Monday, 6 September 2021

The Essence of Reception No.1


The Essence of Reception No.1 - 2021

The slight curve may suggest a stretching out or reaching, only to terminate in an open connection that may either imply turning back upon oneself in an infinite return loop, or an infinite opening to "cancel the reach". This may sound very abstract, and it is—indeed it was my feeling when drawing this form on paper. The following poem was also written at the time of the inception of the form on paper. 

As infinite as space, 
So too is Form*— 
Yet as subtle as presence, 
So too is sensitivity— 
As naturally as a leaf flickering in the wind, 
So moves the mental barrier 
In its blinding transparency— 


 *All form in general 

After discovering the form on paper, I contemplate its origin and meaning, and devise a title, then in an elaboration on this meaning a poem may emerge. In this case the poem sets the ground for the conceptual connection with the title: "Once the mental obstacle has been removed, the pure or open "ground" may receive "insight". This particular form (one of infinite possibilities) suggests a "reaching or seeking" with an element of openness/femininity/negativity essential for this "engagement" or reception of the "insight"."

Tuesday, 31 August 2021

Nature No.1

The engagement of sight,
The silent wonders
That quiver before us—

The fluttering butterfly,
Its sails gaining purchase
On the weight of the atmosphere—

The slow moving slug
Its senses, like ours,
Engaged with the environment,
Its head turning with
Smooth trajectory
And compassionate order—

The fruit tree swelling
With such rapid growth,
Turning water into juice
And shining in the sunlight—

The bumble bee busy
In focused activity,
Unpausing to ponder,
To sit and stare
At the endless sky,
The distant moon,
The light of the stars,
And the ending of time.


Wednesday, 11 August 2021

Thoughts on the World


Thoughts on the world:

The pure present within which all movement plays about is silent amidst the noise, peaceful amidst the chaos. The war-cry is insanity at its most powerful expression and is seen clearly as such only through the eyes of compassion. We hold hands in love and community, ever falling out of violence and into Sanity, Health and Prosperity. We must listen to the angry ones like we would to a hurt child and answer with love instead of hostile reaction. (Clear away wrong-doings of the past and start afresh everyday!) For this reaction is simply more of the same violence. And, this is the cause of perpetuation. This "non-reaction" is the important change in society. Society consists of individuals, so each of us must change and this is how the world is changed — not by trying to control "others" (or ourselves) and manipulate the internal or external system and our surroundings and interior — proper and liberated expression comes later because we don't know how to act properly until we have changed. Before changing (ourselves), our actions will be partial and reactive, causing more conflict. Action is an expression of the core self. If there is peace, love and wholeness at the core, there will be an outward expression and working of the same. So-called "society" is a reflection of our individual selves. 
This change in ourselves will not occur if we attempt to control ourselves, because this is more violence, just directed inwardly. Real change and liberation can only occur when the fundamental way the psyche works is seen actually — not conceptually. This is the important point. We must see ourselves directly, not through the interpretation of comparative (dualistic) thought. Seeing this way is the action which ends in dissolutionary change; and therefore freedom, love and wholeness.

Sunday, 1 August 2021

Self-Inquiry No.1

Self-Inquiry No.1

Carved from a block of air-dried yellow cedar with tight growth rings, the form of Self-Inquiry No.1 reflects the nature and delicacy of the material and craft. The subtle form invites the viewer to peer inwards only to find more space and openness. The irony of self-inquiry is just this. The looker seeks to find oneself, but the self is the looker who cannot possibly see itself (like a sword cutting itself in half). When the self is thought to be perceived, it is actually only a construct through thought. So, our common self-image is this imaginary self. When this ironic fact is grasped by the higher or true self, then there is wholeness and Love. Is this the cosmic joke?

Or is it something?
That empty space,
The vast arena,
The pure silence
And rest—

I look
Yet my eyes are met
With pitch black
And infinite quiet.
But yet, I am,
Not of time,
Nor space,
I am here
And everywhere,
Yet nowhere.


Friday, 30 July 2021

Transient Reflection No.1

Even fleeting moments
Never were
But transient reflections,
Appearing densities,
Only to fade just as easily
In timeless flux—
The moon-cast shadows
Of crooked pine
Dissapear as the shoji screen
Slides open
Revealing the dark night
And endless transformations.

Wednesday, 21 July 2021

The Boundless Nature of Truth No.1

The Boundless Nature of Truth No.1 - 2021



The towering aspen tree,
Its leaves flickering in the breeze—

The mid-day sun light
Shimmering across the rippling water—

The quiet mind,
Unoccupied by events,
Like a crystal,
Reflects the shining
Nature of Truth.


