With this meditation I think of no things. Clear, OM, inhale to the top, humming, still clear, apex ready to exhale, OM to the bottom, body-quiet, calm. With this meditation you will not think. You were clear think. Skyward falling volcano uprising thoughts; thoughts enter empty space; thoughts enter the shot. Thoughts pre-verbal, words as rain. Won’t think a word when you’re free inside emptiness, between images, between infinity, not the milliseconds we give our usual train. Expand the space between words. Open that clear abyss between words. Remain within the freedom place. Proceed to not knowing. Proceed to letting go. It’s okay. Exhale into that empty hold. Blow words away. Thoughts, ideas, images. Calm. Beyond the line, freedom hour.
But what were the fourteen ideas, fragments, concerns, devils, angels, lists, long-running issues; improve this or that; let go of that or this? Know what we did today; know what we’ll do tomorrow. Relations? Away until tomorrow! Call the town for large-item pickup? What do I need to do? Space, hover there, humming sometimes, flying certainly, exist with wonder wait for the next word, clue what, smiling as watching fireflies in July. How can you not play drums like that? The action life thing solo for yourself lost basements the space between the word, the current hour. Turn it up.
Slide down the couch. Into a more relaxed position. That’s a great fucking idea. Scooch-a-word. Should listen to the playlist again. Watch the film a second time. Read the book a third. Ride their rhyme lifetime. Sup dog Lifetime. Pinch your nipples, Lifetime. What will the next word be? Listen to the editors. There’s the word. Marriage? The fight yesterday morning and maybe the water rescued you maybe it didn’t smoothed things over for a while. Or maybe you have it all wrong. Can you survive the rising hum? The downward one? Well, let’s see - up/inhale through nose; down/exhale through mouth. Yeah, got that. Money? Your boys’ happiness? Keeping them safe. If you would just listen to the music ever.
Need new shoes. Done thought! Pow, pop! Or, shadow boxing thoughts away. Or, kayaking through ice floes, freezing water arctic paddle, whoosh, you go that way, whoosh, you that way, gliding through obstacles melting. Woop, vitt, swah. See what Brett Easton Ellis has done with White. Bridge the gap between allies. Thinkers of the life knowing during Babylon’s fall. We share our thoughts, and converse. He’s pushing buttons should be pushed. He and such fulfill necessary roles in corrupt society. The voice out there. Add to the current conversation. Withhold yelling, screaming, name-calling, shaming, cataloguing him old. Are we being nice to one another?
Straight the fuck up now in the end times: are we being nice to one another? We seeing? Listen to the music. Rather diss or inspire?
Keep vibe right words on the up. Choice we make, ideals. Oh, God, seriously this and these? Voices in the All-Mind. Souls walk into churches kill worshiping souls. There churches in Sri Lanka, there mosque there synagogue here there and there, words added to the pile, denunciations, somebody claimed responsibility. Man. Man, man, oh man. What the fuck are you doing? Dear Humanity, Who are we and what are we doing? Loosen up, yo’s. Clear Mind.
Eager for the next word; no, afraid. Afraid of empty space and the word, exhilarated, a rush on arrival. On breath, calm body, flying mind. There’s hi-hat, there’s surfboard, live with the bros any day, van down on the sand Santa Barbara. And there’s the Mind free solo, climbing El Cap no ropes, ripped focus, holding, mastering, summit safely ballet powerful. We are focused and powerful.
We can also turn from our climb, release rock, twist, free fall allow, out! Into empty space, released. Knowing smile the way down, speed it would be, wind through our hair, oh God, oh ecstasy! And
We
Open our arms and fly. Choose the redwood tree, there on the cliff. I’m calling take it all in. Calling read it aloud. Sing it! The way of the drum, the bounce, the dance. Free Mind Solo. Solo Free Mind. Mind Free Solo. Sag body. Into the ground. Need a new pair of shoes. Image of the pair arises, whoa, hold, swat! With a bat swack! Out my face, OM, slow, release, goodbye. Idea to sentence, sentence to phrase, phrase to word, out. Return to empty space. When you see it, do it. I need a shower. Turn the heat down, April almost May. Raining. Take out the recycling. Hold, not one committed, body anger reacts, body gone. Hold. Ride the hum, here in the pocket, hold, calm, there, breathing, breath, inhale know-body-gone, where’s the next word don’t look always comes, vast void swallows worlds. But hold, not necessarily, flying to the word, to God, our Humanity, the only anything we have. Food. Dishes. Chores. Easy to write those as questions. Body gone, fingers released from rock. Swack! But where you at
on that glacial lake? In a hurry.
And that’s too bad.
There is no other thing you were going to do.
Jam hand into pocket so your arm doesn’t flop off the couch.
Takes me three to five breaths to remove chemicals after scary thoughts.
I’m sorry. I won’t think I have something to offer.
Flow and control.
I like my first impulse better than my second.
I like my first impulse ignore my second.
Yes, yes, but there it is.
We all know the snow leopard real.
Stand before the man, stand the current hour.
“The Dang Zone”