Beckon on

Long after lamps’ oil dwindles down
The search voices calls out to Profound
Sirens melodies beckon on
a final truth never found

Forged as tools
Vailed mirrors direct The gaze
In vast colors and every way
Except that which is plain

Seeking preceptor
Kingdoms seduce in whole
Promise lands with crossed fingers
Soon all becomes damned

Towards heaven, passions turn
Every fiber transformed to be in reach
When the fall comes, as it always does
Enemies born externally

No will left to carry on the hunt
A moment arises within the breath
The fourth time destroying ticks
that do not exist

Long after lamps’ oil dwindles down
The search voices calls out to Profound
Sirens melodies beckon on
a final truth never found

When in doubt

A changing of the season. Like the passing of some deeply held belief. Would this continue for the rest of his life? Chris debated the meaning of the cirrus clouds. What message was it bringing to him? Was it a sign? Maybe his existence has no meaning at all. How could he know? Amongst the confusion he had a moment of clarity, the snow would be. The easy way out of his cyclic thinking began by not fighting nature. It does not matter whether he liked or disliked the snow, whether is was a blessing or a burden; it simply is.

This realization brought a great calm within Chris’ normally discursive mind. All along he had thought everything had such deep and profound meanings. And now, when opinion was removed, his experience was as is, not how it should be. When in doubt, breathe.

November for Beginners

Details

Cyclic

Maybe this time, maybe things will magically change

‘I can do it,’

‘just don’t care,’

‘don’t over think it,’

…all false mantras

I was doomed from the stubborn start

1104

It’s so nice to see you again

coming out the shadows with a pen

Just two lines for now. My brain has trouble organizing thoughts sometimes. This is a greeting to the writer in me looking to resurface.

https://dversepoets.com/

unborn

it is not impatient, it is not angry

it is not lacking, it is not form

it is stainless

it is

the basic message

energy pulsing

along with morning crunching

breathe space breathe space breathe

Pronunciation

Untitled moment

three ante meridiem

being here for now

In hope that we might sleep

In times we cannot accept,

Minutes seem likes days.

No color, no taste…even love seems fake.

And then, we step with our left instead of our right.

We choose to embrace instead of pushing away.

The shoulders fall; we breathe again in a new space

And for a moment, we open again.

 

 

 

522

Touched by space in a moment

Not profound nor beautiful; just simply true

Reminds to rest and allow all fully

Not to chase or resist…

Simple breathing

Stainless light

Unborn, brilliant rays

Burn through and fade

Unnatural molds that we’ve  made

Early morning guest

                        An invitation
        

         Birds, wind; even train whistle
              

               Connect and experience

Art the Dinosaur

Lone brontosaurus

Searching for trees

Wanders through a forest of art

Conversing with me

Little rebel

photo by Emily Blincoe

http://www.emilyblincoe.com/arrangements/

 

To think that I once thought of myself as free

Wind blown, free to grow, color in cheeks

 

Whether this life was eventually termed long or short

I’m not really sure either concept will ever come close

 

I wanted so much more, simply to live and be able to love

But in the end, I became just another story for the coffee book table

 

for https://dversepoets.com/

 

Listening

Uncertain

Cricket points to space

Trees sway sleep

Secrince’s light

 

 

 

 

 

 

Was true in moonlight, set in space

absence of time, blue, red and black

fountains violent, desire-less sight

touching, yet separate; similar paths

Rage does slow, abound and kneeling

with page in hand, soaked with feeling

perfected sight, foot steps go slowly

come back full circle, season dwelling

Sane willows sway and hold dear secrets

sworn once more on final night

known and forgotten just to see

merged again to absorb light

 

moment

Heart smile, eyes gleaning 

She wants only to rest in love 

I’m an apple

​30 days

So beautiful

I am blessed

Where the wild things go…

Sudden creaking door

Natural smell, sudden smack

Merton beneath trees

 

Stillness again

Time seems stretched somehow

Playing each moment sweetly

I remember this

Dust and light

in soft morning light
silence recognizing space
there is room for all

1369

It’s so easy to see it.
To feel the damp, soft leaves…
smell the sharp, fall air,
clearing away all thoughts.