Monday, 19 July 2021

Gesture No. 5


Like shells, skin
Attached but separate
Like all
The colours of motion
Spin and turn in splendour
And yet the unmoved
Watching, being
Involved yet

Thursday, 15 July 2021

The Inclusive Nature of Events No.1

The Inclusive Nature of Events No.1

The wild cry of the child on the beach,
Muted into the atmosphere amidst
The multitude of voices—

The hot sun casting down
Upon umbrellas, bodies, sand,
And sending its glistening glare
off the wavy water in infinite directions—

The "day" is not,
But only this,
This measureless motion,
This endless sky,
This absorbing beauty.


Tuesday, 6 July 2021

The Moment of Reflection - Part 2

As the glowing orange sun
Continues to reveal its fiery existence
The dim yet profound essence
So permeating at dawn
Is filled with warmth and action—

The city morning noises do send waves
And ripples into the infinitely sensitive
Pure waters of life.
The motion thus reflects the physics
Of the immediate environs
And the humility of oneness
Seeps in, in unconditional surrender—

Eyes closed, set aglow by the intensifying sphere
Amidst the world's physique, and with the world's physique
The vast essence of purity remains


The Moment of Reflection No.1

The Moment of Reflection - Part 1

As the cacophonous fragments
Gradually dissolved
There remained the
Pure sea of weightless depth
So clean and clear
Like a trickling brook
Through the jagged granite mountain slope—

Have I dipped my fingers into
The cool waters of the essence of life?
Like the serenity of a calm lake
Reflecting the orange light of the emerging sun
Does this sweet energy permeate
As I bask in it, this invisible and indescribable
Boundless delicacy

The Moment of Reflection No.1

Thursday, 1 July 2021

The Humbling Sun


The humbling sun,
Our earthly mother,
In your sight,
How can wars persist?
Life itself are we
As we hustle about
And sit and pray
For real peace,
A true reflection
Of our fiery source
Of which we are,
Life itself.


Saturday, 26 June 2021

A Hot Day Ahead


Knowing the inevitable outcome,
The gradual accumulation of heat,
As the sun rises up over the mountains—
A sin it would be to fear,
To fail to bask in the light of life,
The one true mother of this
Collection of rocks so special,
But what's so special?,
When all is exactly how it must be,
Ceaseless motion—
The endless musing,
So futile in essence—
With piercing laughter,
At once the quiet chattering
Is not.


Saturday, 19 June 2021

Supplemental Text for Sculpture "Intent to Act No.1"

Intent to act No.1 - 2021

Whilest drawing, I am sitting at the desk (for optimum posture) or in the park or coffee shop inviting inspiration—the success of which is directly dependent on the quality of the mental state—and working within certain structural limitations. A given group of sketches may consist of forms following a variety of directions but are nevertheless related through proximity of time and therefore memory, and due to their parts being of potential relevance to a future consummation, a future form. It is from memory, whether subconscious or conscious, wherefrom the ideas emerge. The ideas come in fragments and my conscious mind along with my pencil is piecing them together in coherent ways. The more the intent to make the forms structurally sound is at the forefront of the mind, the more it interferes with the free flowing exploration. I propose that this free flowing exploration which uses memories for content is fueled by Nature's force which is beyond the body. An indication for the truth of this statment can be found in the fact that the more the mind is occupied with some trivial or practical matter, the less space it has to allow for this extracorporeal energy to flow through it.

In the case of the present piece, Intent to Act No.1, the form emerged on paper and I was intent on making it. However, only after contemplating the name for the piece, did the complete relevance or meaning of the form reveal itself to me. This order of events indicates the significance of the subconscious process of development on paper, in that unless I allow for this Natural energy to flow through, the discovery of an inspired form may not occur. And when an inspired form does appear, it requires another step for me to fully understand it. The title of this piece was inspired by the variety of directional motions involved in this piece and their subtle yet specific relationships toward one another. Further explanation would get complicated so allow a poem to express the meaning at the core level.

