Essence of Motion Rotating

Finding stillness in the quiet of night I surrender to the soft sounds and rhythms pulsing through the depths of my being. Moved by an internal animation of subtle sensation spreading from my heart through my core to my limbs I begin to voice an essence of motion rotating gently upon forces of eternity. Cradled in an effortless flow I spin through the Madrona grove and off the high, crumbling bluff. I float west over the bay to the snow covered peaks of the Olympics until a sudden shudder draws me home to the cold, wet ground, to a deep breath, to a quiet acceptance, to a soft tone of knowing.

Stillness

River Rock Buddha

Subtle Centerflow

Up On a Luminous Edge

Solar Nodes

A call to alignment!
A gathering of root gurus
offering blessings of energetic resonance
shapes the devotional tones encircling my furthest reach.

A mandala of great bliss,
a centering intensity of wholeness,
guides intention through sense into action.
Friends of symmetry shine as solar nodes holding soul’s fold.

4 a.m. riverrun

A sensible Middle calls forth and backs up and beyond ego-effort’s ability to sustain his continuing argument. Overlapping tones slide into coherent creativity, a wavering
matrix of light doming nodes of knowing, knowing modes of doing flowing easily as being blue sky eyes.

What’s the point of grasping onto your in-divi-dual lines when it becomes plane and simple to resonate in a centering wholeness of life-guiding intelligence? Empty-fullness torus a part when now replaces then on a luminous fold circling us within. Her-eyes-on events attracting attention to a continuum beyond big bangs and little crunches. . . The density of our ensemble lightens into a gentle touch, soft fingers tracing the contours of a rippling spine. What are the shareable waves sustaining our harmonics?

love,
thomas

Sunday Morning Riverrun

soft limbs branching about the Reach, swaying towards contact with the soft underbelly of knowing flow. who chooses to handle these objects from inside an expanded perspective? a cupped pressure shapes time like dough rolled into balls of white light. little bits from yesterdays are added to the mix, now this, now then, mixed in a ready-to-rise loaf of chewy choice. a nourishing essence of warm bread guides my eye’s rise to a lifted hand.

two questions: what’s next? what nest?

how close are my toes to a luminous edge? a pulsing wave encircles my being as round sound, suspending my sense instrument in a hovering pose 17 feet above the fallen cones, 10.5 feet below cathedral’s crown. patterns of doing form recursive sequences as a wholeness navigator building forms centering a gathering intensity of life’s beauty singing us together. nothing is missing when being circles around as everything.

Spin-eyed depth
two becoming three

Palouse

The river is high and muddy with spring melt. Flattened grasses along the bank point downstream, evidence of last month’s deeper flow. I am in a hidden meadow on the inside curve of a sharp bend. At flood’s peak a month or so ago, water snuck across the bend in a shortcut, leaving channels two to three feet deep, four to five feet across. I’m walking in one of these now, moving to and fro along the soft earth, imagining the spin and splash of water, up one side then the other, finally arriving at a wide, rounded funnel-like depression. I sense the whirlpool of water churning through and begin to spin inward until I come to rest at the bottom. There I stand quietly listening to my sense instrument.

I love this stretch of river, just downslope and a bit east of Paul's house. For a dozen years this has been my second home, a place to create, to heal, to discover. And right here, right now at the center of this vortex in the meadow I feel all the revolutions of my bodysoul, my deep history unfolded in this valley, spinning about my being like a slow moving tornado of images, sensations, insights and intuitions. My arms are stretched out reaching into the bright weather of these many years, gathering a force of experience held in the ponderosa pine and long grass and tangled brush and river island and circling hawk and playful otter and bounding deer and hot dusty road and gentle flowing river and spring wildflowers and ten thousand deep breaths. My heart opens as a resonant tone calling forth my evolution, gathering a spectrum of states in a compressed acceleration. The vortex narrows rapidly spinning wildly about and my cells vibrate spontaneously in a coherent flow of knowing and remembering and gathering all the grace and gravity and goodness I have tasted in this beautiful, beautiful valley. I am weightless, a stillpoint of perfect energy floating above the ground, filling the bowl of this rich curving earth like the late afternoon sun cupped in my hands. A deep, radiant swell of gratitude and acceptance moves through my body, a great heaving integration of Here-Am-I into Who-Might-We-Be, now home again and again, made whole once again.

Thomas

Morning Light

listening to a subtle pull
releasing the 10,000 holdings
allowing a singular direction

following pull’s flow to the gate. . .
waiting at the bottom of a breath. . .
re-releasing all but this single thread. . .

trembling through time’s timbre
coloring deep breaths of waving integration
as devotion to vast relatedness floats us home

weaving luminous threads of relation
opening a soul stream of vivid bonding
encompassing an extended presence
she turns through time’s touch
remembering each spinning limb
each deepening moment

resting without reaching
lifted upon a novel flow
unfolding beauty’s dream

in a gift of grace the sacred nowness of fiveflow’s golden curve softens the grip of chaotic motion charging through my sensefield, loosens the turn, seduces the closed angles open and slowly melts a frozen frequency unfolding a cool nest of sacred symmetry

an inner light of relation,
a rhythmic recursion of radiant splendor
embraces our cellular coherence

life shimmers forth
as beauty’s gift to
you and you and you and i

Peak Orbital Velocity

Sitting here watching the incoming waves. . . Sensing into my upright efforts, listening to gravity's whisper of weight and history and life’s force. I’m somewhere not quite awake and yet the ocean seems real enough. Perhaps I’m tasting the interface between physical and quantum realities, my sense of self tumbling as uncertainty, the spin direction of my electrons orbiting in the external magnetic field, whooshing awake as a coherent (semi?) organism typing at the table of time, ever turning, tuned.

The density matrix of my current state seems to allow for self-organizing perceptions in the sequence of bifurcations leading to the pain in my ribs on this given space-time branch. My velocity parameters seem to be squeezing inward causing currents of confusion and just a hint of anger at how often gravity seems to put the pressure on. Perhaps I’m just on the verge of a dream at 4:28 a.m. and my peak orbital velocity is nearing some galactic halos.

My fondest halos to you and to you also good night.

love,
thomas