Curls everywhere.
2 am chocolate.
Midnight rain…emphasizing the silence.

Somewhere deep in a dark forest,
we will sleep like cats.

Sleep easy

Of all the wanted things,
my only, is
to say goodnight

Subtle love

Finding. A hidden poem in your pocket during work….all the things I’ll never say

she sleeps

she sleeps

he lay there thinking

he is aware of the over thinking

and chooses to sit in the silence of the dark morning

breathing in, seeing the confusion, feeling the onslaught of emotions

she sleeps

he sits

 

breath and awareness separated by concept

candle flicker and nature dual

her breathing becomes the lesson

of letting go

 

the hips fall forward

allowing the channel to open

for a second he analyses

 

“Let go: it’s OK. Just, let go..”

 

Some would say he forgot his surroundings

and fell into another state.

Maybe found a higher plane…

Yet, he simply made peace with this time and place.

And as she dreamed, hoped and slept,

he sat.

 

 

 

 

hilltop breeze

Kentucky trees

erasing all thoughts

for a moment I was there

kissed by its’ breeze

 

The crisp, moist fallen leaves

clinging to the bottom of my jeans

everything so simple

space

…and so we spend our entire life trying to acquire the most accurate wisdom only to realize that we don’t know a fucking thing…there may be no greater gift.

 

 

Illusory veils

Blankets upon the mind

Capturing up moments

imprisoned fireflies

Heed the warmth of flicker-flame

As awareness becomes fire

Fuel for the journey

Coals of desire

 

 

The artwork at above was inspired by this writing. If you’d like to view more of my art just copy and paste the link below;

 

fineartamerica.com/profiles/dennis-welch.html

 

 

I like the smell of seaworms

inspired by a fellow blogger/writers’ recent post

 

 

I like darkness; the more the better. I like it to be so dark and so silent that I actually start to look over my shoulder every few minutes. I like having fresh cheese, tomatoes, salsa, guacamole, bread and wine laid out on a table in front of me for lunch (I miss you San Francisco lunches). I really like a cup of coffee with a cigarette, yet, both speed me up too much… and then I don’t like it anymore.

I like when Charlie, my cat, grazes my arm with his wet nose. The silence after midnight. I like walking around after midnight, when most are asleep so the need to speak ceases. Weeks at  Dharma Ocean; especially when in silent mode for days on end; I also like leaving Dharma Ocean after weeks of brutal meditation (with a sign of weariness and relief).

I like the smell of seaworms; yes, I can still smell you. And yes, the books still smell like you.

I like the feeling of books being in a perfect straight line. And I too, like the sound of a door being closed slowly. Foods that have the texture of skin; the smell of my fingertips after rolling a cigarette. Eating snow, sleeping in the mountains, people that don’t suck and convincing people who do that they don’t have to suck. I like waking up still in a dream, so connected I can taste and feel what was happening. I like the way Charlie just wants to sleep and purr; no other motives.

I like staring at my kids when they don’t know I’m looking. I like staring at my kids and annoying them when they know I’m looking. Getting lost in the woods. Taking the train somewhere unplanned and unknown. Left Hand Milk Stout, Amsterdam Shag tobacco, the smell of an apartment the morning after a ton of sage has been burnt. I like biting my nails ( it’s so damn satisfying). Riding my bike downtown with no destination or direction for hours.  A giant glass of milk with a plate of french toast.

 

I like ending things.

Hop on in…

 

 

https://www.facebook.com/events/321500324674636/?notif_t=plan_reminder

 

 

 

Shadow

 

 

And what will you send to me

Tidal waves of blood and bone

Or lakes and forest, the smell of stones

Surely something I haven’t seen

A hidden message to receive

There will be a house; yes, there will be a house

…in appreciation of Carl Gustav Jung

01:55

Maps made of hands

with comfortable borders

An old friend arises

 

The brain played too much of a role

 

Empty smoke moves towards the element

while a symbol of love clicks across keyboard

Horns play this final line

 

 

Thirty seven breathes

My love,

 

 

All of these years, 

I can still feel you;

all the trees still look like you.