The hesitation was there;
The human mind, so complex——

The immediate action
Of the crow or the king fisher——

The greater intervention, however,
Does impart a purifying stream
To trickle through the mind's

The clean stab into water,
The fish firmly clenched,
The bird alike dripping heavily——

Inspired we are to Act,
So swift in movement,
Involved completely
With place and others—

Carrying with our motion,
An opening, an absence,
Neither dictating intent,
Nor sleeping, but awake,

The stillness of a sculpture,
The silent motion therein,
Human abstraction,
Metaphorical expression—

In contemplation,
The abstract reflects
The omnipresent truth,
The never flinching

Sunday, 30 May 2021

The Order of Words and The Heart of Light

Occurs not 
The transformation negativa
Yet, because
It's still the intellect
Why, this intellect
So strong it be
Remains the truth,
Cunning, persuasive,
Story of who?
The knowing beatitude,
Smiling in freedom
Toward we does it glance

O laughing one,
O laughing one!
I feel taunted
But your space,
Endless in expanse,
Does reach thru me,
It does
Irony, so powerful,
Yet subtle,
A soap bubble like,
Yes, a soap bubble like
If words be broken,
Broken be words,
Then what thru shines?
Shines what does thru?
This vast expanse,
It calls,
Voice with not,
Already here.
Yes, here.
Al ready

Wednesday, 26 May 2021

The White-Crowned Sparrow

The bright melodious call
Sat in stark contrast to the
Surprisingly mundane warm greys
The whirlpool of electrostatic
Vibrations tingling the air
With lively song
Remained as always
In clear invisibility
One's penetrating glare and the
Perked ears did entreat strongly
But Nature's want of concession
Remained motionless
In sage-like austerity
As the focus faded softly,
Diffusing gently into the vast arena,
Only the reflection was left—
A translucent memory,
A depthless sheet of wobbling glaze
Standing quiet in feeble fragility
Yet so enduring it be,
Teetering on the edge
Between matter and light
In swift retreat,
The totality of memories were
Left twinkling in crystaline fragments
Like leaves of the aspen,
(Yet devoid of pigment)
Quivering on the verge of disappearance

Falling away, further still,
The specks of shimmering light
Reminded of stars in the
Vastness of space

And at last, the breath
Returned in Life-giving purity
The colours reappeared in 
Their homogeneous delight
Nature's symphony resumed in
Its haunting harmony
And variegated similarity
The inaudible wail
Rang through the cosmos
Sending atoms shivering at the core

Monday, 24 May 2021

Children are Whole No.2


The sunlight broke through
The leaves in a fragmented pattern—
The hefty chuckle
Reverberated through the night air—
The question of "Why?" did arise
So piercingly, so suddenly—
"Why all this chaos? Why!?"
Again, the throaty laughter
Ejaculated in vibrations
Through the damp fog—

"Why is this happening?"
The incessant insanity,
The selfish pursuits,
The utter lack of wholeness—
The night was still and silent
Apart from the occasional
Dripping of condensed fog
Collecting on the colourless leaves—
Suddenly, the horrific roar
Of a 10 year old boy
Skidded through the sky
In an elongated stream
Of terror—
The shaken shrubs
Stood numb in disbelief
As their molecular constitutions
Slowly regained equilibrium—
The memory, though, did remain,
As all memories do,
In the cosmic eye,
The Knower of knowing—
"I hear your cry, young lad,
It has been registered, indeed.
You may not have the words,
But your protest is an honest one—
The injustice which prompted
Such violent outrage
Is mirrored in thee
O, young one—

A mirror you are.
Your service is acknowledged.
But heal you must,
For the greater wicked,
Is yet rampant—

Polish your mirror
And shine your reflection
Of all who pass,
So that they may see
Their true selves
Without distortion or blur—
And if the timing is right,
The memory of their childhood
May too arise, clear and undisturbed.
And they will heal and polish..."

Children are Whole No.1


The flame burns clear
With silent intensity,
Diffusing calcified clumps
Into impotent particles—

Sitting, standing, walking;
Here we are,
Smiling in glory,
Light and peace—

The horrible ideas,
Swirl within the mind
Like putrid mustard gas
Intent on harm and war—

The violence concedes not
To interior borders
And naturally the nations
Are their intensified selves—

The Earth is cracking
Like a dried desert floor,
From aeons of strife and pain—

The Cosmic joke
Permeates space
And matter alike,
And infuses ironic
Humour in sin as well—

The wars will only end
When children born free
See the mistakes of their fathers,
The blindness of their mothers—

Tradition is perpetuation,
Liberation is clarity,
The space to see afresh,
Anew, the beauty of people,
The Love and joy of life—

Empowered children,
Unharmed by the grown,
In Love and wisdom,
May emerge Clear.


