2024
Leaving footprints in the snow
Where only
birds and deer step
I am part of this world
This place of no place
Where uniqueness
converges into pure essence of being
I’ve been given the tools to clear the
land and dig myself deep into
the Earth-
and the patience to watch my roots grow
strong and weathered
But everytime I lie down in the soil it’s
like trying to go to sleep
with my feet
sticking out from under the blankets
shoveling the dirt
over my head feels wonderful
until I start itching and sprouting and
some vital part of me shoots out like
a zombie’s hand and pulls me from
the grave
It seems
I am helplessly addicted to self-uprooting.
Planting
a seed and ripping it out of the
Earth a day or two later
like a little
kid’s science experiment-
Teacher says give it time
And little kid pouts
but listens
I pout but drop out of college
and tell everyone in town that I’ve
found
a magic bean stalk which will carry us all up to heaven.
Occasionally, I say this with conviction.
And by the way,
You can tell I
am lying by the smoke that
escapes a clenched grin-
and in my nihilist
fingers,
The loose swagger of self-deprecation
stubbing it out in
disgust.
Overconfidence is a signal of my emaciated ego
And nothing hurts
better than burn-out.
That’s why I make my bed in the morning
and change into warm clothes
at night
and pray I wake up somehow different.
That’s why, when I gaze
up at the priest
from underneath the floorboards I forget
which one of
us is on acid. Because,
Self-uprooting is a double-blind study between
myself now and myself
three seconds ago-
and I know a journalist in Boston who says
the
commitment will pay for our indulgences
down the line.
But I was light, I was arrogance. I read On the Road on the
subway itching to smoke something as soon as I tasted air again. Pour
the stars on my shirt like burnt coffee - that’s what this subway is
like. Eye contact, what a bitter line of poetry! The moment trickles
down my back. I remember lights in the sky. Would it always be
off
at 33rd street?
I dropped off a note for the cellist in the marble dungeon of Grand Central Station. It said: “You got IT!" because it felt like he had it - at least for a moment. It was more obvious in the faces of the crowd, who were almost drooling in their captivation - the cellist, however, noticed me scrawling on the scrap of paper, debating how best to gently express what I really felt like doing - whooping and hollering O Hallelujah sweet lord and shouting this is IT! This is IT! Can’t you see him go? Heartbroken, absorbed, all of it came across his sullen bow, his mourning fingers. I decided on what to say (knowing, of course, that it could never convey anything. Talking about it is like dancing about architecture, if you know what I mean). I dropped the folded note into the open cello case like a bandit. It fell alongside a few scattered dollars and a printout of a QR code - it landed gracefully. So I
turned and skipped away like
a deer on the roadside to track
18, back
North again, back to my own
drunken captivation…
Okay, it's been a good 24 hours
now I can admit that upon looking
closely into a mirror, and standing on one
leg, with my foot on my thigh - I noticed
the shape of a monkey in the center of my
forehead, playing with my hair.
Then it became an eye. Slightly larger
than my other two, and a little higher up
than I had expected it to be. Up and
to the left on infinite series of slightly
offset and overlapping duplicates drifted upwards
light smoke. All my senses were perfectly
still.
-concentration, for a moment
Before a thought comes in and
says "Wow. This is happening"
and the eye dissapeared.
I can re-focus.
recenter and there it appears again
within a few breaths. thoughts
return, and I fight off an emaciated
ego, a primal fear of dissolution
but I know this fear is based
on lies
So I know things are rough but
turbulence shapes the pearl
I dove for and covers it up
with trash and I gape for
breath between transluscent,
clear,
More trash to collect ruin.
and stuff in my pockets and
they are not filled with love but
with chemicals and it's called
"spiritual materialism" will it
go well with my "spiritual psychosis"?
there you've gone and done it
well let it through the gate so I
may fight on my feet and
face who I am which includes
my thoughts until I am ready
to see how they are not
they are not
they are not
12/20/23
Things I've learned
-Bring extra socks
-Maybe a wire scraper or something to clean dishes
-Utensils
-Scope out the area before trudging through the thickets
-take your time
This fire is Ram, the wood I throw into the fire is Ram, the tea I am brewing is Ram, my desire for the tea I am brewing is Ram,
everything is Ram and everyone knows everything. The water is boiling !
