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Dharma Poems And Other Writings ritings by Michael Erlewine
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Published by: Heart Center Publications 315 Marion Avenue Big Rapids, Michigan www.MichaelErlewine.com (c) 2008 by Michael Erlewine
[email protected] all rights reserved ISBN 9781450522304
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Tis book is dedicated with love to Margaret
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able o Contents Content s Foreword Dharma Poems Just Poems Mantra Poems In and Out Early Poems Short Stu Some Prose Other Publications Newer Additions
7 9 29 49 57 41 67 71 82 84
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Foreword Poetry or me has been a way to record my inner changes and experiences. I don’t write poetry that oten, but when I do it always is in response to some realization or other ot her,, something I am going through that nally becomes clear to me. And I don’t just try to “write a poem.” I use poetry as a way o clariying my experiences, as a way to lock my emerging realization into a orm that can serve to bring to mind again and again the actual experience I am trying to understand. I I can capture the experience in a poem, I know that I have realized something or other about mysel and my lie. And by careully reciting the poem aloud to mysel, by articulating each word with understanding, the idea the poem captures can live again and be present in the mind. Whether others can read my poetry this way, whether the captured vision will be present in the minds o readers, I can’t say. I only know it works or me and I write these poems or my own inner satisaction. Nothing in this world is as satisying to me than realization and a new poem. Tat being said, I hope those who read the poems in this book may enjoy them too. I dedicate any merit o these works to all o the Buddhas, Bodhisattvas, Saints, and sincere practitioners o any aith that they may bring light and realization to all sentient beings. Michael Erlewine, January January 9th, 9th , 2010, Big Rapids, Michigan 7
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Dharma Poems
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Te Rest of the Mind You cannot rest the mind, But you can let the mind rest. Just let go, And don’t mind the rest.
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Beyond Beyond My Expectations Looking at the mind, It’s not what I’d expect. Expectations can’t dene, And you can’t expect to nd. Tat’s the nature o the mind.
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Karma Mirror According to the Dharma: Te world just as I see it is my reection, A perect mirror o the mind, Reecting karma -My every thought and action. Karma is pure result, Te outer reection, O an inner reality, Tat once ripened, Cannot be altered, No matter how careully I choose my words, No matter how right I get my mind, No matter how close I hold my tongue, No matter how slyly I take a peek, I always only see mysel peeking. Te world looks back whenever I look. And clever as I am, Even I can’t sneak up on a mirror. Oct 11-12, 2009
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Last is Best When everything’s orgot, Tat orgetting will allow, Tere is one thing, I’ll always nd again, And that’s the truth, For it will last till then. And truth lasts long, Much longer than the rest. When all is gone, ruth’s last is best. November No vember 20, 2009
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ime to Mind Lost again in the swing o time, I agree to orget, What I nd so hard to remember: Tis moment. Always later, Urged awake by impermanence, I am back again, But arther down the road. ime takes my mind, In small and larger bites. Te little ones, I reconnect and can remember, But the larger gaps, I can only leap across, Guess at, And hopeully learn, o say more in silence, Tan in words. Nov. 20, 2009
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Where Do Toughts Go? My thought does not go anywhere, But away. Where am I?
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rying yi ng o I am too tired rom trying to try, try, From practicing all that I know, I just have to let go or the moment, And sink back into the ow.
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When I Stop to Tink I am always awakened, I never wake up. What I am good at is thinking, I can do it without a thought. Without even thinking, I stop to think. Without thinking “I’m thinking,” I’m already thinking. When I stop to think, I stop thinking “I’m not-thinking.” But even when I think “I’m not thinking,” I’m thinking. Tinking nothing, Is not the same as not-thinking. And when I stop thinking, Is not the same, As when I stop to think. I may not be able to stop thinking, But I don’t have to stop and think.
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Here or Tere When it comes to awakening, One thing is very clear: Beore I’ll ever get there, I have to start right here.
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Te Four Toughts Tat urn the Mind Tis precious lie, Impermanent and brie, I know. My actions keep on piling up, And I can’t quite get my ducks into a row. rungpa said to me, So many years ago, By grasping just one thought or two, We’ll never turn aside. We must, he said, maintain all our, And leave not one behind. Four precious thoughts that touch the heart, Only they can turn the mind.
