Wandering

Let the birds watch you

and listen to their call

Simply

Because it is beautiful

 

Let the feet walk you

wherever they ponder,

feel the dry mud and cool stone

maybe the crisp crackles of the twigs

will speak to you

 

Nature knows something

That it is fine

 

Ride the feeling into blissful silence

Simply to have a listen

 

Explore the rough bark of the trees,

They sit there quietly for many centuries

you know

 

There’s no need of a journey,

just simply wander

wondering

The Fear

Bright lights

Late nights

no reason

for former or latter

or the eyes

becoming watched

and unable to see

all in order to alleviate

The Fear.

 

The colour was stolen

by a grey thief,

an ogre under burned bridges

in shadows

 

A vacuum makes

the mind jump up and down,

though the dark nothing knows the body in it’s limpness

and tells why the blue waters turned a stagnant green,

why algae and fungus

rid the lily pads of youth,

becoming the green

on that it depended

 

To fall

or not to fall

 

The itch grows

It knaws slowly under the skin

Sapping at the life blood

 

It’s felt in the flowers and the trees

and the birds and the bees

and the insects

 

 

Once, layed on a soft pillow of green spires

a break to pass

while staring up at the sky,

the time to be filled

is so far away

still

just sleep…

 

Then seeing the original eye

in a cluster of cloud

in the shape of a lotus flower

 

Understanding a sight

A connection

The heart pumped oxygen into the belly of the wilder-beast

 

that Breathing strength through the ascension

of the paths of the mountain

and Listening

With unflinching peace,

beguiled leaves

to fall,

to be reborn.

 

 

-Ben

Integrate

Find the pieces

of your heart

That make you more

than the sum of your

parts

 

The One Path

to Anything

Everything

is under the nose’

and makes us breathless

 

I’m called by surfaces

they sing me

songs of pleasure

 

I run and run

sometimes I listen

getting caught in the pleasure prison

 

Measurable length

and width

We’re in a prism

 

Becoming what we love and hate

Giving over to focus,

re-membering

to spirit

or geography

 

Awareness is the division

of the north and the south

away from here

 

Wanting Feeling

for the wear and tear

for the body

for the people hurt

for the people helped

typical of Humans

 

Caught in a net of shadows

unaware of the true nature

delusions of

self grandeur

dribbling

through the cracks of the fortress

 

Now breaking the fortress to let it in

Realising that

I was born in sin

Getting Older

When our joints start grinding
On nights I tend to wander.
My joints didn’t used to hurt of bending
Grinding, grinding, every day
Getting older
Things I used to say,
Now I’m telling
To kids who nod and hear me
But don’t listen to a thing

You stare at yourself
The mirror is shining you back
Stubble and broader shoulders
Frame you in a way unfamiliar
Like sitting in a carriage
Full of strangers
Realising that you are one of them

Advice I was given
Schizm.
Empty truths
till Cliche’s became real one day
At the other end of a candle
Time is burning away
and I haven’t shown my light yet.

Only 19
But at 12 I was only 12 and planning my future
at 30 I’ll be working for play
and Maybe I’ll play till I work
but I’ll be too old for that

And no, I’ll say,
I’m only getting started
The days of being old have never begun
nor never departed
I do what I do because I do feel like doing it
Your words are your own
So keep on doing it

…Something anyway…

What you say
Is what you have to say
but I want to hear what
you
and everyone
has to say
because they have it
They’re all on their tracks
There’s no cover for it
Even with a sugar coat
It’s the meaning and
Time’s floating away with substance running out

Wandering about my joints now
I listened to them
they say take the main-stance and time will take you
He nodded, I listened.

That was the time I washed through my stance firmly
and found myself joined in the warm fluid
Moving
Getting older

-Ben

For those that are lost…

Write. Speak. Jump up and down.

It’s mad how long we can travel down the same path of fogginess. We are just floating through nowhere, from nowhere, and we goddamn hate it!

I challenge you to write. Just do it.

Writing changes everything. When you write it is as when you speak to others that you trust. You let go of the tensions that you are holding inside of yourself, you are letting it splurge out onto the paper. The act of letting yourself make the connection of your mind to the paper or the screen or whatever you use, it is going to shift your energy outside of yourself. If you successfully make this connection, this transition of energy, then this trapped energy will be unleashed onto the page, and you will find in your connection and your internal response to this energy the answers to your questions.

One must look at this energy, these words, with the advising eye of a best friend. Treat this energy truthfully, for it is you. Observe yourself! Watch your thoughts, your posture, your responses. First and foremost, feel your reaction to this watching. Do not let yourself be caught up in what one should or should not think, but allow yourself to see as if there were no right and wrong, only what is and is not. Let your response to this connection teach you of yourself. Let your response to your watching and listening teach you of your truth.