12/22/23
I sing about me
Atha yoganusasanam yogas citta vrtti nirodah
Now the exposition of yoga is being made
The restraint of the modifications of the mind stuff is yoga
Now... the exposition
is it always the beginning?
we begin to restrain the mind
to tame it... for whom?
Nature controls the mind
Desire controls the mind
Awareness controls the mind
Will the mind always be controlled by something?
Is freedom freedom of the mind or identification with it?
Is the mind always a prison?
Tarrywile
Trying to think of Haikus I thought
up while walking through the snow
this morning at Tarrywile, it's like
those words only exist by the stream
with the sun reflecting in such a way
in such a moment of time there it was
and then it went but I'll try to replicate
one or two:
Leaving footprints in the snow
Where only birds and deer step
I am part of this world
Watching my boots make foot prints
in the snow
Where only birds and deer step
Scenery unfolds
Desire is the universe
Desirelessness is Moksha
Desire is manifested creation
Desirelessness is the end of everything
The end of what has never begun
The beginning of dissolution
Everywhere I seem to go
it seems
that everyone is in the same place as
I am
And it seems
This is the place of no place
Where uniqueness converges into
Pure essence of being
This Place of No Place
Sprinting through the flaky city wild-eyed and wiping off the hail that stuck to my cheeks we
crashed through workmen and guys carrying cardboard and guys smoking cigarettes between
carrying more cardboard. We took the steps like long-jumpers and only almost fell on our faces
as we, ghouls, furious, deliberately ignored two policemen accosting a man with a blanket and
a jutting lower lip grumbling and maybe afraid and then passing a smiling Buddha hitting a
drum and his lips passed to mine and I’m singing “Hare Krishna Hare Krishna Krishna Krishna
Hare Hare Hare Rama Hare Rama Rama Rama Hare Hare” and there’s a woman and an infant
begging for mercy and there’s a preacher condemning us all to hell. We made it to the cross-
town shuttle flinching and itchy and I know we’ll make it cause I’m still singing Hare Krishna
Hare Krishna… I noticed myself in the reflection of the subway and starting to catch, on I said,
“I’m in a universe of my own creation” and now I say, “I am in a universe of my own desires,”
but I really don’t like philosophy because it’s rigid, structured, like any idea, and it’s
blasphemous when I’m free and laughter transcends it all anyway. But here on the train now I
start to think I’m stuck until I see the white snow on the trees outside the window and I no
longer have the words to finish this thought.
This Morning
I’d like to write about this morning but I can’t even remember who I was then because I am
older now and do not know who I was even five seconds ago. In this I discover that what’s
happened and what’s been going on and even what will happen next or way down the line is
compressed into one amalgamated present. I can tell you about making pancakes this
morning, waking up early from a strange dream, wandering the house barefoot and recollecting
myself through cold feet - if I did, I’d be telling it from a frame of reference of who I am and
what I believe right now. Of course what this signifies is that since the universe is a
manifestation of my own mind, then the past and present are entirely imaginary because I am
always a’changin’ like these brisk and fleeting seasons. It’s those frames of references that
keep us stuck in modes of thinking like I wish-es and I should’ve-s and missing who we used to
be or even striving for change. All that is another misguided groping for the eternal that is only
admitted through total absolute acceptance of who we are and what’s going on Here and Now.
It’s helpful to stare deeply into an open river or empty sky or deep way into the horizon from a
snowy mountain peak cause there are no models out there, no boundaries expositions
beginnings middles or ends. It’s looking deeply into that which is within us and is us. That
empty space that deludes comprehension, that eludes an explanation. This space of absolute
unforgiving unexplainable is the space that fills our insides with richness and possibility. If only
we can see it, notice it, even theorize on it we can make the inference that it exists forever and
forever - it’s only our eyes that see and our ears that hear and the other less obvious senses
that make us forget what’s really the seer and what’s really the seen. The Tao Te Ching says
“Hold onto the center” and that’s all we need to do - just hold it, gently, gently, just hold it like a
baby.
Now to the snowy mountains with my friends and all I carry with me - now to leave what I can
in the trees so I may walk light-hearted and free. Now to see it all dissolve in the vastness.
This Evening
I ask
Is everybody scribbling down
Something pitiful and honest
trying to describe what they lost
and what they hope to never gain?