Tuesday, 4 May 2021

Behind the Words - Part 3 of 3: Renewed Life

Renewed life—
Our mountain climb, 
No longer tinged
With acidic melancholy
And regretful dread
Of the state of the world,
But with true liberation—
Humankind as one,
Arisen from the shadows
Of blind strife and futile
Swipes, to the quenching
Abandonment of old rags
And infested slime—

Breathing anew—
Our primordial connection,
Now glowing with Life,
Never looking back
To dead memory
And sorrowful prison,
For this too has ceased
To exist. Its power retracted,
Now pulled and pushed
With the wild winds
On desert floors,
It floats around like 
Holy cloth disintegrating
Slowly into particles
So fine, again to dissolve in the great
Ocean of the cosmos.
A return to homogeneity,
Indeed are all condemned
To do. The inevitable end—
What has always been
And which is Now.


Behind the Words - Part 2 of 3: Love Ends Strife

How then can we fight
Each other with eyes closed
And with uninspired fury,
Engage in endless dispute
And battles of horror and rage?—
With insight, so too
Does anger cease,
For the Self is removed
From the robot of evil,
That which was constructed
By it's own nature and material,
The material of thought,
The material of separation.
The arms do drop
In silent surrender.
The Love, not of words,
Not of direction—a vector!,
But of clarity and peace—
Of clarity and peace.
We embrace as friends,
Our global share—
We laugh with Relief,
The first and last Relief.

Behind the Words - Part 1 of 3: That Which We Are

Even behind a condescending smile
Shines the Truth—
Behind the white or yellow teeth,
Behind a fit of insanity,
The rolling and gurgling brook
Swelling fast with heavy rain—
Then the senses are flooded too,
With premeditated propaganda,
Irresponsible or responsible
In design. The power of this media—
So engrossed we dive,
The instinct, magnetic,
We engage in a world of colours
And sound so bright and real—
The words, oh the words,
Abounding thoughts.
The endless waves
And rain does swallow—
Yet who is swallowed?
Not the victim to be sure,
For he is constructed
From these thoughts.
Like teeth eating teeth,
Quite impossible indeed—
Are we the Truth?
Our bright and shining Self?
The Watcher of the storm,
The Be-er of experience,
The Light of darkness—
Belief too gets flushed away
With thoughts,
As the old paint of uncertainty
Flakes off, revealing boundless
Space and timeless commotion—
How ironic! This Pure Absence
Has never been extinguished.        
How could it, when it is
Not material?

We already know,
This first and last truth,
How could we not?
For we are This,
And This is all. 


Friday, 30 April 2021

The Impenetrable Field No.1

Basic Futility!
One rests in
Ironic glee—

The unsought terminus
Is upon one
As the pure stream
Resumes once more
Its unceasing readiness
To flow and heal,
Like Nature's movement
In the birds, the trees,
The wind, sky and sun—

Rest knowing
The Pursuits
Are in vain,
For the impenetrable field,
The Love, is unending and always


The Impenetrable Field No.1 - 2021


Sunday, 11 April 2021

Notes No.1



There is so much awe in a simple flower.
Life is beyond richness—
It's beyond the division
Of "the flower" and "the me".
In the act of looking
The object and subject
Are not, but there is only
The singularity of Act.
The divisive "reality of thoughts"
(The separative beliefs)
Is not the Truth.
It's imaginary, constructed,
When the thoughts quiet,
The beauty flows in.
The beauty of a stranger
Walking along the path,
The beauty of a single falling leaf,
The beauty of a cloud
Moving between the sun
And the looker.
The ugliness of expectations
Allows not room
For sweet appreciation,
Loving gratitude,
And a healthy heart.
There is not anything
Quite as beautiful
As the exchange of smiles
Between two Loving

Tuesday, 23 March 2021

Gesture No.4

Like a beach ball 
Softly bouncing down the stairs—
The quiet descent,
Of objects it did consist,
Yet the motion suggested
A distant field.

The colours revolved
Within the round,
A planar spectacle
From the world of depth—
The faint pulses
Beat out arhythmically
Upon the colliding
The stadium of silence,
The deaf motion
Of a distant cloud
Drifting along
In the open sky.
The colours of the scene
Faded to a homogeneous
A strange combination
Of stillness and motion,
Sound and silence,
Unity of space.

Monday, 15 March 2021

Saturday, 13 March 2021

Gesture No.2

The swirling agreement
With the imagined other—
Only to find unity
Was always there.

