ancient

Poem – Rain

When my mind becomes scattered,
when each of the thoughts I held
in my core is lost to the wind,
I seek out answers and resolutions
from the natural world.

On mornings when the grey sky
covers the sun and the forest
lives in its own green exterior,
the cold air lays upon the skin,
and you know that rain is near.

Each drop a fragment of some
larger being or existence beyond
this world and my body reacts to the cold
by reassembling the core and bringing
this being back into a whole form.

Poem – Across the Salted Plains

Across the salted plains
We watch the sun fall
The moon rise
The machines sleep.

In dreams spaced by 100 years
I see you on the highest peak
Of the homeland we once
Ruled together.

I woke in the snow blanketed forest
Facing the morning sky.

Tenants of dreams fill each fiber and neuron,
I can only piece together that I was not made for this world.

I lost direction when the void
Overtook my body and my mind
Accelerating through space
Toward unexplored, unknown, and untouched worlds.

Where is our home now?

Above photo from: Nancy Chuang

Nature – Delicate Relationship

There is something dramatic and something many times larger than us. What surrounds and embraces us with reluctance because we are there within its midst.

The thrill of venturing into unknown and undiscovered lands, into unnamed glaciers, lakes with undisturbed shorelines, trails and elevations unknown to maps, lives within us. I desire to truly experience wilderness, the way the scene unfolded before God’s eyes and the final touch of a masterpiece, with unfettered air breathed when emerging from primitive shelters, built by hand from what the land offered and gave to them. Where does this experience lie in our time? Is there some far away land, hidden under tussocks fed by glacial streams, within a mountain’s shadow? Who or what holds this experience secret, and pristine? Does it even exist anymore? It might remain an elusive chase and game, an experience we live and die by in our dreams, the end game we pour our heart and soul into.

Why do we chase that experience so close to our fingertips, yet the feeling, the tingle, so elusive? What is encoded into our bodies and our DNA?

What is the most pure, and at the same time, most simple experience we as humans, can learn from? It is time spent alone, with your hands as survival tools, sustenance found while roaming the free land, water down the hill at the creek, ripe berries dangling in the morning sun reflecting dew, fallen trees and dried bush to make the evening’s fire.

The cold water lifted from the high-tide runs through the clenched fist. The eastern wind passes through the outstretched arms and fingertips. The ancient trees reach for the sky with entrenched roots that have withstood time, storms, and worse, human intervention. What all of these elements have in common is their resilience and ability to thrive without humans, and the unfortunate consequence of dying at our hands.

Who is to adopt and change in this sometimes toxic relationship?

2016-01-01-08-13-15

2016-01-02-07-19-06

2016-01-02-07-34-28

2016-01-03-07-16-01

Poem – Nowhere

I walk the path half
here and half there
that place that has no name
and when I close my eyes
I become engulfed
in the falling white petals
from the ancient sky.

Poem – Stain

If I pull back the thick fog
they still consume my eyes.

If I run into the water and let go,
let the waves push and pull me as

I fall toward the floor, they
consume my conscious thoughts

and what was empty and calm
becomes clouded and my next

actions are in conflict to
what I was taught and I am

left with the ancient memories,
a stain of my former being.

Poem – Strings

Moments I feel disconnected from the activity surrounding and swallowing me.

The words heavy, actions sharp, the light too much to see.

I want to live peacefully and cast a wide net but the fields are overgrown,

the boulders too large, the obstacles too many.

Those we do not know beyond what we are fed are angry,

the hatred emerging from thousands of years ago.

Who really is the enemy, who really is the friend?

What role do I play, what picture will I paint?

The more I question, the more I look, I see

strings scattered across the desert floor.

Various colors and widths, each I touch and lift

is buried in the ground.

Each I touch vibrates and images unfamiliar

emotions that are foreign overtake my mind and body.

I lay on the ground and immediately the strings work

to overtake what I am giving to them, and I now choose

to receive the gift of becoming one with nature, one

with everything spanning time, distance, and borders.

 

Quantum Physics Came From the Vedas

An article that examines and discusses the historical origination of Quantum Mechanics from ancient Hinduism philosophy and texts – the Vedic texts.

http://www.krishnapath.org/quantum-physics-came-from-the-vedas-schrodinger-einstein-and-tesla-were-all-vedantists/

Reincarnation

Reincarnation

Poem – Mountain King

Mountain shadows swallow the valley.

A single path cuts through dense and overgrown vegetation beneath the ancient forest and persistent shining moon.

Millions of years have passed unnoticed to the solitary figure walking alone down this path.

He has not rested, has has not slept.

He has met no other being.

He is the mountain king.

Poem – One

The world is large, sphere-like
and hurtling through space.

Life began in primordial forms
billions of years before

giving the life we have
through complex processes.

At some point in ancient
history of the human species

we merged from the same source
from the same cells and sub-atomic parts.

We are one and in this together.

Poem – I Touched the Moon

The other evening under an August sky
a faint Orion stood tall next to the moon.

I wrapped my arms around the softness
felt ancient love, a timeless longing.

I touched the moon

Silver-Bay-2009-12-31 017