After watching Bob Dylan in concert in the 60's a professional 

musician said, He articulated what the rest of us wanted to say, but 

couldn't say. It was not necessary for him to be a definitive person, 

he was possessed. What does it mean to be possessed? Is it to be 

possessed by pure reality itself and thereby to be free of all 

definitions? I say it is.

Is it necessary for you or me to be definitive? Definitions are like 

clothing for the mind. Underneath, naked, are we possessed by 

reality, like Bob? I say we are. How many are left undefined? These 

are the real human beings, the undefined ones among us. Only they 

have anything real to say and if they speak it is our duty to listen to 

them.

I say that the chief characteristic of a very young person that 

separates the youth from adults is the absence of definitions in the 

child. Honesty. Integrity. Nobility. Humility. All of this is undefined 

original stuff. It is the stuff of a naked mind. None of it can be 

taught.  It is definitions that are taught and they are false. For what 

is a definition but a lie? To even think of yourself as an adult is to 

lie. 

To even think of yourself as a parent is a lie. To even think of 

yourself as carrying a career tag is a lie. To even think of yourself 

as American or British or Russian or Japanese is a lie. To even 

think of yourself as Buddhist or Hindu or Christian or Muslim or 

Jewish is a lie.

ANY 'OL RAINCLOUD

If I see a bird in flight, and imagine it to be free, what is it about me that is being shown that I might see if I but had the eyes to see? Bob Dylan asked when a boy, “Are birds free from the chains of the skyway?” (Ballad in Plain D)

I want to see like that.

What person sees something else as “free”?

Someone who is searching for it?

Who searches for freedom?

Is it a free person or a slave who searches for it?

Come on, you know.

Ask yourself this:

If I work a job that does not resound with the chimes of my soul and see a man with a better job who looks happy to me what all does it tell you about me? Are you following along?

Ask, then, this question of yourself:

If you have a wife or husband that disapproves of you and you see a couple who look like they are in love and happy about it, what does it tell about you? About the quality of your vision? Needs a correction, I think?

I have been trying to tell of something that cannot be grasped; so, why have I bothered you with that at all? Do you wonder even? Or, do you know already?

Who grasps for something but the one who does not have what it is he/she wants?

If I am not happy, and know it, and someone tells me of a guru who is happy and I search for the guru who is happy in the hope he will tell me how to be happy what am I showing myself?

It occurs to me, and thus I am moved to write this down, that any search means I believe my own Creator to be inept or foolish.

There is only one thing I would wish for another: that, that person not miss the grand obvious.

Like the hole in a donut; there is a dark hole of the soul that is alien to one's thought patterns. What are our thought patterns except dreaded concern for some respectable way of life to bring us success and hoped-for joy?

The saddest cry comes from down in the belly all day and all night from a place we dread falling into. The “Falling -In Place” is where a lost person is found, but, by none other...

I once sat on a rock in the desert mountains and prayed to be free. My own voice asked, “Are you not free?

My own voice, I tell you!

On Love

Love has oppressed me. Love has forced me away. Love has hidden itself from me. Love has denied itself to me. Love has refused my touch. Love has made a fool of me. But love saved my life, and for no reason I can think of, and when I did not want to go on living, gave life back to me and showed me I can enjoy one. Then left. So, why do I keep dropping everything to chase after her? Oh, I see, my, love is a mirror!

We came from the wilderness ourselves as wild as all the rest of it. And our presence today makes it clear we were clever and adept. Something of the wilderness, a fragment perhaps, remains inside us. One never ceases entirely to be wild even in slippers in front of a tv screen. All fear is false.

My love has always kept her promise.

“Never, she said, "tell anyone what I tell you now, but, I will never be true. There. Now you have it. I am made that way. You will have to be true to me if you like. In fact, that is why I am pretty. I cannot be true so I am pretty. I am here so you have something to be true about. You may write me poetry. All fear is false.

When I say I am never going to be true,” she said, “I mean that my nature is loyalty itself so being true is without form and void. Everybody is true to something. I am. It is no big deal. Be selective is all. Never mind. And all fear is false.”

Love is void. Formless and void. And real. A real tyrant. Love is God.

Love has oppressed me. Love has forced me away. Love has hidden itself from me. Love has denied itself to me. Love has refused my touch. Love has made a fool of me. But love saved my life, and for no reason I can think of, and when I did not want to go on living, gave life back to me and showed me I can enjoy one. Then left. So, why do I keep dropping everything to chase after her? Oh, I see, my, love is a mirror!

THE FRIGHTENED GODS

In 2002 The Oakland A's did what seemed impossible. With a budget among the lowest in the big leagues they put together a winning team based on the notion that there were enough underrated players out there to do so that won 20 straight games, breaking the American league record that had stood for over a hundred years. A book and a movie called Money Ball tell the story of just how ignorant modern baseball had gotten. What is the real story is that money driven enterprises are always going to leave the best of the human race on the sidelines.

money driven enterprises are always going to leave the best of the human race on the sidelines.

And, friends, the system in place today is pure money driven greed. If not remodeled soon, it is going to sink like the Titanic, fold in upon itself in utter disgrace. Eight short years ago it was the banking industry that had to be bailed out to the tune of seven trillion dollars. This time it is probably going to be the bloated, over-stuffed, outlandish medical- pharmaceutical- insurance fraud perpetrated by the severely mentally ill that will be exposed when nobody can pay the bills. Lights out. Just how many times can we bail out the blind pigs and then follow them again? The insurance crowd is selling immortality insurance. Temporarily, the docs will be very busy and very rich...and then...what? What is the limit? Can anybody guess? How long will you play their unworthy game of nonsense?

What men call performance is living. What men call living is performance...going merely through the motions awaiting death. So, PERFORM, O, Ye Gods! Arise! Arise! (Join no movement, wear no garb of outer dignity relying entirely upon the integrity you came here as and do not ask anybody what to do first for only you know that.) Do that and you never need ask anyone what is your job here ever again. 

A hundred million flaws as arranged by love is beauty.

So, what is love?

A worm hole by which one can bypass misery?

A river I can travel through life time(s)?