Human energy
is like water,
flowing.

You cannot hold it.

You can swim against it,
you can drown in it,
or you can flow with it.

As a little boy,
I aspired to be a cat.

Now,
near the other end of my life,
I can see again
what my young eyes saw.

A cat simply IS,
supremely content,
in every moment,
with its lack of choice or ability
to become anything other
than what it is.

But we humans,
we are always striving,
to become better,
to be more than we are.

My years have taught me this:
wanting to be different from what we are
is the root of suffering.

Oh, to become like the cat,
accepting our Creator’s blessing,
bathing in the gratitude
of simply being what we are.

Time spins on,
and the sun sinks below the sky,
semaphoring, brightly, in the windows,
and then dusk wheels in,
pulling the night behind it.

A bigger wheel turns,
and trees lose their coat of green,
flashing into brilliance,
then fading to brown.

And life rolls on,
little wheels, big wheels,
each moment ripening
and falling away,
giving way to the next,
a timeless dance of becoming,
ending,
becoming.

If you are truly Spirit,
Beyond your Little Mind,
Be your own guru!

Wisdom is everywhere,
So why seek it
Outside yourself?

Beneath the lies you think,
Is the truth you know.

So listen,
Trust,
And follow!

You stand at peace,
in total concentration,
rooted like a tree,
firm in your vision.

Out of stillness,
birthed in your intention,
grows each perfect action,
unfolding, with nature’s grace.

Each motion is a word
in the poetry of cause and effect,
a step in the dance of matter,
a note in the song of energy.

It is Being taking form,
the Ideal becoming real,
flowing through you,
body, mind, and Spirit.

Vivid in the sun,
Each building jumps out,
As if in 3D,
Popping out of the picture,
Yearning for the eye.

The clouds paint nature’s backdrop,
Full of chaotic grandeur,
A wild gumbo
Of light and dark.

This is more than movie magic,
Beyond what the mind imagines.
This is the shock of awakening
To the Real.

As time slows down,
geese walk on water.

As time speeds up,
flowers dance.

Slow or fast,
it is all in our seeing.

Everything is standing still,
and also dancing!

What creates?

How is what the painter paints
Different from these clouds,
Brushed across the sky?

How are the intricate folds of foliage
Different from the strokes of an artist’s pen,
Etched, line by line, into paper?

Are these not the works of One artist,
Manifest in everything?

What are these words,
But the universe telling itself
Of its own beauty?

The light
of perfection
lies hidden,
behind the shadows
of our expectations.

Life,
like the internet,
can take you anywhere.

So ask yourself:
Where do I want to go?