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#2258 - Tuesday, September 13, 2005 - Editor: Jerry Katz

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  • Jerry Katz
    #2258 - Tuesday, September 13, 2005 - Editor: Jerry Katz ... This issue features a few poems from TOO INTIMATE FOR WORDS, by John Astin. His website is
    Message 1 of 1 , Sep 14, 2005
      #2258 - Tuesday, September 13, 2005 - Editor: Jerry Katz

      This issue features a few poems from TOO INTIMATE FOR WORDS, by John Astin. His website is http://www.integrativearts.com/
      The book may be ordered at Amazon.com: http://snipurl.com/ho3s. If you like the poems, you'll like the book.



      It takes courage
      to leave behind
      all the stories,
      all the ideologies,
      all the theories,
      and moral edicts,
      to have no place to stand,
      no position to defend,
      or truth to argue about,
      to trust this quiet integrity
      burning in an emptiness
      the mind can never touch.


      ~ ~ ~


      No Escape

      There is no escaping now,
      no leaving this moment
      for some other.
      We are hopelessly trapped
      in this maze,
      caught in the truth
      that there is
      no dry land here -
      everything is wet
      in this Ocean...
      What grace to know this,
      to revel in the ecstasy
      of this sweet bondage
      that is our liberation.


      ~ ~ ~


      The Sense of Separation

      "Rise above the separate self." "Transcend the ego." When we listen to such statements, what usually happens is that we enter into a kind of subtle (or not so subtle) struggle with this sense of separation. We resist the "I," wish it wasn't there, try to make it go away. But any attempt to make the separate self-sense disappear, simply reinforces the very thing we're trying to free ourselves from. It's analogous to meditation where our efforts to try and quiet the thinking process merely serve to create more waves. The thought, "There shouldn't be thought," is simply more thinking. Thought fighting thought. The result? More waves.

      So it is with our relationship to the self, this sense of there being a personal "I." Our resistance to it simply reinforces the illusion that there is actually something there (a self) to be gotten rid of. Struggling with the sense of "I" only creates more separation, more division.

      The paradox is that only through our absolute acceptance of the separate self-sense will we wake up from the dream of separation.


      ~ ~ ~


       Just This

      What if this was it? What if it could never get any better than this moment, just as it is? Is that a depressing thought? I guess it could be. But just let yourself consider it deeply for a moment. Who knows, you might just fall in love with your life.


      ~ ~ ~



      How does it feel
      to be out of a job?
      Nothing you can do
      to improve upon this moment,
      or quiet what is already silent.
      Nothing you can do
      to bring yourself
      closer to what
      you already are.
      Nothing you can do
      to keep the waves of life
      from dancing and changing.
      Nothing you can do
      to open what has never been closed.
      Nothing you can do
      to brighten this awareness,
      already ablaze with the light
      of a million suns.
      Nothing you can do.
      Nothing you can do...


      ~ ~ ~


      What Will It Take?

      Do we really need more proof?
      Another taste of joy,
      Another glimpse of Truth,
      Another experience of this, that
      Or the other thing?
      What will it take,
      Before we finally stop and accept
      That it is over, that this empty cup
      Has always been full?
      How many more experiences
      Before we realize
      That we could never have more
      Of what we already are?

      In a flash of insight
      I wake to this knowing
      To This that knows…
      “It is so obvious. Nothing is needed
      Because there is only
      This that I am, the
      Substance of all things.
      Like a wave it crashes over me,
      This simple knowing that
      I could never really add anything
      To that which is already Everything…

      But then, like a punch drunk boxer
      I drag myself up and
      Set out again on my search
      Determined to find some more proof.
      “More evidence,” I cry.
      That is what I need,”
      Never quite believing
      It could be so simple…
      And then, another wave comes
      And I am slammed to the ground again,
      Waking once more from this dream
      To find I was never asleep
      Laughing at this folly
      Of trying to find the very One
      Who has been looking all along…

      ©2004 John Astin

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