All the books speak your voice,

drawing me deeper in.

And on a few moonlit mornings,

I swear you’re still gently waking me up.

 

 

 

 

We don’t talk anymore,

and I don’t get to see your face except on the computer screen.

But the last time you touched my face seems like last week.

How is it possible that I love you more now than our last sleep?

Thirty-seven breathes…

 

 

 

 

I still can’t wait to tell you of all I meet within myself.

I still wake up excited to tell you about my dreams.

You may not know it,

but these days of mine I still share with you.

All of these days, all of these years,

I still feel you.

.

 

 

The end is near

The rules no longer bind

The guilt won’t hold

The machine is broke

Tell me how to speak

And i’ll abide

Tell us not to feel

I’ll fall in line

All everyone needs

is to be treated artificially

Tell us where to send our money

Use yours books

to make us fear

Teach us who not to love

The reign has gone on long enough

The end is near

The rules no longer bind

The guilt won’t hold

The machine is broke

Self-deception

Living out the shadows cast down upon us, cause it’s all we’ve ever known

Holding back everything that makes us real, cause all we learned was fear

 

 

And they say, “that it is what it is”

“It’s all the same”, well it’s  just self deception

Living the same old self- made lies once again

 

 

And they say, “that it is what it is.”

“It’s all the same”, well that’s just self deception

Keeping the truth of pain and freedom at arms length

 

 

Back to the heart of me

 

 

Living like a crayon in a drawer full of spoons, feels like liberation

Forging forward as others think it too soon, breaking all the chains

 

 

And they say, “that it is what it is”

“It’s all the same”, well it’s  just self deception

Living the same old self- made lies once again

 

 

And they say, “that it is what it is.”

“It’s all the same”, well that’s just self deception

Keeping the truth of pain and freedom at arms length

 

 

Back to the heart of me

 

 

Principasia

I met you first in a mental ward

never thought I’d feel your voice against my skin

We talked for hours in the red light

Told all that others wouldn’t hear

Miles away, ears from sight;

you’re still here

Keep telling myself

Just another number to forget

another name that I’ll always regret

Just another song I wont play at the bar

 

 

Just another late night place to avoid

another unique laugh I’ll never miss

Just another face I’ll never kiss

Or so I’ll keep telling myself…

 

 

Never gonna miss the way you say my name

or the sound of your breath,

while your head’s resting on my chest

Just another feeling I wont miss

when I wake up to your kiss

or the way you know just what to say

when I’ve been having a bad day

 

 

Never miss the way you danced with me

like everyone else has disappeared

or the way you let me love you

like I’m your best friend

Or so I’ll keep telling myself…

 

 

This is actually a song I’m working on…so it’ll probably change and be updating soon.

In the depths

Telling a story made of lies

to bring about awe and surprise

Does the three seconds of laughter justify

the ingrained solicitation?

Now that the crowd has lulled

what next will be revealed

to fulfill ones’ empty need?

Or is it just the opposite?

Is it a covering over of the uncertain and the unknown?

For true death comes from surrendering the cyclic process of thought.

Pushing away all discomfort and uncertainty; aggression

Pulling and grasping that which makes a sense of security; passion

Endlessly oscillating, thinking it will bring about happiness; ignorance

Is it not below the current where stillness brings about clarity?

In the darkness; the disorientation; the fear…

In the depths where stainless love has always been.

Entrance

Are these grooved things not fit for better things?
They that tell a lifetime
Speak of evolution
Are they to be employed by illusion?

