As concrete melts into dirt and grass
and skyscrapers become pine trees,
I fall into the snow and promise
myself to stay until spring.

As the snow continues to fall,
I am covered until I become
the snow and the earth and
the roots of spring’s growth.

What was a full mind
is replaced with snow,
ice, and water dispalcing
everything until there is nothing.

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.

 

Grey infused frozen water consumes the last light before the fields darken.

Distant planets follow me from dawn until dusk and a new world emerges where I have become one with beings and energy I do not understand yet make sense at levels I did not know existed.

I left my field years before I arrived here, in search of a new beginning, a chance to erase the past, the stories I have written.

Days traversing empty fields become lost in the mountain shadow where the sky became the ground as we became blind from snow and ice.

With no vision or guidance I was forced to remember ancient words from mountain tops.

It was difficult to separate the truth from lies, the cloaked wolves from the bodhisattva sent from beyond the shadows.

I stumbled upon a rock and fell into a creek feed from glaciers. I feel deep to the bottom of the creek and then I stopped.

The cold become the darkness of my being. The shadows thickened and became a vision of nothing, an island of another existence.

In that moment of eternity I stood on the shoreline of swirling black light and stared at the island. On that island a life played out like a movie and after some time, I realized it was my life, it was my movie.

I watched the choices and decisions I made, the people I loved, and the people I hurt. I watched the distance I kept and the selfishness I exuded. At times, I thought those on the island, in that temporal dream state, looked over at me across the distance as I watched them, as if they know I was there apart from the person they were interacting with.

When darkness becomes all that we know, a choice is presented to grow beyond the person whose own words and actions put them there.

I have written a bit about the concept of an empty field and what this means spiritually, mentally, and physically to myself as a wandering soul, a student of this life struggling to relate and come to terms with previous lives.  The empty field is the essence of the mind and energy transferred to a physical state, represented by a field, landscape, or a similar feature of nature.  This field is like a chessboard, and there are pieces representing parts of the person such as memories, roadblocks, behaviors, and habits that prevent a more peaceful and happier existence.  We do not have to struggle and suffer. We can choose and recast ourself and re-enter the world.


Romanticism of the Empty Field

(1)

From two perspectives –
the field gives, and
the field takes.

I see mountains and other
landscapes miles away, yet
here they have no influence.

Yet I cannot help wonder
what was here before me?
Before emptiness?
Does this field hold the
mountains higher, or offer
clear water to the gods?

On this particular day
cloudless and bright
there was no wind,
there was no sound.

I stopped on a single boulder
with eyes closed and filled the
emptiness with childhood memories –
moments we bring into the present
and view with a diffused and
soft light – the romanticism
of our past.

What happens to the real
memories, the emotions – where
are these upon the empty field?

Have I already incorporated
what I needed, taken the experience
and lessons, and discarded what
does not work, what only
weighs me down?

(2)

When I stand before the
entrance to the valley
and the immense gates
ask questions of me

how do I answer truthfully
when I left part of me
scattered and broken
fractured and fragmented
across millions of miles
of empty field?

Does the gate see the
same light or hear
the same vibrations as I?

(3)

I step down from the boulder
and vow to recast the person
I am into the person I should be
and begin to reassemble the being
from the pieces.

Absent of light
the earth gathers itself

reaching out to dark corners
and pulling back that which strayed.

Before light returns
she counts each

being and sighs
before it begins again.

 Earth Day
Earth Day

A quiet moment as the sun sets.
Fields emerging from thinning snow.

What is distant is near –
train horn and coyotes
cause us to look over
tree tops into the horizon.

Logically I know the concept of
time, a forward motion from here
to there, from present to future –
a progression – time is irrelevant
in the grand design, when forward
is backward and direction, speed,
destination become limitless.

Emotionally I feel the years
as 40 descends like pine singing
in the summer afternoon – gentle
and soft, powerful with memories
of other worlds.

The stone path I have walked
diligently on one level, eyes closed
on another, and haphazard on some,
provided the experiential growth
I needed to rise above the languishing
being I had become, and become what
I am supposed to be and be what
I am not supposed to be – the balance
of water and earth.

I face the rising sun across
the ice and forget my name,
what others say I should be,
the labels we receive – and
listen to the wind and the
trees voice – not words,
but vibrations, and energy that
give way images and then nothing
as it moves around and through me
the sharp light becomes murky and
fuzzy before sharpening and expanding
and that which I though I saw
disappears.

Replaced with what it truly is
I swim within the dharma
and know time and age do not
matter – I have found the
stone path home and now I walk
everywhere and nowhere.

2014-03-02 07.34.28

This was written by Hanakia Zedek, a great friend, brother, and being with no place.

http://www.edgemagazine.net/2014/03/the-great-mystery/


The Great Mystery
The Great Mystery

To me, the idea of god is no mystery. We simply project our egocentric ideas of self onto a universal model and blam: you have gods relative to belief and culture. The real mystery is all of that space out there and in here — Outer and Inner Space — and us as space ships navigating it.

The problem is that we are trained to think from the perspective of existence, yet, most of this universe is non-existence. This fact riddles the mind and we simply can’t wrap it around the notion that we came out of Nothing.