In the Buddhist tradition, the four thoughts are: (1) Te preciousness of human birth (2) Impermanence (3) Te inevitability of karma (4) Te undependability of Samsara Samsara
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Second Toughts A sudden whi o impermanence, Makes me wince, And breaks my train o thought. What was I thinking? Eyes open, here now again, Contemplating the stream o my own karma. Impermanence, Te smelling salts o the dharma.
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Nothing is Something Tank you, Rinpoche, For pointing something out: out : Tat there is nothing to be pointed out, Tat nothing can be pointed out, Including “Nothing.” ‘Nothing” ‘Nothing” also cannot be pointed out. o me: Tat is really something.
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Rest Home My thoughts, Like birds aboard a ship, I let go ree, As they y away with me. No need to ollow on, And here’s the perect test: Tere is no place to go, All thoughts come back to rest.
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esting estin g the Rest Learning to rest the mind, Really puts my practice to the test, So sometimes I just need to take a break, And simply get some rest.
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ime for Nothing Excuse me or the moment, No matter the reasons why, I just need more time to do nothing, But gaze into clear empty sky.
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From A Dream I have gone to paint the sunrise in the sky, sky, o eel the cool o night warm into day, Te owers rom the ground call up to me, Te sel I think I am is hard to see.
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Never Never Known Kn own I I know, I don’t know I know, And I know I don’t know I know. I don’t know what I would know, I I did know. Tat’s how I know I don’t know. So, I don’t know, I know I don’t know, And I know I know I don’t know. I have never known.
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Seek and Not Find I you nd yoursel, then you are not looking. You will never not-nd-yoursel, unless you look. In other words: I you don’t look, you will nd yoursel, I you look, you will not nd yoursel. Tat is the nature o having no nature.
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Looking At Looking At I’m looking at “looking at.” I’m I’m not looking at what “looking at” is looking at. No, I’m just looking at “looking at.” Tat is: I’m rying to. You see: When I’m looking at “looking at,” It’s not “looking at” I’m looking at, Because: What I’m I’m looking at is also doing the looking at. So: Am I “looking at” or the looking at? .
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Just Poems
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My Poems Poems, A home or my thoughts, Dear thoughts, Te very best o me, All that’s precious and kind, Now sealed in words, Like insects in amber: Prayer Prayer ags endlessly waving, In the gentle chalice o the mind.
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Where Can You You Be? A Poem for my daughter Every sharp edge points out, Tat you are not in now. You have gone away in there, And you don’t want to play. You won’t be out today. I can tell, For the rowns and serious looks, Are all that I can see. Tey keep me rom reaching you, Keep you rom reaching me.
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Te Age of Impermanence Lie is just too kind. It leads us rom our prime, On down a set o gradual steps, Out toward the edge o time. Each step is not a leap, Not near enough to jar, Much Much less awaken me, From age’s age’s ated a ted sleep. And so I drit away, Forget the youth that I once knew, Like yesterday, yesterday, When you were watching me, oday I’m watching you! And lie is not quite perect, It’s every step not smooth, Sometimes I step too ar, And somehow lose the groove. I wake back up, From ast asleep, I peer and look around, And sense the loss, What’s drained away, How ar I have come down.
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But these clear gaps, Te moment’s pause, A day or two at most, Just Just time enough, o put things right, And patch up all the holes. I cling to what I can. With each misstep, I’m let with less, With less I just make do. You know me: Where would I go? I’ll never cut and run. For less is more than any, And any more than none. November No vember 23, 2009
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Who You Are I who you are, Is who you will be, And who you will be, Will be, Who you were, Ten: Who you are, Is not who you are, Or who you will be. So, who are you?
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Imagine What Wh at I Don’ Don’t Know Kn ow Imagining what I don’t know, And I don’t know, I imagine what I don’t know. I know what I imagine, Is what I don’t know, And what I know, Is not what I imagined. Tat much I know. I can only imagine what I don’t know.
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Something For Nothing Expect nothing, Except nothing. Accept something.