Twisting and turning
Bending and burning
Forging and fusing particles of the past
This dust cannot take form once more

And if this Vegas show would once more perform
surely its sights and sounds would betray

These distant images arise not from depths of clarity
But  are summoned by the minions of longing

How true the air is striking the skin, now, at this perfect hour
Waste no more and wash these gifts at last
Let dust be dead as it is

Are these hands meant for disabled clutching?
For enduring the ritualistic death that fear brings about?
Let joints breath again and open to the world
Sounding pulsing instruments of awakened life

These beautiful extensions of love and gentleness;
To reach out
To touch
To pull oneself and also another upright into liberating posture

How true they move when the heart pulsates through these veins
How true the air is striking skin, now, at this perfect hour

Still places

Fix the light bulb at night

sampling midnight air just right

fur-covered explorers striding elegantly about

while skin speaks with eloquence

 

Red, red embers attract the wind

the end of death, breathing begins

bright blue lover with a beautiful caress

emptiness granting romance

 

Altering to remain the same

counting cracks on the ceiling again

flow of heat showing all the lost places

flow of love, perfected spaces

 

Flowers bend a knee

notes made of dreams

a time without memory

a place made to feel

 

 

 

All to be

To sit in silence;

slowing down

thoughts losing speed

even more importantly, losing substance

 

Allowing all to be as is;

the tense neck

the fear of the unknown

the unassigned love

 

To walk as human;

to feel a heavy heart

experiencing uncertainty

knowing all is fleeting

Drifting

What do I see

lost; drifting, in this sea

but I am without oar

endlessly;

trying to allow me

quiet mind

Hanging in the shadows,

mind worn from playing ego’s games;

happy sad, good or bad …

the silent company you provided

was everything I needed.

Books for Sale

Cleaning off the bookshelves. It’s long over due. If you would like to purchase any of the following, just send me a message. Looking for s+h plus what ever you would like to pay for the book(s) in form of money order or check. (I don’t use banks)

 

   Pyschology

Identity and the Life Cycle – Erik H. Erikson

Inscapes of the child’s world; Jungian counseling in schools and clinics – John Allan

Care of the soul; A guide for cultivating depth and sacredness in everyday life – Thomas Moore

 

   Spiritual/Religion/Meditation

Buddha’s Lions; The Lives of the eighty-four siddhas (Abhayadatta) – Translated by James B. Robinson

The Tibetan Book of the Dead (intro by the Dalai Lama)

The Practice of Kalachakra (forward by the Dalai Lama) – Glenn H. Mullin

Science of the breath – Swami Rama, Rudolph Ballentine, M.D., Alan Hymes, M.D.

How to see yourself as you really are – Dalai Lama ..translated by Jeffrey Hopkins, PhD.

The Mishap Lineage;Transforming Confusion Into WIsdom – Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche

Enligtened courage – Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche

The Upanishads – Translation by Eknath Easwaran

Merton and Sufism – Vons Vitae

Crisis and Story; Introduction to the Old Testament – W.Lee Humphreys

An Anthology of Living Religions – Mary Pat Fisher, Lee W. Bailey

The Routledge Companion to the study of Religion – edited by John R. Hinnels 

 

if interested in any books, you can message me on here or at woihrt@yahoo.com

 

3 p.m.

How the day melts into lilac-colored space

presenting all objects without preference or passion;

an opportunistic mirror.

Embodied life

Thinking about intimacy.

How a lack of intimacy with self cuts off the connection completely. We sometimes come to a place of feeling a need for someone else to enter our life; to bring us acceptance, acknowledgement, happiness and meaning. But it is intimacy with ourselves that we are craving/lacking.

It’s easy to see how we come upon this “grey” state. Life gets tough, we sense that we are feeling too much, so we begin to distance ourselves from our experience/body. Using all sorts of creative distractions, keeping our brain occupied and on the move, we can live a life cut off from the painful aspects of life. What a lot of us fail to notice is that we are cutting off experiencing the pleasurable aspects of life, fully, as well.

 

The following website leads to the introductory teachings presented by Dharma Ocean. For those seeking an embodied life; one that embraces all of life’s experiences, fully, I invite you to take a look.

