I used to know
how to be a friend,
back when the story of “me”
seemed solid and definite,
a menu of how to feel,
what to expect,
how to act.

But, as I step outside this story,
observing it like snippets
of a remembered dream,
it seems slowly to crumble,
like a building made of air.

So here I stand,
without an edifice,
looking out from nothing
into nothing,
not knowing
what I should be.

Looking out into the world,
I can trust what created us
to let me be just as I am,
without a plan.

When I meet someone afresh,
I can likewise trust
this energy that binds us,
without a history,
in a moment of spontaneous creation.

So, if I met you again,
as if I had never met you,
as if there were no story,
I might discover
how to be your friend.

Standing in that common space,
we could be ourselves,
not striving for connection,
but enjoying what already is.

Embracing emptiness
is not like succumbing
to nothingness.

It is cleaning the closet
of the mind,
until it is a clear space,
like an open sky
through which clouds of thought
may come and go,
without lingering,
without clutter.

It is like standing
in an open field,
inspiring in its grandeur,
and pregnant
with possibilities.

Genuine love
is remembering
that we all came
from the same place,
and that, in the end,
we will all return there.

Facing that,
all our apparent differences
pale into insignificance.

We are either all the same,
or, in our dream of separation,
we are nothing
but dust.

Stories resolve themselves;
life doesn’t.

The more we look for resolution,
the more we are disappointed.

What if the stars and planets,
as they spin around the sky,
have no more effect on our lives
than a butterfly’s breath,
half a world away?

What if this dance,
in its infinite grace,
embraces the chaos around us,
shaping our experiences,
but not limiting them?

What if each
of our predicaments
has no cause
but our fears colliding
with the quantum dance of chance,
in this infinite universe,
amongst an infinity
of universes?

What if karma, itself,
is not a mechanism,
but simply
the greatest dance
of all?

When death finally comes,
will I be able to let go,
and say, with gratitude,
“This has been a life worth living!”?

So may I,
in each moment
from now until then,
likewise let go
of all regrets and aspirations,
and say joyfully,
“Yes, this is a life worth living!”

When we come together
to drum and dance,
it is our agreement,
unspoken among us,
to abandon our apparent differences,
and to celebrate
all that connects us.

In this sacred circle,
we agree to talk
only through our drumming,
and not with our words;
not as individuals,
but only as one being.

We agree to focus
on communicating
through our rhythms,
with which we share
this sacred space,
and not through a cell phone
(that digital garden of ego),
with those whose approval
we so habitually seek.

We agree to set aside
this sense of “me”,
if only for the moment,
and, immersed in this rhythmic communion,
to allow ourselves to melt back
to our common source,
where all there is
is “us”.

There are tortured souls
who, in their dream of weakness,
only torture themselves;
but there are tortured souls
who, in their dream of strength,
torture us all.

And so, as we watch a fellow human
sinking slowly into the depths
of his own depravity,
how do we name what we see?

If we watched it on Netflix, or HBO,
we would call it entertainment;
on CNN, or in the NY Times,
we call it news.

How have we come,
with so little empathy
and so little understanding,
to accept these as equivalent,
as if our worst imaginings
(delightful as they might be
in the realm of fantasy)
were acceptable as reality,
to be witnessed without complaint,
as if this were only another form
of entertainment?

Every time I feel this urge
to grasp at something,
and I look at what
my empty hands
are trying to hold,
all I see
is emptiness.

Every sense
of “not enough,
not okay,
it must be fixed,
it can’t remain like this”,
is just a thought,
a distraction
from what is.

To let that thought go,
to relax into this moment,
is to embrace whatever
is uncomfortable within us,
and give it comfort.

(A reflection on mindfulness and social media)

The most powerful question I have ever heard
is “Where are you directing your energy?”

Every word, or thought, or image
that we add to our informational soup
becomes part of this sea of ideas
that we all swim and breathe in.

And just as our oceans
become befouled
with our waste,
so does our virtual sea
grow murky and toxic
with a million tokens
of emotional violence
tossed carelessly into its depths.

And just as the Earth, our Mother,
has graced us
with this beautiful and nurturing home,
so have we been gifted,
through own brilliance,
with this digital ocean,
in which we are privileged
to share a universe
of feelings and ideas.

So, as we drift
in our little boats of identity,
there is a chance for each of us,
as we toss our minds’ progeny
into the depths around us,
to pause, and wonder,
“If this were the only thing
that comprised this sea,
would these be the kind of waters
I would choose for myself
and those I love
to swim in?”