a re-enchantment curls upon open waves of unfolding flow. wonder slips through the window filling the room with light and a curving sense of emergent life. a gentle repetition urges soul awake building fields of deep knowing. limbs spin. eyes rise. a splashing dance sings upon an endless ocean.
an emergent surge dances my bliss awake, turning time into expansive space with rich, dark red boundaries and favorable conditions for an array to arrive.
an open roar, lights on the horizon, a vast expanse opening through a touch of fear and awe and a sweet coolness of february air connecting our breath. sinking into the treasured touch of two, a deep dipping flip into a magnetic pull aligning attractive fields. hands together, palm to palm, she moves as his reach, he moves as her knowing flow. dance slows to sing tone up, a weaving dream of fiber and field.
words tumble forth in a recapitulation encapsulating an entwined mind. language paints thought home, forwarding perspective as a spark of potential. she gazes into eye’s uplift, turning him around as sound and motion and softening hands. an endless ocean pours a rhythmic tide though the wet fullness splashing as love upon an easy slope.
there! sparking! chk chk whhhhhhhhshhhhh.
thick juicy boundaries dissolve in a subtle play of forces and fields and patterns upon our brow. eyes fly as expanded space dreams open our envelope, pouring forth letters of love and color. lines curve upon the page in a swooshing practice playing potent proportion.
a trembling notion is born, standing on shaky legs, tasting gravity for the first time, wet, ready, open.
February 27, 2006
February 20, 2006
Essence curls
Essence curls about her knowing in a nested spin to
an enlivened center proportioning holy wholes with
effortless abandon. An enraptured witness settles
down into a giggling squiggle of inadequate words.
Where to turn from here? Who will turn with me?
an enlivened center proportioning holy wholes with
effortless abandon. An enraptured witness settles
down into a giggling squiggle of inadequate words.
Where to turn from here? Who will turn with me?
February 18, 2006
re: shaping
Emergent tones rise as music through fluid cells,
orbiting sounds spinning a quiet bliss,
moments of grace reshaping motion’s mind
Gravity's Ample Rain
I am transformed in the beauty of his stillness, an elemental purity rising through a oneness of spirit's unending radiance, an unfolding soulfulness opening through my chest into a soft sadness suspended in my throat. My gaze is intense and complete, my longing bridging the distance between us.
He curls inward taking his ankles in his hands, the soles of his feet balancing the blue of the sky. The white curve of his spine is all I can see, each vertebrae perfectly articulated. We are merged in a straight line of gravity expanding through our physical form, our centers aligned with the core of the planet. A profound and secret knowing fills me with unspeakable joy and love, a vast freedom removing all boundaries.
A frayed rope breaks
and he falls
as water and bone
and silent perfection
upon my heart.
He curls inward taking his ankles in his hands, the soles of his feet balancing the blue of the sky. The white curve of his spine is all I can see, each vertebrae perfectly articulated. We are merged in a straight line of gravity expanding through our physical form, our centers aligned with the core of the planet. A profound and secret knowing fills me with unspeakable joy and love, a vast freedom removing all boundaries.
A frayed rope breaks
and he falls
as water and bone
and silent perfection
upon my heart.
Frozen Music
Pulsing through torso,
collapsing right into story's churn,
a full curving flexion, left behind,
struggles towards completion
Subtle rhythms of frozen music
loop threads of identity and gesture,
charge shocked into memory's magnetic core
repeating yesterday's heat
in dynamics of slow demise
and still
An echoing stillness
resonates through a golden chamber
as a sudden depth of breath
aligning harmonic tones
in nested waves of essential presence
singing life awake
upon a luminous ground
collapsing right into story's churn,
a full curving flexion, left behind,
struggles towards completion
Subtle rhythms of frozen music
loop threads of identity and gesture,
charge shocked into memory's magnetic core
repeating yesterday's heat
in dynamics of slow demise
and still
An echoing stillness
resonates through a golden chamber
as a sudden depth of breath
aligning harmonic tones
in nested waves of essential presence
singing life awake
upon a luminous ground
February 16, 2006
Opening/Awakening
Over at Chris Corrigan's Webl I've been in a conversation found in the comment box of this post. I wanted to dive deeper into a question Chris Weaver asks. . .
is opening space for you an opening practice, and is there a moment for you when this is complete and then awakening space can begin?
This question takes me to a place where language begins to get tangled in nots of knot-knowing. Consider my following expression as this moment’s play of Lila, an attempt to color the clouds with a blue crayon.
I am open space, a boundless dimension of being. For some even/odd reason Thomas keeps forgetting this, apparently preferring to fracture unity into discrete bits of body and mind and sub-personalities and judgments and trauma and pleasure and channeled entities and habitual ways of lacing his shoes. Opening space is a process of remembering, limb by limb, of climbing up the tree to the floating roots of emptiness, returning to source intelligence.
