Nothing to blame

even that habit may fall away
cherished yet empty
the thoughts return
gently
the storm settles into waves
and the wave die out
as the moon of belief
fades

Tuning my brain

like a radio, or perhaps a satellite
Tossed chaotically or with purpose
Tell me who knows, really?
For right now, there is no difference
what comes across my screen
I can return to this still point
The carrier wave of my life
That goes on without beginning
Long before I was given “this life”’’’’’’’’’

New Perspectives

Born continuously
Not-knowing
Experience
Appears

without preference
Or condition
gratitude

With movement

Up late I rise reluctantly, groggy and grumpy.

The depressive extremes of yesterday’s
emotions still echoing through me. I wish for a different experience
today, fearing the past so recent. So often "my” sufferings seem so
personally objectionable, for some inane reason.
The habits of shame, depression and despair so believable,
So real, not unlike the belief of truth, bliss and joy that
Juxtapose my emergent awareness of existence.

I gravitate toward the “pleasant” while
Contrasting my suffering against humanity
All of my experiences feel so personal or conversely distant
This dialectic of seeking attention or
not giving a fuck at all
About those I know or those I don’t
I seem to mirror the world

albeit imperfectly.

Thursday Morning

What is this experience we call Love
Is it life wearing a beautiful Mask?
Is it truth holding a mirror to ourselves?
Is it intoxication of the most perfect sort?
Is it the practice of coming back to the breath?
Nothing new to say, Just perhaps a fresh, soft perspective
Looking into the eye of love, What moves away?
What call do we hearken to? That is sweeter than this song
Whose refrain is echoing through-out the universe,
around the water hole*

*1420.40575 MHz

Calcutta Moth

Not a day for great writing, I just want to put something up, so here is a shot taken at my friend Arnibans house on Jera Krishna Mitra Road in N. Calcutta. Arniban, his mother, brother and extended family a were wonderfull hosts, nursemaids and a new extended family, whilst i was an ill guest, in the family home.

I guess this means that i consider this blog a form of expression, or art, or a very underextended attempt to gain attention. The Libraries were wonderful today, Steiner, Heraclitus & Feldenkrais came home with us.