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Dreaming the Future In the swim o time, I push my dreams beore me, Like a swimmer pushes waves, Always just out o reach. I am good at dreaming my uture, At pushing things orward, And putting my lie o till then, As i rom time I could borrow. When: Considering my age, oday IS tomorrow.
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Te Point of No Return A Poem for My Daughter Michael Anne Feb 14, 2006 2-4 PM, Grand Sextile Helio
Te point o the “point o no return” is that: When you have reached the point o no return, From which there is no return, Te point is to turn and return. Tat is the turning point. Every lie has a turning point, Whether it’s in the echo o age, Or in the very midst o lie’s prime. As we reach our point o no return, We pause, Ten we turn. And, in turning, we begin to reect. In our reection, And rising into view, Perhaps or the very rst time, Te Sun. Where beore it was we who were seen, And others seeing, Now Now we are the mirror in which they see themselves, And we can see our sel in them. 38
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What we once saw shining beore us, as youths, Tat which we gladly embraced in our prime, And what we now see etched in the mirror o reection, Is our eternal Sel, the Sun, Ever Ever burning in the darkness o our lie. Tat’s it. I understand this. What I nd harder to understand, Yet still believe is: We didn’t know it then; We don’t know it now. We never knew it. In truth, It never was. I NEVER N EVER WAS; WAS; It never will be. It is not now, And still, it is. It still is: Tis most brilliant illusion, Shining in the mirror o the mind. 39
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Short imer I am older now. I have less time, But more o it. I nally have enough, O whatever I was saving or, o make it to the end. And as that end draws near, near, What I need to get there, Grows less with every year. So I can take a break, Even Even chance to look around, o see how you are doing, o know where you are bound. We could even walk together, But here is what is tough, I am only going to the end, And that is close enough.
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Early Poems
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Open I am so round and such so. A treading nally and letting go, As spreading circles open so, An even inward outward ow.
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Parmenides Each to each the sorrow tells: Find another anot her.. Alone is borne the pain, Alone the sorrow, Alone the joy, odays’ tomorrow.
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For Shakespeare Look at yoursel, First yet rst, No better, And yet not worse. Now Now get yoursel together in a bunch, And call what carriage as ye may your hearse.
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Poem to Robert Frost It may be that there is as nothing to spare, Tat what we hold is hardly there, Tat what we share will just sufce, Tat every heart will end in ice. And then again, It may not be.
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No Name My sel surges down, Still seeking sources not spoken o, Grasping too late grips now past, Still insistent on solid searches, When: With moments meaning only may we merge.
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My Apology Ah! Who could let such a bargain pass, As this poor century centur y will allow. allow. On coming in, I’m asked to leave, And when asked to leave, I bow.
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Hard ruth ruth Te pain I carry, Hidden but or its edge, Lies careully holding my old whale heart. Te endless reach o being out, Vanishes in my coming to know you, And you bloom careully in my heart, As I ower this world. No more poetr p oetryy, Te truth is hard enough to take. We are in an endless hell, I I am and i I am not.
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Mantra Poems Poems, the careful reciting of which cause the subject to appear or vivify vi vify..
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Outsetting Song Tat song is sung, Tat singing, Sets inside itsel Outsetting song Tat sings, And singing Sets itsel In song. Song that sang, Which sung, Is singing still.
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Inner Ear What will eager issue out, And into us would enter, So to stare, to stu st u itsel, o eat itsel the center, O what we wait to wither in on, Ater it is all. It eats us out. It only is in every inward eaten, Te echo o an endless ache that arches Hearts hard hearing, And opens up each inner enting, And enters it as out.
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Force of Faith Te orm o orce enorcing orm, Finds Finds reedom rom that orm in act. And in act orced is reed, A orm o orce with aith in orm that nds in act: Faith itsel a orce. Tus, orce nds itsel in orm on aith. And orce enorcing aith in orm, And orm inorming aith o orce, Faith is that orce in orm. Faith is our orm o orce.
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Me, Myself, and I I see mysel, o see my sel, o be: Mysel, o see mysel, o be mysel, o see.