Open space is ever awake. Opening as wakefulness, space generates living structure with a few golden brushstrokes nesting waves in fractal forms of flavor giving voice to the individual notes of a timeless tune. In every breath space gives birth to a universe of complexity seeking an ordered wholeness rising as a vital force of harmonic inclusiveness.
Opening as Awareness I awaken as Presence.
is opening space for you an opening practice, and is there a moment for you when this is complete and then awakening space can begin?
This question takes me to a place where language begins to unfold the hows of my howdy-do-doing. Thanks, Chris. Consider my following expression as this moment’s play of Lila, a doodle intensifying the colors of my world.
In practice, I begin with rituals of opening, usually some sort of repetitive motion: walking circles, stacking stones, tuning tones, spinning cones. It’s a process of listening, quieting into the subtle sensations sparking as patterns in my embodied field, inviting the presence of whatever is to fully speak. Where is the effort? How do I organize my self into habitual geometries of contraction, familiar ways of being, repetitions of comfort, continuity and usefulness?
Listening, deeper now, into more and more subtle sensation. Noticing energetic filaments spiraling through my instrument, pulling, turning, pulsing, orbiting. Curiosity without judgment, a complete willingness to follow my present directionality. One line emerges more clearly than another and I follow the contraction into its polar essence, scanning to release tensions on the periphery of the main squeeze. Fully folded into the limit of this spin I rest in the amplified field of this singular pull. I wait at the bottom of my breath welcoming the submerged desire, the fear, the withheld expression. Who are you? What are you seeking? Do you want to dance or do you want to die?
(I’ll leave the story here for now, fully opened on an emergent edge.)
is opening space for you an opening practice, and is there a moment for you when this is complete and then awakening space can begin?
This question takes me to a place where language begins to get tangled in nots of knot-knowing. Consider my following expression as this moment’s play of Lila, an attempt to color the clouds with a blue crayon.
I am open space, a boundless dimension of being. For some even/odd reason Thomas keeps forgetting this, apparently preferring to fracture unity into discrete bits of body and mind and sub-personalities and judgments and trauma and pleasure and channeled entities and habitual ways of lacing his shoes. Opening space is a process of remembering, limb by limb, of climbing up the tree to the floating roots of emptiness, returning to source intelligence.
Open space is ever awake. Opening as wakefulness, space generates living structure with a few golden brushstrokes nesting waves in fractal forms of flavor giving voice to the individual notes of a timeless tune. In every breath space gives birth to a universe of complexity seeking an ordered wholeness rising as a vital force of harmonic inclusiveness.
Opening as Awareness I awaken as Presence.
is opening space for you an opening practice, and is there a moment for you when this is complete and then awakening space can begin?
This question takes me to a place where language begins to unfold the hows of my howdy-do-doing. Thanks, Chris. Consider my following expression as this moment’s play of Lila, a doodle intensifying the colors of my world.
In practice, I begin with rituals of opening, usually some sort of repetitive motion: walking circles, stacking stones, tuning tones, spinning cones. It’s a process of listening, quieting into the subtle sensations sparking as patterns in my embodied field, inviting the presence of whatever is to fully speak. Where is the effort? How do I organize my self into habitual geometries of contraction, familiar ways of being, repetitions of comfort, continuity and usefulness?
Listening, deeper now, into more and more subtle sensation. Noticing energetic filaments spiraling through my instrument, pulling, turning, pulsing, orbiting. Curiosity without judgment, a complete willingness to follow my present directionality. One line emerges more clearly than another and I follow the contraction into its polar essence, scanning to release tensions on the periphery of the main squeeze. Fully folded into the limit of this spin I rest in the amplified field of this singular pull. I wait at the bottom of my breath welcoming the submerged desire, the fear, the withheld expression. Who are you? What are you seeking? Do you want to dance or do you want to die?
(I’ll leave the story here for now, fully opened on an emergent edge.)
February 14, 2006
February 11, 2006
Span
When you put a thing in order, and give it a name,
and you are all in accord, it becomes. –Navajo saying
February 10, 2006
A Slowful Knowing
What is your experience of knowing? I’m talkin’ the kind of deep, authentic knowing that pulls you into a Vortex of Certainty spinning you right past dizzy into bliss, the quality of knowing that slows time’s turn, expanding (y)our field into a pure, luminous Mind of Essence?
What do you need to know knowing now?
Who knows?
choosing,
thomas
What do you need to know knowing now?
Who knows?
choosing,
thomas
Space Awakens
space awakens
in cascading currents
of vision seeking form
a nested knowing
a blue fire rising
a golden curve
pace embraced,
thomas
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