Now if you have not already found your way via these teachings, then seek inspiration. Seek those who inspire you, those who light a fire inside of you, who excite you! Those that you find yourself almost jumping out of your chair when spending time with. And again remember and understand through your responses, that the teachings that you will take from them is not what they tell you your internal response to their stance. Your patterns are your teachers.

The guidance that you receive from those that inspire you is the practice that you can practice in order to find your way.

Know this: that it is in the practice that you shall find your ground. Your internal response to the (consistent!) practice of this guidance will tell you what you need to know, and once you know that, you will be on your way.

 

‘The art is in the doing of it’ -Sandy Meisner

– Ben

Memory.

Wandering greens and greys in red tint,

I entered the mouth of a giant.

It washed me with cool air.

Heartbeats of trees

Thumped through the floor under my feet,

Thoughts trickled with the water.

While the ferns followed the waves of the breeze,

The wind nursed me into quiet.

A pitter patter of ducks and  wandered the riverside,

And there behind the trees a yellow light glowed,

Casting bronze between the branches.

Then I walked 4 miles of thoughts.

I spent my feelings on food

And my food for a feeling.

I sat in the quiet of a room,

‘My room’,

Nursing the numb I’d aquired with focus, with focus.

And as weariness takes me,

I roll around and around,

Looking for the cold parts of the sheets,

Until it is stained with me,

And I think about the yellow light, and the ducks, and the thumping of the hearts of the trees in the feeling of my feet.

And it didn’t matter anymore…

An image of colour and light,

Such a beautiful memory…

-Ben

Master’s Trip

The Donkey carries his master on his back. With purposeful strides he makes his way down the tree streaked road. Prints from former caravans smoothen the path, and the Donkey traces them with the pride of a Son with his Father.

The master was on his way to a very important opportunity of his. He was going to be promoted to the head of the hood charity: An organisation that helped the poor and those in need by supplying them with food, and company on tough nights.

This is taking too long, the Master thought. I need to get there before sundown or I will miss the meeting.

He stuck his left hand in his supply bag, pulled out a loaf of bread. With his right,  he proffered it to the Donkey, dangling it in front of his nose.

The Donkey ate it, and felt ripples of energy pass through his body. The Donkey knew he would need more to really get his belly filled, but he enjoyed his bread and carried on down the path.

For miles they walked onward into the afternoon, walking over hills, and through the fields and forests. Occasionally they took breaks to rest and sit for minutes of bliss in the bask of the sun and the velvet grass.

Yet The Master was not contented. The Donkey has been well behaved, yes, but this was not fast enough. We will not make the goal of sunset, he thought.

He grabbed an apple from his sack and proffered it. The Donkey ate it from his hand.

The Donkey again was going to need more to really fill him. But munching on the apple, he felt even better, stronger, and could walk further than ever. The donkey enjoyed his apple.

In exchange, his Master demanded him to walk further in-between breaks.

This is a fair game, The Master thought. I gave him more food, and therefore he has more energy. I expect him to try his best.

A muffin for The Donkey. Or maybe two… He proffered 3 muffins in succession, and The Donkey bit into the buttery goodness delightfully.

The Donkey continued onward, over a bridge, and down under the shade of the trees, slowly digesting these balls of tastiness.  He felt great.

Although he did notice that he could not walk as quickly as he could yesterday.

The Master noticed too. He was now becoming agitated. There was no more time for rests. It was important that they sped up. I’ll give the mule more incentive, he thought.

A Pie… 2 Pies! He proffered them. The Donkey hesitated, then ate.

Now it will speed up, The Master thought. I expect that it will do it’s job and take me to take me where I need be.

The Donkey sweated, feeling heavier with every step. He no longer felt good. He felt tired, and could not walk as fast as he used to. Angered, The Master breathed heavily.

He gave the Donkey more.

This should do it, he thought. A cake for the Donkey: He proffered it as before. the Donkey, not feeling good, trusted his master, ate the cake.

After a mile of lumbering and gasping, the Donkey fell. He had been exhausted and was too large to walk. He did not understand why his master had given him the food, and why he felt so bad for eating it. He thought and wished that he had never eaten any of his masters food. He passed out.

The Master got off of the donkey, and walked off down the road and into the distance without him.

A few hours later, he clopped back down the road with another Donkey. Other caravans took the route, and upon finding one, negotiated a price.

The Donkey had awoken two hours beforehand, and the hope of his Master coming back had dimmed from a glow to a flicker.

Maybe I was too quick to judge Master, the Donkey thought, he has come back to save me.

The Master removed The Donkey’s clothes, his equipment, his saddle, and the boxes of food that The Donkey had carried on his back, strapping it all onto the new Donkey.

The Master hopped onto New Donkey and rode off into the sunset.

-Ben