this unlit Light


another word for ‘God-Life-I’ is Light

but again, this can be a confusing concept
because it’s so easy to think of light
as an external object

know that the Light that the scriptures
claim God to be
and that the mystics praise
is no object that can be seen
with the eye
(although knowingness of IT
definitely lights up the world
with a translucence that is noticeable)

this Light that cannot be seen
yet in which all is seen
is the unlit Light of awareness


once, in the grip of agonizing pain,
I shrieked to the Silent One,
“Finish me off! I can no longer bear it!”

and a light
soft as mother’s milk
entered through the crown of the head
and flowed through the migraine-manacled brain;
it couldn’t be seen
yet it was known

the agony vaporized
and these words were heard:

“. . . and this Light does know all other light as its shadow”


a a a a a h . . . .


from emptiness
to appearance

from sound
to light

from inspiration
to exhalation:




a  a  a  a  a  h  .   .    .     .



About the image:
Tonoscope image of the vowel ‘a’ in sand. The tonoscope was constructed to make the human voice visible without any electronic apparatus as an intermediate link. This yielded the amazing possibility of being able to see the physical image of the vowel, tone or song a human being produced directly.
Hans Jenny called this new area of research cymatics, which comes from the Greek kyma, wave. Cymatics could be translated as the study of how vibrations, in the broad sense, generate and influence patterns, shapes and moving processes.

the great light is silently watching without eyes


last evening, as sheet lightning,
intense, pure, utterly authoritative,
behind closed eyelids


this dawning day, as a thousand dancing rainbow-lights
thrown around the sanctuary
by one small sun-worshiping crystal


yet neither the ‘inner’ lightning nor the
‘outer’ rainbows are the Great Light
spoken of by the sages and scriptures


no, the Great Light
is that which is silently watching without eyes:

unlit and unknowable
primal incandescence


the great light awares it all


in this eternal now-this-here,
immersed in its suchness
where time has yet to be invented
Life experiences Life

one day pain fills the body
next day it’s gone

one moment there’s a story
next it’s retold

one breath is bliss-blessed
next one is stress-blessed

the Great Light awares it all
and sub-merges when sought
for how could IT ever see ITself?


you want peace?


elongated diamonds of trembling light creep towards my flannel-covered feather duvet. the rising sun has left the lillypilly and soars into open cerulean sky.  a golden finger blesses the ballerina blooms on the cactus, another steals into the little enclosed garden and greets the pond, the tiny ferns and mosses, bestowing enough luminescence to last the day.

peace is not a prospect.  it’s the Presence presenting ITself in this now-moment that has no past or future.  you want peace?  just stop seeking it.  just fall into this Presence, this Beloved, that shines forth from every small corner of the world that you create with your blessed unlit light, with your own vast Viewing.


life’s naked beingness


it’s evident, if you look closely,
that the observer is the observed,
the thinker is the thought, and so on
(gratitude to J Krishnamurti for those powerful pointers)

but the person-problem remains:
who is this ‘observer-person’?
who is this ‘thinker-person’?
who is this ‘inquirer-person’?

the dynamics aren’t difficult to grasp
but who grasps?
and who then understands?

my Buddhist friends warn about dispensing with the ‘conventional’ self
but again I ask: who/what is it that dispenses – or doesn’t?

you can get bogged down in this mind-movie for great grey eons
before it loses its box-office appeal

I cast a look sometimes but boredom soon kicks in
while the wonders of unabridged Life never cease to amaze

Life’s naked beingness shines from ITself
upon ITself
and for ITself


a hole in the fabric of the world


a hole opens in the fabric of the familiar world
it’s the size of a soccer ball
within it swirl snakes of pure colour and energy – no
not snakes – snaking swirlings

it is luminous
it has immense depth
it allows itself to be perceived –
somehow, by it-self
for a perceiver isn’t present


first in Winchester, then in Thalheim, then in Hiesville,
then in Wellington, now in Urangan

and ever and only right here, now
in this timeless Presence