Home is always here
Wherever it's path may roam
Listen to birdsongs

Bob's schooldays sculpture
Basking in the morning sun
Watching bees buzz by

Today's mind empty.
Silent. What will come will come.
Redwing blackbirds sing.

Here I am reclining,
looking up from ocean floor
watching a parade of fishes
Of every kind unseen before
watching sunlight filter down
From way up there so high
lighting the depths of deepest blue
with rays from distant sky
Breatheing in and breatheing out
as if I too were a fish
wondering if I'm now a-sleeping
and if this I wonder is a wish. :-)

Little fishes of every bright color, sunshine, shadows, the siren call of sensual delights, __No end to it!___Imagination fills full and spills over into rains of existence continually replenishing the Sunshine Sparkled Sea of Life!

Put feet into FlipFlops this morning to Wade the ocean floor. (Didn't want to step barefoot on a StingRay, you know.) Passed a big purple fish laying eggs in an old oyster bed. Thought: "that old fish wants to bite a worm." Soon it will be gone, no more fish. It will swim up to the surface around the roots of a bunch of tupelo trees and wait for a hapless dragon fly to land. These old Purple fish find food among roots while roots eat long gone Purple Fish.

"If useless things do not hang in your mind,
any season is a good season for you."
- Mu-mon (1228)
...
As time goes by and we pick the fruit that hangs upon the wall We remember the season we're in is the best season of all... :-)
Spring listens to birds, watches tender twigs hold onto bursting buds; it carries no burdens of thought, it merely flows gently onward into summer. Summer sweats, fans, cools off in running streams, hikes on up to the mountains where in Autumn it climbs up to the highest peaks; it carries along with it no burdensome thoughts, but finds Winter on the highest peak of all, and there in sleep with no thought at all, it warms itself in the sun.

my garden gets dark
in the middle of the night
when i'm fast asleep

There's a white line
Between midnight and morning
No sunlight, no moon.

Luna Gold Meadow Rock from Earl and Pam

Unknown artist on path toward no attainment looking back at none ending up all the same at the end as not begun now wondering is never seen the same as never done?
Midsummer's day high up to just below the eaves dripping sweet raindrops of pure feeling.
And then again with nightfall a warm curtain falls
From out there somewhere a vibrating voice calls
No, not ghostly.
It's Life - strumming on the strings of Earth.

footprints in wet sand
beside frothy surf waters
swallowed by in-tide

There is a gemstone
Giving the sunlight color
On the window sill

My Special Rock
This Rock, woven with light
Define all rocks
This is a rock without a flaw
Each shadow cast, each facet with
its own brilliant sun reflecting
the big sun-in-the-sky that no eye can bear.
There it is on the window sill, basking in the sun!
A rock without a flaw indeed! A treasure alone of its kind.

And it lives in permanent change. Every time my eyes turn to it, it tells me something new that is good. It is forever newly fresh and different. :-) I love my special rock. :-)

I hang my blue shirt out,
out on the flatlands where
distance makes a haze into
the face of the lowering sun;
I watch the winds wave
fields of wheat.
Under a cluster of trees I see
a house where farmers and
birds go home to roost.
Sundown comes to the
silent scene and erases the
line between earth and sky,
then my heart feels calm as
I watch a full harvest moon
rise up from the east.

Bright sun shining,
Briskly blowing breeze
Clothes waving on the line like flags unfurled
Ah 'tis a sight for sore eyes!

When I was sleeping
This tree root was my pillow
I dreamed of nothing

an infinite point
potential for anything
always free to be
...
Fishes must have air to breathe
water in air, air in water
...

Day and night the running stream
Flows thinking through a mind
Skies of black and blue
Shining stars bestrew
Wild tigers in borneo
Long brown fish looking like leaves.
Next to the house there's a
Wide open field freshly plowed
Ready for spring planting.