Thursday, 11 March 2021

Free Form No. 9

Free Form No. 9

As if time is foreign,
The battle of speed—

But unity pervades all
In concept too—

Behold! Time fades
Into present act.


Thursday, 4 March 2021

The Singular Ground No.1

How far we walk
To arrive still here—

The impenetrable distance,
The immeasurable motion—

The spherical reality
And the cessation of time—

The silent chaos
And the life sharing laughter.


The Singular Ground No.1 - 2021








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Friday, 26 February 2021

Free Form No.8

The loaded words
Serving solely to misguide,
A fantastic journey
Into dream and delusion—
The adventurous ride
Into painted meadows
And high-tech cities,
We fly like Scrooge—
So lucid, so bright,
The words do hint
At facts so rooted
In common ground—
But alas, behold,
The lurking daemon
Behind the garb
Of loosely fitting
Robes and lavish
Yet cheap polyester—
The elusive form
Speaking only in riddles
And haunting tales
Calling forth fancy views
Of transient charm—

The expanding girth
Of one so smart,
The rarefied potency
Incessantly infusing
Its molecular odour
Indiscriminately through—
What a terrible trick!
Yet who's to blame?
For afflicted is all
By this evasive cause—

Hands thrown up!
Sigh light in knowing
Ills perceived
Are just illusion—
For here we sit
In silent being,
Ravished not
By dismal scenes
Of fading fights
And startling news—
The parasitic leech
Is shaken off,
Falling hard
Does wriggle
In drying death
And dusty dissolution—
Until emerging from
The desert ground
One violet pulse
Of pulpy growth—
With this timeless act
Of effortless strength,
The greater field,
The unwavering friend,
Shows its face
In ceaseless presence—
The very bed
Of all delusion.



Saturday, 13 February 2021

Snow Outside


The quiet flurries of snow descended across
The light-blue-tinted-dawn-sky—
Only visible while passing in front
Of dark yet muted evergreens
Standing stoically in the snow.

The chill outside was felt inside
Notwithstanding the sweat-bearing windows
And the trembling heater in service.

Just as the cold was felt within,
So too were past experiences reflected inside,
Their factual intensity diminished over time
And their clarity impeded by the accrual of more.

The seagulls carving through the air from tree to tree,
Swooping and curving in graceful lines,
Were in fact playing in the falling snow.

The intellect of man, clever in its nature,
Serves the self but how dangerous to follow
Its command when not infused by the spring dawn.


Tuesday, 2 February 2021

Looking out onto Space

Looking out onto Space

An unfathomable distance
So conceived

The absolute darkness,
The blindness seen

Alone with a candle
Piercing darkness with light

The boundless chasm
Without reply,

Accepting the glow
In unwanting quiet—

Looking down at my hands
In flickering hues

The truth of the flame,
Its mark it made.

The warmth was felt
By source so near

And eyes rejoiced
At sights so clear.

Still deeper yet
The gratitude lay

The darkness speaking
Not to the ears

But in silent being
Its language conveyed.

Received by same (inside myself)
The pervasive noir—

The inexhaustible field
Of unyielding birth

Without time nor object
Without distance nor wait—

Behold the unfathomable
Bounty of blackness,

Our humble flame,
Without which

Could not live,
Nor so the day

Be born anew
In endless cycles

Of life renewed.


Saturday, 30 January 2021

Non-Local Movement No.1


Non-Local Movement No.1 - 2018


The beauty of movement caught by the silent eye of the observer,
Watching, accepting, allowing, receiving.
In stillness, the eye is open with the fire of attention,
Which burns invisibly leaving the container yet to be filled—
Never filled, always open and empty, receiving
The flowing contents of interrelated parts—
Inconceivable to the discerning system.
The eye is not separate from the vast stream
Entering. The eye breathes with blood,
And in its wholeness, outpours a polar opposite—
Spinning together, intermingling with all other actions
Never ceasing, the cosmic dance of infinite pieces
goes on into the night.
The moonlight is on the gurgling brook.



Sunday, 17 January 2021

Gesture No.1 (short poem)

So delicate, the particular view,
Gazing out the window—

The sounds from inside
Softly yet densely
Rebounding around
In indistinct and distorted
Rings and chimes.


Friday, 8 January 2021

Freeform No.7


The incomprehensible dream
Looses integrity
As Time as we know it
Begins to flicker
"Real, unreal, real..."
In chaotic switch patterns
Complimentary and

As the film wears
From repetition
The noisy breaks
Call out for attention
In its final attempt
To establish its
Thin and flimsy
Existence as the one
And only truth.