Guest guest Posted September 1, 2009 Report Share Posted September 1, 2009 SELF INQUIRY Hear this, comprehend clearly as transparent air! I'm not what I think or imagine that I am; I'm aware like a cat stalking his fare, I'm aware I'm not this body, earthy pot of red blooded jam, Nor mind, mere mechanical word secreting machine, Or a 'me' who peeps from behind a measly mince meat ball, A dreamer, deluded by pics which flick across my screen Of Consciousness, an empty space for 'what is' to fall, So I leave this torrid, troubled toxic world alone. Where is the rightful place in 'who I really am?' An illusive surface, a shimmer, why mourn or moan About this sandy desert with its camel caravan? Drug induced visions like Kubla Khan or Avalone, Emanate from mind, like mists, when hot breath hits cold air. There's no time, a clockwork convenience conceived by man, Space and causality are concepts in the errant brain, No substance, but atoms dancing in an aeon's span, No mind, a measuring tape, used on this dreamer's train. No good or evil, right or wrong, fashions of an Age, Only a birds nest of thoughts, it's best left to lose. " Nothing perceived or conceived is Real " says my Sage, " You're not what you seem to be and no one to choose. So called choice is illusion in the predestined plan, Free will's only apparent, and ego's pride we use To usurp Divine Will as mine; that's the sin of Man. There's nothing, in Truth, for anyone to will or decide, Know 'That', and be happy, end all thoughts of suicide. I am eternal, as Consciousness, I am 'That', Beyond concepts of Holy Father or Mother's balm. Truth is heard by those who at the feet of Sages sat. Remember the verse in King David's favoured psalm, 'Be still and know that I Am God' stay silent and calm. Words are erudite, the real point they always miss, The Holy Aim is beyond comprehension, I repeat, The veil that conceals the source of speech is remiss The other side of knowing is silence, peace replete. When in mind, I think this world isn't a dream but real, I feel separate from my Source, yet know all is well, Unfolding precisely as it must; I trust and feel No need to bargain with God, as far as I can tell, All's well each moment, I know 'That' so I let all heal. Nothing exists, not even these thoughts, they're a thorn To remove thorns; in Truth there is no thing at all. I rest, desiring nothing, I am thus unborn, Empty to be Pure Self Awareness, for peace may fall. My reason has been jolted, shaken to its inmost core, By my wildly strange adventures, uniquely so bizarre; Who am I? to be feeling there's no 'me'? shout hurrah! I seem to be, intuition, that's flooding through the door, Drowning my brain and sense perceptions, near and far. Is there anyone here? Is Awareness my real identity? Then thoughts broke in and ended my earnest Self Inquiry. I'm moved again to play the sportive game of life, Merrily dancing to circumstances piped by drum and fife. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted September 1, 2009 Report Share Posted September 1, 2009 this one really says it ALL thank Alan... Alan Jacobs <alanadamsjacobs Sent: Tuesday, September 1, 2009 8:19:48 AM SELF INQUIRY SELF INQUIRYHear this, comprehend clearly as transparent air!I'm not what I think or imagine that I am;I'm aware like a cat stalking his fare, I'm awareI'm not this body, earthy pot of red blooded jam,Nor mind, mere mechanical word secreting machine,Or a 'me' who peeps from behind a measly mince meat ball,A dreamer, deluded by pics which flick across my screenOf Consciousness, an empty space for 'what is' to fall,So I leave this torrid, troubled toxic world alone.Where is the rightful place in 'who I really am?'An illusive surface, a shimmer, why mourn or moanAbout this sandy desert with its camel caravan?Drug induced visions like Kubla Khan or Avalone,Emanate from mind, like mists, when hot breath hits cold air.There's no time, a clockwork convenience conceived by man,Space and causality are concepts in the errant brain,No substance, but atoms dancing in an aeon's span,No mind, a measuring tape, used on this dreamer's train.No good or evil, right or wrong, fashions of an Age,Only a birds nest of thoughts, it's best left to lose."Nothing perceived or conceived is Real" says my Sage,"You're not what you seem to be and no one to choose.So called choice is illusion in the predestined plan,Free will's only apparent, and ego's pride we useTo usurp Divine Will as mine; that's the sin of Man. There's nothing, in Truth, for anyone to will or decide,Know 'That', and be happy, end all thoughts of suicide.I am eternal, as Consciousness, I am 'That',Beyond concepts of Holy Father or Mother's balm.Truth is heard by those who at the feet of Sages sat.Remember the verse in King David's favoured psalm,'Be still and know that I Am God' stay silent and calm.Words are erudite, the real point they always miss,The Holy Aim is beyond comprehension, I repeat,The veil that conceals the source of speech is remissThe other side of knowing is silence, peace