From the rocks water flows clear

Thinking like Wang Wei, From a deep and restful sleep beside the river at the bottom of the canyon, I woke when daylight crept over the rim a mile above. Soon I am climbing an endlessly curving, faintly outlined trail up and up. Every once in a while I have to rest. I listen and look around for signs of other campers or hikers. It seems they've all vaninshed into thin air. Rain starts to fall, floods the dry and dusty ground around my feet and flows hushed around the rocks. There are silent words deep in hidden crevices and a long, low musical hum from over the invisible rim above. When I look south, I see the white sun floating through the rainbow mist of the rain. Canyon walls are heavy shadows, wavery and indistinct. Just as I begin to feel closed in, I suddenly come upon a wide open space. I see green grass and a small blue lake, luminous and clear, and my mind is at peace.... :-)

Rock of ages...

Under white clouds lying low,
Betwixt and between winter and spring.
No flying snow.
I sit on a ledge waiting.
For what I don't know.
Perhaps for violets to start to grow.
Or springs of water from crevices to flow
.Or a rocky brown hillside where green things grow.

Today this back yard pond with bridge is gone.
No more pond. No more fish.

Like a Bird Flying
Through endless earths and skies
Happy to be free

Another summer in my garden now at last begins to fade away into Fall and this one more time today I'm filling empty pots with soil and seeds for summer next. Soon these leaves and twigs I kneel in now will begin their journey of winter around delightful being-here-now paths of mysterious double helixes into another spring full of this that is.

I shall paint today
With brushes made of nothing
Pictures in my mind

All is quiet in this still world with the door shut. Only one candle will light the night.

Far into the night
A bright candle burning
Those who are awake
To their own rest turning
When the candle goes out
and all is quiet
Sweet dreams drift in
through the velvet night,
Into the silence
With the whole
world sleeping
Renewal and rest
deeply deepening.

Lizard on a branch
Sunning self on frozen tree
She's turning pages

I Love my Rock!! :-)
I LOVE my rock! 'Specially the hole in it! It reminds me of childhood days in the barn loft looking out at the landscape through a very small knothole! It came yesterday which was a BIG surprise...I thought I was going to have several days of anticipation before it arrived. :-) I'm thinking to make some photos of it when I get some new batteries for my little camera. I wonder if the camera lens could see through that little hole. :-) THANK YOU! It fits perfectly into my hand. It feels good!

Look to the source, the rock, the space between.

mossy green cool wet rock
ssoaking in mist from spray
waterfalls tumble whitely cold
down from high and far away

down to the flowers in a park
down to the grist in a mill
down to where meadowlarks play
and down to the whippoorwill

the meaning of life is written
in the pages of nature's book
on every leaf of every tree
and everywhere we look.

Streaming streams of thoughts

Ten thousand things I thought
Turned out to be for naught,
In the shadow of
a leaf on the ground,
Not a shred of a
leaf was found.
And so it is with
"I thought it was true,"
Like a bird made for flight,
away it flew.

Lighting no candle,
I sit in the gathering
darkness, watching
the curtain fall.

Walking forest trails
Eating fruits along the way
Drinking spring water
Look at all those leaves! Myriads of them, all the same yet each different. The door is open. I walk out into the forest upon whose floor the flowers grow, I wander freely this way and that, wherever my nature leads me. I wash my feet in the flowing brook.

___Our little Tiffany
___Meeting "Jonathan Livinston Seagull?"
What's the green grass doing there on the beach, Where the sand dunes and sea oats used to be?
answer: bulldozers. beachhouses, and high-rise condominiums .
Now the green grass grows.

I am this that I am
I decided to let some of this brain stuff (that's still sloshing its way through my mind) get typed- no matter if it sounds like gibberish - (although to me it's not like gibberish.) :-)
I'm thinking thoughts about this brain and me.
I'm comparing it now to this heart and me.
I'm thinking that this brain is not the thoughts that flow through it like this heart is not the blood that flows through it. I'm thinking of this brain, this heart, these eyes and all these other many, many parts that fit so perfectly well together, as making one whole fantastic organic "tool" that I'm using for the purpose of experiencing experiences.
I'm thinking of these "tools" as "mine" the same way I think of these shoes on my feet as "mine." Or this house, these trees, this water, this whole world that I live in as "mine."
______ I AM
i/self being emptiness/form.
the "I" part being non-material
the AM part being material
______ I AM
I/emptiness being non-material
and AM/form being material)

(emptiness being the non-material form of material form)

No part exists without the whole and
the whole non-existent without all parts.

"I am this that I am."

tom a toes