I reach
Into the world and find I don’t even
own these hands
And frantically looking around
to find something that I cannot see
with my eyes
That I’ll never be able to describe
So hanging my head I walk
Back to my car
And start playing songs I always knew
were false
Turning it off
And basking in the nothing
of insects cricking, tires on
pavement far away
occasional lights
And timid new beginnings
Which are never quite true
Cause I always look over my shoulder
When the end credits roll
And the car pulls out of presence
And headlights in the night
illuminate reality - just more things
falling down white fences painted years
ago
a bird in there wind
Silhouette of a mountain
Things I see but never own for more
Than five minutes
So what is it that I know?
Falling, for one thing
And how to breathe calmly through the waves.
A big decision
I decided to stay, out of respect for the great Indifference of the world - an indifference
that actually opposes resistance, as I have come to learn.
Now I’m standing here looking at the accomplishment of all my deepest dreams. What
should I feel? I never doubted myself for a second - no struggle, no reward. I am
absolutely unimpressed - and perfectly content.
A sage said
At the beginning of the spiritual journey
one's faith is a small planted tree
and requires a small fence to be
put around it for protection to
build our roots - we need to
keep ourselves attentive and
take care of ourselves until the
tree grows big enough that not
an elephant could push you downn- And
you may even be able to provide shade
for others on the path.
Tossing and turning the sweet nauseas of life - delicious dance! Sadly watching the play and
waiting for death - that sweet embrace of womb's bliss. And with this thought in mind, just trying to live straight
and do some good here and there until peace comes, suddenly, suddenly, and we won't even understand it when it does. Maharj-ji said
"everything will be fine" and Kerouac said "...forever and forever"
Let go of your personal history.
-says Don Quixote or someone
Desire is the creator
Desirelessness is Moksha
Peace comes suddenly and we
won't even understand it when it
does.
Gunas are for experience and liberation
of the purusa
Whatever you heard is what you were
able and ready to hear and
exists for your personal liberation.
Going bigger
everything you've ever experienced has been and will be for the purpose of you're liberation until you're no longer the experiencer
Gets interesting figure this out
breaks our minds in a river
We can't accept something awful as
for liberation - karma - whatever
and that's the cha;;enge this sutra
offers us
Balancing being human and suffering with the idea that everything is perfect.
Can we accept our past, all we've suffered and suffering, we've caused as absolutely perfect
for our growth and liberation?
Doesn't matter - Patanjali says that's how it is, trust
it. Take a leap of faith
And we're done experiencing
We become as the bird leaving no trace in the sky
the sage in the forest.
Then it becomes a play
a dance
all for liberation, all
devotional
The sage
his son died and the disciples asked:
Why are you crying?
You know it is all Maya
the illusion?
He repied this is the greatest
illusion of all
(8 of wands upside down)
Another plan
Be here now
Buy sahil's van and go on tour
visit henry and play shows in GA
work outside somewhere
get a job as yoga teacher
Be here now.
Start up students for palestine and yoga club
enjoy pure essence of being
Be here now
Let things be as they are with no
graspings for the future
Live w/ ronin dan and zach
learn self-discipline
accept the fact that here and now is all there is
Ahh... Hum!
Aum mani padme hum
Don't forget to do things you love and face challenges head on.
Remember to balance.
Thoughts on muscle memory
This is my refutation of the concept of muscle memory. Muscle memory and the repitition of practice required to enable it,
is a form of unconscious performance. Yes, my fingers are playing the piece, not me, so my ego is safely out of the way.
However, my goal with music is to use it to come into a more fully conscious place of being. So while muscle memory does
remove my ego from the scene, it's also throwing the baby out with the bathwater. I've lost the joy that comes with
performing consciously, not with the ego but with the heart. I prefer to play from the heart.
2/16/24 - Going to Boston
Why does every Hoboken couple on the 126 bus to NY look like they hate each other?
I just learned a whole bunch about patch bays and my mind is spinning. There's a woman knitting across from me. What woes will I gather
between here and Boston?
3 states and 6 hours to go.
3 states and 6 hours to go
nowhere
3 states and 6 hours to
continue quieting the mind
and opening the heart.
And in 6 hours, I'll continue
to quiet the mind
and open the heart
Aum mani padme hum
Aum mani padme hum
How many times have I written these words on a bus or a train? Enough times to know I still don't know what they mean. And never will
For who knows what? I am
This I know
This, I don't
and I come to see it all as an INFINITE SPIRITUAL REGRESSION
I am separated from knowing by a hair's breadth
A hair
A hair... I keep cutting it in hald and the hairs double!