replete.When in mind, I think this world isn't a dream but real,I feel separate from my Source, yet know all is well,Unfolding precisely as it must; I trust and feelNo need to bargain with God, as far as I can tell,All's well each moment, I know 'That' so I let all heal.Nothing exists, not even these thoughts, they're a thornTo remove thorns; in Truth there is no thing at all.I rest, desiring nothing, I am thus unborn,Empty to be Pure Self Awareness, for peace may fall.My reason has been jolted, shaken to its inmost core,By my wildly strange adventures, uniquely so bizarre;Who am I? to be feeling there's no 'me'? shout hurrah!I seem to be, intuition, that's flooding through the door,Drowning my brain and sense perceptions, near and far.Is there anyone here? Is Awareness my real identity?Then thoughts broke in and ended my earnest Self Inquiry.I'm moved again to play the sportive game of life,Merrily dancing to circumstances piped by drum and fife. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted September 2, 2009 Report Share Posted September 2, 2009 ---- Original message ---- >Date: Tue, 1 Sep 2009 11:56:20 -0700 (PDT) > Rafe Stoneman <rafaelstoneman >Subject: Re: SELF INQUIRY >To: > > > > this one really says it ALL > thank Alan... > > --------------- > > Alan Jacobs <alanadamsjacobs > > Tuesday, September 1, 2009 8:19:48 AM > SELF INQUIRY > > > SELF INQUIRY > > Hear this, comprehend clearly as transparent air! > I'm not what I think or imagine that I am; > I'm aware like a cat stalking his fare, I'm aware > I'm not this body, earthy pot of red blooded jam, > Nor mind, mere mechanical word secreting machine, > Or a 'me' who peeps from behind a measly mince meat > ball, > A dreamer, deluded by pics which flick across my > screen > Of Consciousness, an empty space for 'what is' to > fall, > So I leave this torrid, troubled toxic world alone. > > Where is the rightful place in 'who I really am?' > An illusive surface, a shimmer, why mourn or moan > About this sandy desert with its camel caravan? > Drug induced visions like Kubla Khan or Avalone, > Emanate from mind, like mists, when hot breath hits > cold air. > There's no time, a clockwork convenience conceived > by man, > Space and causality are concepts in the errant > brain, > No substance, but atoms dancing in an aeon's span, > No mind, a measuring tape, used on this dreamer's > train. > > No good or evil, right or wrong, fashions of an Age, > Only a birds nest of thoughts, it's best left to > lose. > " Nothing perceived or conceived is Real " says my > Sage, > " You're not what you seem to be and no one to > choose. > So called choice is illusion in the predestined > plan, > Free will's only apparent, and ego's pride we use > To usurp Divine Will as mine; that's the sin of Man. > There's nothing, in Truth, for anyone to will or > decide, > Know 'That', and be happy, end all thoughts of > suicide. > > I am eternal, as Consciousness, I am 'That', > Beyond concepts of Holy Father or Mother's balm. > Truth is heard by those who at the feet of Sages > sat. > Remember the verse in King David's favoured psalm, > 'Be still and know that I Am God' stay silent and > calm. > Words are erudite, the real point they always miss, > The Holy Aim is beyond comprehension, I repeat, > The veil that conceals the source of speech is > remiss > The other side of knowing is silence, peace replete. > > When in mind, I think this world isn't a dream but > real, > I feel separate from my Source, yet know all is > well, > Unfolding precisely as it must; I trust and feel > No need to bargain with God, as far as I can tell, > All's well each moment, I know 'That' so I let all > heal. > Nothing exists, not even these thoughts, they're a > thorn > To remove thorns; in Truth there is no thing at all. > I rest, desiring nothing, I am thus unborn, > Empty to be Pure Self Awareness, for peace may fall. > > My reason has been jolted, shaken to its inmost > core, > By my wildly strange adventures, uniquely so > bizarre; > Who am I? to be feeling there's no 'me'? shout > hurrah! > I seem to be, intuition, that's flooding through the > door, > Drowning my brain and sense perceptions, near and > far. > Is there anyone here? Is Awareness my real identity? > Then thoughts broke in and ended my earnest Self > Inquiry. > I'm moved again to play the sportive game of life, > Merrily dancing to circumstances piped by drum and > fife. > oh yes. our friend alan is a flute... the flute the poet is like a flute shaping the breath into a melody true poet shapes his life into a breath of the divine. . . hollow from self touched by intuition life breath becomes a tune in the symphony of being when you read/hear a poem and it touches your heart it is because you yourself are the endless poem of life and the flute inert in the flutist hands cooled by the passing breath caressed by the loving fingers cares not for the sound produced in gratitude, _()_ yosy Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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