To me, it makes perfect sense — from a microcosmic perspective relative to the relationship between the parts of an atom or from a macrocosmic perspective relative to the relationship between the parts of a system; in a word, functionality. If a system doesn’t have an inherent design of function, it simply doesn’t work. There is an unspoken universal awareness that is not mind or entity based.

Through training, a human is convinced that there is a supreme entity, yet, when we look at anything closely we see that there isn’t anything “in control” and that its functionality is inherent. Without the human consciousness and belief, the universe goes on its merry way — although we’d like to think that it was all about us. That is as silly as the belief that the Earth is the center of the Universe. Our self-importance is astounding.

The Great Mystery is not about how or why it is more of an experience that we are lucky enough to be having and aware of. Belief is cross-cultural misconception to personify something that is not just relative to us and the projections thereof. What we see in space — inner and outer — is expansion beyond human egocentric explanation.

Try this:

1. Take responsibility for your actions, feelings, thoughts, and experiences.

2. Do what you really want to do without adding anyone else to the equation.

3. Realize that you are either allowing or creating what you are going through.

4. Understand that your reality is governed by how you perceive things and the actions that you take relative to that perception.

You get what you believe, yet, this does not make it real or true — just part of your program. People run around believing that what they think is true, when what they see is only for them because they or someone else convinced them it was the truth; it’s in their heads, nowhere else.

Here is the Great Mystery of World Peace: Deal with yourself and stop worrying about everyone else. We make things more complicated than they need to be, based on what we believe. Release and let it go, like everything else does on this planet.

Things are mysterious when we lack the awareness to simply see and listen to them. Anything after that is the mere articulation of the experience we have had or the silence therein having the experience itself. What is ever really happening — other than our minds chattering? The unknown becomes known when we stop trying to rationalize it with our own puny, little minds.

As we access who we really are, we realize we are not what we can identify, so deeper down the Rabbit Hole we go into the unknown. Whatever we experience becomes part of us and us of it. Identification is a human character flaw at times, when it gets in the way of the experience that we are having called life. Even the idea of life gets in the way, because we exist beyond the illusions of both life and death — and yet, we fear them both. There isn’t any mystery beyond what we are not prepared to see.

What if this universe is self-organized, self-inspired, self-generated? And I am not talking from a perspective that we are all or it all is god. What if it simply is and there is no reason? From the smallest to the largest thing, everything functions and has an inherent knowledge or instinct of what is necessary — and so, too, do all of the parts thereof.

The mind wonders — the universe does not; it simply functions effectively. Not too mysterious, eh? “How” or “why” is a human thing. If we stop assigning meaning, purpose or cause, we can go deeper into the experiencing of things as they are.

Maybe that’s just it. Ask a tree or a bird or the sun how all of this has come and you won’t get an answer. Not one. We just make up some.

If there is something that you don’t understand, stand in awe and wonder and allow the experiential mysteries to unfold within and before you. See if this moves you towards or away, then go or stay.

Copyright © 2014 Hanakia Zedek. All Rights Reserved.

Daily observations from Lutsen, MN


#1
Rocky shoreline, we walked
with Leroy following closely
behind, grows when the sun
sets and the superior water
becomes frozen and black.

#2
Across the blackness there
is space, inhabited,
desolate, empty – except
today when I see each
stone and each snowflake.

#3
Starlight from galaxies
is ancient, yet strong, flickers
across black ice, across
my child’s eye.

#4
Away from the city we
revel in stars and constellations
we only see in textbooks and
through other’s eyes.

DSCF0314

The burning city
settles below the horizon
as evening darkens trees
and empty streets.

~

Lost into haze I
let go and allow instincts
to guide me through each
day, unaware of each
step and each mile that
passes, I arrive and
I leave this space.

~

I see black shadows
across the ceiling, in utter silence
neither of us make a move, no breath,
no physical movements,
just black air and spirit.

~

I look into the
mirror back at the
person I have become.
Surgical scars, greying hair,
and other signs of advancing age
or too much time on this earth,
dominate the picture and
serve to remind me of
progression, mortality, and
a hint of what lies ahead.

~

I peer closer and beyond
at the intricate black
lines, curves, bent, and
shaped into reminders of
the life I have led,
experiences, to guide
this path and set the stage
for the next.

My spiritual brother, Hanakia Zedek, is having surgery today.  I wrote this poem to aid in his recovery.


You are not in my prayers
but in my thoughts
and in the spirit I have
shared with you and that
you have shown through
your kindness, your laughter,
and you being you.

On that path that does not exist
you walk with eyes closed and mind open.

Recreating events of battles,
warriors, and the destruction of self.

Through eons you have traveled
and landed here next to your tiger.

You have carried others through life
and now we will carry you.


He rises smiling from
the concrete and rubble
untouched, unscathed
with dreadlocks he has returned.

Arms raised, not to heaven
not to any god – to home
out there, beyond here
this existence, this ill-defined reality
to a birthplace mired in plasma,
neo nuclear processes
and colliding atomic particles.

Dark matter conceals his presence
while vibrating strings
conduct the orchestra he plays.

Chased by black holes and
chaotic matrices, jumping
from universe to universe.

The infinite energy pushing outward
ever-expanding, the waves are his horse
the asteroids iron his sword.

One foot here, the other beyond
his mind nowhere soaked in Nothing.