Quiet the mind
And keep returning to the center
He waited for me to get over my self-doubt and my pride all at once. my thinking I knew the answers and my fears to ask a question.
Once I shook it off - by His grace, by His patience, by His love, -
I heard Him
I am always with you.
And this too. And this too.
Is it you now?
Laughter, laughter, laughter.
Was it you then?
Laughter, laughter, laughter.
Will I ever see you?
I am always with you.
And this too.
Embrace it all. And this too. And this too.
A quick aside while I type this up in Sep. 2025: I can still hear his giggle.
Also,
Ramakrishna said you cannot fall off the path but you can falter (stagnate)
Stay vigilant
Stay focused
Instructions:
Activate the root chakra
Open the throat chakra
Widen the heart
Some time passed...
Recital intro
Music is a wonderful meditation. When you listen
to music, you allow a doorway to open between your heart and the universe of sound.
You allow the vibrations of a unique source emanating from a unique time and place to become a part of you.
And when you're listening - just listening - we exist together, here, in this shared experience of sound where the
source and the receiver become One. Just listening, there is no past or future, those ideas simply melt away into what the
Radiance Sutras call "the vivid reality of this moment, at play, beckoning". So, I invite you to
join me in allowing our hearts to be open, and together, simply listening. The light in me sees and honors the light in you. Namaste.
It's been a while since I had a chance to sit down and write a song. I've spent the past who knows how long thinking
about what it means to create things, so I had no time to create things. I was learning how to process a bad digestion,
and now that I'm cleaning up my body and my mind sometime's it feels like there's nothing to "process"
anymore the wind doesn't bite like it used to because my skin is now transparent. I've got nothing to say... finally!
So now I've got nothing to say and there's no more to think about
What a relief!
Once again, totally addicted to caffeine... and I've missed talking to myself in the scratchings of a pencil
in the coffee shop. So, hey there! And here we are. It's like nothing's changed since that GREAT EPIPHONY maybe a month ago now.
I'm right back to my same bad habits, and familiar again with the mind which condemns them, and condemns itself.
Whining! is a big part of my character, it seems. Let it go, just let it melt away. The thing is, I know I'm light.
I know that I'm empty and filled with air and that the experience of impurity is a mirage, a reflection of my shaky mind and
demanding ego. But here we are, still. Still addicted to caffeine, still making myself feel gross and then hating myself for it,
and on and on and on. But I'm also making myself feel good. I'm continuing to practice yoga, meditating, breathing, breathing... breathing...
through mirage and mirror and dust I'm still just breathing. Dreams within dreams
Dreams
within dreams
within dreams
And here I am just breathing. And it still makes me want to cry and I do. And then, I'm just crying.
And that's it and it's all okay. It's all okay forever and forever, in transcendental bliss or in just having a cup of coffee
in the morning. Accept yourself in the here and now FULLY!
This is it. This is it. Ahhhh... here we are again this is it and I've never not been here, here, here.
Now. Now, now only.
Now Only.
I am the passing moment
radiantly transient
April - First class intro
It seems I am teaching yoga. I say it seems rather than I am because to me this is a wonderful surprise.
Yes, I made the choice to take the 200 hour training, but what caused me to before I had even attended my first class in September
to know I would be doing this / or what caused me to even want to do this?
The answer I came up with is that I didn't. The experiences so far in my life that allowed me to be open to this possibility,
my personality, and where does that come from?
I wanted to explore with you the concept of simultaneously existing on multiple planes of consciousness.
On one hand, I chose to do this. I deliberated, I thought about it. On the other, I see how this is all an unfolding process that is simply
happening, and I have no choice in the matter.
It's like the heart beating
without us telling it to.
it just does its thing as
a function of our body.
I want to invite you to consider
(you don't have to believe me, just consider it, cause it's fun)
that our lives and personalities are in the same way simply doing their thing as a function of the universe.
It's just going on and we don't need to be so busy thinking we are who we think we are.
Because we are so much more.
I woke up this morning. Ah!
Teaching yoga today, how fascinating.
At this point I don't question it
it's much more interesting to just be
And watch myself do my thing.