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Te Beginning of the End Te beginning o the end, Which is the end o the beginning, Begins at the end o the beginning, And goes straight to the end. In other words: When beginning ends, Ending begins. Te beginning is not close to the end, But the beginning o the end, Is closer to the end, Tan to the beginning. At the beginning o the end, Te beginning o the beginning ends. Since the beginning o the beginning ends, Will the end o the end, begin? Is ending also a beginning? I so, Te beginning o the end, Is closer to the beginning, Tan is the end o the beginning. I’m counting on that. 54
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Everlasting Life What will in words not wake, Clear sleeps, And clear, sleeps on. What wakes stands watch to see that sleep as sound. What wakes will serve to set asleep, Inset a sleep with standing words, Tat wake, i ever, last. And on that last, in overlay, our lie. Yes, Yes, to lay at the last a lie that ever lives, o ever last that “last” o lie, And in ever lasting lie, everlasting, We have a lie that lives at last.
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In and Out Poems
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Here I Am I am in it all the end, And that’s all, And the ever it’s coming to be, And in me is out, Te shadow o doubt, And the in that is out, Well, Tat’s me!
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ime Out What i at every out I set an in. I said: What i at each out I set on in. And in on in on in on in ... And i on in, I’m lost within? ime is sure to see me out.
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In or Out In is not within the out, And out without the in. No, In is without the out, And out within the in. Sept. 29, 1970
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Nov. 5, 1969 Whether, Tat which is within will out. And when out, with all within, Will out without, within. And then within, With all without, Will out as in. And In, When out, Without an in, Is out when out, And in when In.
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Sense All eyes invite entrance, All ears hear. All lips lie parted.
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Who Cares He went rst, With a willingness, And only last learned, o let his longings linger. He cared, And his care cut past the points o his person, And peered searching at us all.
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Father and Son The son, The ebb tide of the father, Breaks on in the present, Breaks out of the past, Breaks, breaks, And is broken forever. Forever less, And yet no more than the same is certain. The son’s service, Is to stand certain of the father’s sin.
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Easter Sunday 1968 I’ve had enough o other’s cheek! And every edge aches over again, Other rudeness’, rudeness’, Ear ridden.
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Short Stu
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My wide eyes wear their worry.
Waves of shame worried the will, And were winners.
The throb of uid, Forcing the issue to certainty. Worse were the ones, Who hardly felt fate’s air for forgetting.
This star’ star ’s struggle stains, And is stained, And in every sadness, Sees itself sold.
He built his house of Please, In the palace of Pain.
He sold his loneliness very dearly.
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We are happy when we remember, Te oolishness o being sad.
The hour’s heartbreak conceals, The whole of what we have not hated.
Endless birth rom nature, Nurtured by knowing, Nameless Nameless his nature.
Finely wrought or overwrought.
I ght for the light to see the necessity of the night.
Every each only is in ending out.
His tale was told in telling, And in telling it was tolled.
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Old age moulds it’s youth, o play in single streams, Te source o lie, In single beams
What with wit, Will wear and last, Is lost later, Letting ast.
Wind without with all within, Letting loves long labor in.
He could but afrm it all, That was the extent of his power.
All difference is disgured same.
Hard monster that drives a hunger so.
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Some Prose
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Awakening “All I remember is haze — red shiting to orange — as I strained under the th e innite pressure o my past, like a baby being born, and then, through the strain o this labor (so intense that time slowed) in which somehow I was involved, and through that slowness like the head o a child in birth, I crowned, and or the rst time came I, me, a glimpse o my eternal sel — real awareness. I saw mysel. I ound mysel.” “Emerging right up through the top o my head, I was born as through a veil and vale o tears, surrounded on all sides by people living in eternal slowness. ears stood in all our eyes, or I was them — huge catlike creatures, winking and blinking in the slowness o expanded time. We moved together in this, the rhythm o our birth, rising and alling like the cry o some great beast. Living was so slow that it took orever. We were all, together, one, born out o suering, born out o and beyond time itsel, born through a veil o tears, itsel an endless rain.” rain.”
