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I can assure you that you will not find your golden ball not up here in the airstream were I reside. It’s deep in the muck of the jungle, in the darkness of the cave you fear. So do not pray, do not pay, there’s nothing I can give. There is no map for the divine cartography of human lives.

But worry not, for you’ve not lost your way. Never has it been for one to reach the destination at a single place, nor does one arrive at any one of them at a single time. you’ve hardly been on this journey and too often you stop too early, mistaking understanding with understanding that there is something to be understood. the latter is the very beginning, the opening road; you’re still in the shire, dear.

The Trinity of Time, Effort and Focused Energy is the eternal order: When you receive a new understanding understand it’s like you are being given a pair of oars — still you will have to find the canoe (you might have to build one); still will you have to locate the deep river; still you will have to learn how to navigate the invisible; still you will have to learn how to row the oars so that they stir much more than the water…

The tender glow of sunlight broke through the city air
Massaging tired shoulders, wounding with its glare
Words dealt by a stranger, given with a gentle heart
Not knowing that they struck the mind like a target by a dart.

The hotel was smashed to a pulp.
Quite literally.
As the door opened, nothing but dust escaped into the hallway.
The tattooed walls that led up to the room should have been the first clue
But when the doors opened, the magic escaped,
And all that was left was rubble.

Wait three days to call, or else you’ll break the rules.
Never admit that you’re intrigued; honesty’s for fools.
Want to tell her you’re in love? Don’t be silly, it’s too quick
Don’t you know that love’s a game; a complex riddle, practiced trick?

Don’t say a word,
Hold your breath,
It will all be fine.
I can’t believe what’s happening right before mine eyes,
And yet,
Somehow,
It all feels right.
It would make the best topic of poetry,
The sweetest sounds of music,
And the most wonderful speech,
But you and I will never speak a word of it again.

He had hair a shade of auburn that looked like fire in the sun
Blue eyes as cold as ice; a single stare enough to stun.
My blood surged with every touch, skin blushing with burning heat
Now this empty bed feels frigid; unignited, incomplete.

Celestial inquiries: In all of biology, is life not bubbles rising from the deep quantum deep and death occurring when they reach the surface and merge with the air and the sky of the Mystery? Is it possible for a culture today to root itself in the celestial? To access a lost dimension, to encounter a dimension of awareness which cuts through the world of subjectivity and objectivity, fiction and nonfiction, and goes down to that which is not world, not even accessible in words, but is the mystery of the Ground of Being?

Whoever might be reading this, if what i’m trying to say is hard to follow, I’ll try to elucidate it with a thought exercise: Imagine if all the dust in your house lifted and gathered around the nearest light bulb. And after several days it coalesces as a sphere rotating and revolving steadily around the light. By the end of the week, a thin blue haze forms around it and with it there forms bodies of water and expanses of green stuff growing across the surface. After a few more days, you notice tiny moving specks and under a magnifying glass you notice these are not mere dust particles caught in the wind but an incredible diversity of creatures swimming, running, flying –evolving, learning, creating, speaking, writing, wondering — asking where all they are apart of came from.

Imagine if you witnessed that happen: a ball of dust form and form a world teaming with life. I don’t know you, but I don’t have to in order to know you’re life would profoundly change; you would have very little say in the matter. The dust would not be something you could ever brush off. This would make things like being abducted by aliens or having pomegranate tea with a talking vegan tyrannosaurus rex seem casual.

What we do know is that 13.7 billion years ago all there was in the universe was a vast gas cloud of hydrogen and helium. Let two gases do their thing and eventually you will get me writing this and you reading this; we get a world that has oneword. For our scientific understandings of evolutionary biology, chemistry, physics, cosmology for a moment. Let your mind recoil from itself for a moment; lose your self in how mysterious this all really is.

A deep, permeating sense of the miraculousness for existence would make things like war for profit, the needless suffering and starvation of millions, and the destruction of the biosphere, impossible.

Spin me a web of tales and fortunes
From the loom of fate and time,
Build me a dream to set my sights on
From a place filled with guile and rhyme,
Let me embrace the stars during the day
And say goodnight to the dawn,
The night is the blackness and light of my soul,
It keeps me journeying on.