 

Best wishes on your journeys

Dennis

http://www.dharmaocean.org/meditation/learn-to-meditate/

 

 

Sun soaked hair

Last night, I saw you

moving through a meadow

riding a brown horse.

 

 

The sun shining through

your earthly, natural hair;

showing true beauty.

Why not?

A heat builds 

while sitting cross-legged,

loosening the icy tension.

 

Knots start to unfold,

thoughts begin to slow,

compassion is revealed.

 

Why not spend

a small part of the day

uncovering the heart?

 

Why not let 

the mind be 

settled and open?

 

Why not 

experience

freedom?

 

 

 

 

Awaken

The wind blows its contents about

Creating a beautiful tapestry for my eyes

All here sleep

I, alone, witness this

 

 

Mind wanders to the coming days

Flights, meditation, expectation

Then, those thoughts rest

And I, alone, witness this

 

 

As I breath in and out

Sun breaks the plane

All life stirs and begins its dance

All, eventually, will experience this

 

Life Revisited

Life Revisited

 

 

Life Revisited is a group for support of any life problem. We have support for any problem you may have. Drug and Alcohol recovery support, disabilities, LGBT support, rape victims, domestic violence help, any type of help you need we’re here to offer an ear, and just be there for you.

 

 

https://www.facebook.com/groups/134832266669221/

Today; breathing

An online friend had a post that invoked a reflection of mine that I would like to share;

 

Hi M@%%6(*h,

From all the meditation/bodywork/teachings, etc…it seems to all boil down to what you said; breathing with the present moment. I did a week-long solitary, meditation retreat about two years back and all I did was sob uncontrollably, the ENTIRE TIME! It was brutal, exhausting. I thought I was truly going to have a heart attack. It would be great if I could say that I emerged with some better knowledge or wisdom; but I didn’t. I simply left that retreat more grounded in my body; meaning more connected to the physical life of my body, especially the pain.

I was sobbing from all my past experiences of pain that I had tried to fend off, lock up, repress… and finally, the dam had broke. I was also recently separated from my wife who I loved unconditionally. The one person who seemed to understand me. And my heart was weeping, but I thought it too much to bear at the time so I walled it off (unconsciously).

On a daily basis, I sit, and I breathe. Without expectation of enlightenment or being visited by external deities and overwhelming love and compassion,etc…simply to sit, breathe and connect with reality. It has brought about clarity in my life; what relationships are detrimental to my well being, which are helpful, when to step into something new and when to slightly hold back. But the greatest thing it has brought about is an awareness of what my heart wants; living from the heart instead of being drown in neurotic babble within my brain. A genuine life. One where enough of the past (somatic tension) has been released so as love and compassion can flow THROUGH me because I started to learn how to love those “unwanted” aspects of myself, how to relax my grasping and aversion to reality.

I’m thinking of all this because I am about to enter a 10-day solitary, meditation retreat next weekend. Very excited for the experience that silence, solitude and 10-days of just simply being with all aspects of self bring about. I’m also have some anxiety about the retreat. A lot can happen in an hour of meditation, even more so in a full day and night of such practice. But mostly, I am grateful. Grateful that there were beings who came across my path willing to share their experience with me; and who still do. Grateful that I have the physical health, financial situation and support to enable me to do such beautiful work.

Wow, quite a page I’ve written here..ha! The way you so honestly express your experience always brings out my own personal reflection. And for that, I am also grateful.

So, as you sit, I sit.
As you breathe, I breathe.
This is something I’ve been sitting with for the last day. It’s very interesting and helpful to me;

” Trungpa Rinpoche once said something that I found extraordinarily intriguing – it’s in a book called “Glimpses of Abhidharma.” He said, “Not only are people alive, not only are animals and trees alive, not only is the world alive and intelligent and has its own way of being (the so-called inanimate world) but even the energies and the events of our own psyche are living, independent entities. They are living forces. They are “beings”. Our love, our anger, even our fear want to be free; they don’t want us to hang onto them and use them.”

– Reggie Ray,  Dathün 2008-09