Nothing will substantially be different
until there is a difference
in the story of “I”.

Questioning my need
to know the answers

Relaxing into what is truly happening

Drifting gracefully deeper

Letting the story of self
die in the mind

and yet…

I am still here

noticing..

that I am still alive

feeling better
for letting go

releasing the need
to hang on

To FEAR

I invented you

Now disappear

I have news you may not want to hear

It doesn’t matter
If you work it out
Work on it
Work through it
Get into it
Get over it
Get out of it
Go deeper
wade into the shadows
or just wallow in the shallows

There is no one doing any of this
It’s just what’s happening
To no one separate person

Which doesn’t matter
And having it not matter
Doesn’t matter either

This is the beautiful, liberated
“so-what-ness”
of “what-is-ness”

Waking up in the dream

Love has no moving pieces
No-thing to break
No-thing to heal
No-thing to move
grieve, give or receive

Love is everywhere
It is oneness
It is this oneness
This presence
This life

Pain and struggle begin and end with a story
The story of “I”
The story that there is choice
The story that there is something that can be done to love
The story that love is a something that can be sent or received
The story of no-thing appearing as something
In this dream
The dream of separation
In the illusion of the “I” story
Appearing in the play
Appearing in this movie
Of consciousness
In oneness

Divided by the notion of a mirror
The mirror of confusion
The mirror of not love
The mirror of love
The mirror is a story
The story that says there is something “I” can be
Is there anything for no-thing to “be” in oneness?
The story that there is something “I” can do
Is there anything for no-thing to “do” in oneness?
The mirror story is the story of separation
The mirror is a reminder that there is no-thing separate from oneness
In the play
In this dream
In oneness

Is love a stamped letter with a return address?
Is love a carrier pigeon bringing a message home?
Is love a bottle tossed in the ocean with a secret message?
Is love the “other” separate from “I”?
“Who am I?”
The “I” that appears to be able to perceive no-thing as something?
In the play
In this dream
In oneness

We tell stories to imagine a journey that cannot be traveled
Tell me where is the road to love?
Is it on the frozen tundra of winter war?
Is it a wounded body crushed under a muddy wagon wheel?
Is it a fragrant flower inviting silent joy?
Is it lovers intertwined in the thousandth intoxicating kiss?

Who is this “I” who can say where love “is”?
Who is this “I” who defines what love “is” or “isn’t”
This no-thing called love appearing as something
In the play
In this dream
In oneness

Everything we do
We do
So we don’t have to do it
That is all

Thank you for sharing the dream
That love can be sent
That love can be received
That love is someone other than “I”
That there is an “I”
That love can come back
To where it already is
In the play
In this dream
In oneness

Thank you for the reminder
That Love is already home

I AM A FLOWER

I AM ONE

WITH THE ONE

I’m on a don’t need to know basis

And I don’t need to know

I am not my story
I am pure consciousness

Love comes to me easily
Love flows continually outward

Blossoming into the flow of creation

Don’t add me to yours

This chatty crap has to go

I just wanna fuck