clamorous sea-speak this morning
for one who grew up amongst the coastal cliffs
the tussock-crowned dunes
the tidal pools
the crashing surf and wild symphonic joy
of the ocean inexplicably called Pacific
“there’s bound to be a salt-wave forever lapping in the heart”
she-who-scribbles loves water;
inescapable conditioning of the cells
well, ‘I’ has no preferences
and that means It embraces everything:
incomparably perfect Love!
So, here I am this soft mellow morning with a persistent itch on the brain. It tells me I should have been more … patient … understanding … tolerant … in the family encounter of yesterday.
It’s closely followed by another itch that tells me my behavior was … direct … honest … overdue.
Then something that doesn’t feel itchy in the slightest says “There’s the mirror old girl. Take a look.”
“Bad bitch, good bitch – is LOOKING-KNOWINGNESS affected by these arguing itches?”
The itching bitching wags its tail. What a good game! Toss me another story to tear up!
pain, pain, pain
perception grabs pain –
above ear, left side of head
conceptualization grabs pain –
sharp, irregular, might be telling me something…
awareing views pain –
without label, placement, explanation or conclusion:
sensation, energetic, shimmering, wondrous
in this naked knowingness
pain simply is …
my whistling neighbor wakes me at dawn
and sleep has only just arrived!
what’s going on?
“oceanic silence is being penetrated by the knowing of something called whistling”
“does Awareness give a toss whether it’s oceanic silence or tuneless whistling it’s aware-ing?”