.

I have tried,
in this life,
to be so many different things,
always suspecting
I was just an imposter.

All of my efforts
have left this lingering doubt:
that I was not what I aspired to be.

Only in my failures
have I glimpsed this truth:
that I am only what I am,
only the awareness
that “I am”,
and nothing more.

Stripped of my pretensions,
I am once again perfect,
simple and complete,
like the day I was born.

The stories of our lives
are not our lives.

They are merely
what we tell ourselves
about moments past,
or moments that might be.

We spend our lives in these dreams,
revising and embellishing them,
like re-arranging deck chairs on the Titanic,
never realizing that,
if the ship of our identity
would dissolve around us,
we would not drown!

These are the worlds we live in,
when we forget the present moment,
forgetting to be here,
now.

The most uncomfortable thing
about being uncomfortable
is to be uncomfortable
about being uncomfortable.

To relax into your own discomfort,
to give up your resistance,
is to be released from its tyranny.

To love someone
or something
is to accept them totally,
exactly as they are.

It is celebrating
your connection with them,
and the subtle differences
that make them unique.

Love is accepting
that everything changes;
that the objects of our love
will eventually leave us,
in the natural flow
of living and dying.

Love is cherishing
our momentary angels,
our gifts in each moment,
without demanding more.

(reflections on my car and the universe)

As I walk away from my car,
thanking it for carrying me,
I pat it fondly,
wondering:
does it have a spirit?

And I remember:
it is made of the same stuff
that I am,
that comprises all things.

And what else is all of this,
except spirit,
flowing in its infinite forms?

Everything we know
is just a passing cloud
from the dust of a distant singularity,
still bound,
through some spooky entanglement,
to its original spirit,
the seed of all that is.

We are all its progeny,
man and beast,
animate and inanimate,
and all of it
deserves our love
and our gratitude.

When you look,
see!

When you hear,
listen!

When you pause in your thinking,
in any particular moment,
let the world pour into you;
there will always be beauty,
and always be magic
to be found.

Look up from your thoughts,
from your distractions
and your fears,
and a universe of wonders
will reveal themselves!

I am not the person
I was yesterday.

I am wearing his shoes,
breathing in his body,
living in his house.

These are the gifts
I walk around this world with,
gratefully;
but they are not me.

Each day,
as I wake up,
I am someone new.

Heir to the memories
of past days,
I am born into the present,
breathing its air,
walking its paths.

It is a world
I have never lived in,
and never will again.

It is the world
I always live in,
and always will.

Replace your outrage
with curiosity,
and the world will be
a friendlier place.

Give up your certainty,
and a universe
of delights and comforts
will await you.

There is much in the world
that needs fixing,
but there is much
that needs to be loved,
to be valued and enjoyed,
exactly as it is.

Love is not desire
for someone
or something.

It is being open
for giving
and receiving,
without hopes
or expectations.

Love is not wanting;
wanting is only
imagined need,
for whatever
we seem to lack.

To love truly
is to feel complete,
to celebrate
what we already have,
what we already are,
which connects us
to everyone
and everything.