The Prettiest Poems Ever Penned on the Planet+ The World’s Wisest Words of Wisdom

I broke on the rocks

When your talons

Gouged out my eyes

I held fast to your tail

As you soared up high over the rocks

With one flick you released me

I broke into seven pieces on the rocks

Epiphyte

Hi. My role models are epiphytes. You know, those plants that grow without soil. They just absorb sunlight, moisture from the air and they don’t really bother anybody. They give us oxygen. And they hurt no one.

The Universe Demands to Know What it is

I exploded. I don’t remember anything before that. I was energy. I was matter and energy. I’ve had lots of smaller explosions since, but nothing as big as that first one. And now, here I am, thinking about it. My consciousness isn’t centered in just this one head of mine. I think I have different pieces of the puzzle of what I am in minds scattered all over.

Wakescape

There’s some kind of leak between my dreams and my so-called reality. It used to be one way, the normal way: bits and pieces of my life show up randomly in dreams. You know, your dog is in your dream, giving you advice, and she’s also your mother. But ever since April 13th, dream-stuff has been appearing in my waking world. For example, as I am writing this, I’m sitting in a café in Vermont, and on the chalk-written menu is raisin-flavored kombucha. Yes, Vermont is full of the hippy probiotic drink kombucha. But nobody really makes raison-flavored kombucha. It’s something I dreamed last night, along with the kombucha-flavored, vegan, raw chocolate cream pie, which I just noticed is also on display here in this café. It makes me wonder what else I’m seeing that I forget I dreamed up.

Thoughts on Love and Compassion

Let’s say you’re in a room doing something, perhaps meditating on universal loving kindness, perhaps just writing a blog post, and there’s a puppy right outside the door crying. And let’s say that you know this puppy and you know that all she wants is for somebody to pet her.

Perfection in Flaws

If God is the creator of the universe, and the universe is not perfect, how can God be perfect? Certainly, there appear to be flaws in creation – from disease and war to Donald Trumps’s hair-thing. The question for me is, can something simultaneously be both flawed and perfect?

God and the Meaning of Life

Let’s start with the premise that the universe was created by God. If so, in the beginning there was only God. Everything, therefore, came from God; everything in creation is of God. Because God comprises all that is, we can say that God is infinite. And, since everything that exists is a piece, as it were, of the infinite source of all being, it follows that everything – from the largest system to the smallest single particle – is infinite. This means that all possibility exists within all of us, and within all things that make up the universe. If an apple tree is the universe and from itself that tree creates thousands of seeds, in each seed is the potentiality of the entire tree. In the end, we have to conclude that, as in the beginning, there is only God, and God is us.

This brings up a strange conundrum.

Why God? (and if so, where?)

In the pause between breaths you will find peace. And in that peace, you will find God.

I’ve never been a particularly religious person. Like many kids, I took it seriously when adults told us what God wanted. So, I made sure that we got all of the leavened bread out of the house for Passover. That’s what our particular version of God wanted. As time went on, and my rational mind developed, I saw that many of the precepts and foundational stories of religions were internally inconsistent and just didn’t make logical sense to me.

The Creative Union of the Conscious, Subconscious and Universal Minds

4D flower of life metatron by shaktibonny

Imagine a flat, 2-dimensional world, where everyone and everything exists on a planer surface, able to see all around, except, that is, for up or down. The late 19th-century writer, Edwin Abbott Abbot called such a place “Flatland,” in his novel of the same title. To the inhabitants of Flatland, a square appears to be an impenetrable border. There doesn’t seem to be any way in or out. To a being of three dimensions, the square is open, and its borders are not barriers at all.

Just another poem about the true nature of reality

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All Numbers are One

I discovered today that contrary to common belief,

All snowflakes are completely identical.