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“And I remember one white-hot-ash-like-elecwhite-h ot-ash-like-electric blast that went dead in my mind. I could never have it happen twice. I “was” absolutely not (as i all stopped), and then it started again. And ater, ater, I wavered, awash like a ower on the sea — a lotus. And as I ound aith in my new awareness, I rose above time in knowledge o mysel, in this new awareness. And as I lost that aith, accidents o a deathly kind became very possible. It was not subtle.” “Tere was I, born again and living, alive in a world that I never really knew and that knew me not at all. I was still in the world, but I was no longer o that world. Like a newborn child, I searched everywhere or those who would recognize me and welcome me alive. Mine was a back-room birth, enacted in a century that could no longer aord to act out a drama as old as time itsel. ” Exerpt from the book: Astrology of the Heart: Astro-Shamanism
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Relieved “o be relieved, nished, the one thing I had never expected. expected. Maybe at lie’s lie’s long end o eighty eight y or ninety years, sure; it might make sense. But now, in the prime o my powers, in the middle o my lie? o be relieved o duty? Are you kidding me?” “No one ever told me about it. I heard no talk o it. I didn’t read about it anywhere. Am I the only one? Am I to remain silent? Who is even interested? No one seems to notice.” “Relieved o duty in the middle o the war, I must be a traitor. I must have made some terrible mistake, to be relieved. I mean, I looked orward to a lie long-lled with searching and suering. And now this, this terrible guilt o non-involvement, o really not caring like I used to care, and I would rather die than not care. Caring did not mean love to me; it meant worry and suering continued. o be careree, this I never thought to ask or. I had lost my edge, my suering.” “It is like someone turned o the engine, as ar as we personally are concerned. All at once, this great silence and sense o peace, and when you rst begin to hear the silence, it terries. We We can now see younger persons still driving and pushing their thei r birth, birth, yet we don’t don’t eel that tha t old drive dri ve as we once did.” 74
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“Tere is the eeling that we are somehow washed up, nished. We We have lost that old drive or “thing” which made us, ourselves. And all o this unspoken about, unmentioned in public conversation, simply ignored. As I can see, many just cannot accept this change, and wander stunned in a stupor and state o shock or years, or ll their lives with noise and activity — anything to drown the sense o silence and rest that they eel.” “Lited out o our lie’s sorrow, we reuse to acknowledge the incredible and obvious lightness o being we now eel. Unburdened, Unburdened, enlightened, we eel no gravity or weight. Up until now, lie beckoned and lured me running ast through time’s meanings. What does it mean? What does it all mean? Where is it all leading to? What exactly is the point? And then, this: Silence.” Silence.” Exerpt from the book: Astrology of the Heart: Astro-Shamanism
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It Came to Pass “No matter what you think about me, about my person, I know in time you will learn to recognize me as yoursel, and you will love me, as I have learned to love mysel, as I have learned to love you, like it or not. My person has not changed. How could it, truly? For person is the product o time, and my person — like a reight train — rushes on at the uture. It always has. Only I, stepping o my person, am with you now.” “I am mysel. I turned o time’s endless matter at thirty thir ty.. I dropped my m y body or sense sen se o gravity gravi ty.. It proceeds on without me or rather: with my perpetual care and love. But I am not only my person. I am, as well, one with the creator o my body, o any body.” “My aith inorms me. Each day’s passage rees and reveals my past, ‘presents’ my past, and clears it open. Where beore was but an endless accumulation, layer on layer, is now removed with every passing day. And as the layers lit, it is clear to me that there is nothing there worth worrying. All the past lives I have are presently living, are become clear.
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“Nothing to go back to, no place to hide, no cover.” “I am born ree, held awake by all that lives. Where beore I could not keep my eyes open, so now I cannot shut or close them. No closure. From my subconscious pours my past. Cloudiness clearing, it is my present. My placenta is being born, turning out all o that which nourished me.” “I can clearly see all that clouds this stream o consciousness is but a searching, is itsel but a rowning, a looking to see, a pause, a hesitation that, caught and unurled in the eddies o time, t ime, nding nothing, becomes clear and, laughing, I leave it go clear and turn rom a darkening or dimming o my mind to light. And it came to pass, and I let it pass.” Exerpt from the book: Astrology of the Heart: Astro-Shamanism
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A Clear Sleep is Soft “Te morning’s brightness lights the day. And when that day is gone, the quietness o evening here approaching settles to sleep this restless world. Hard can I hear the rantic rush, as I turn away rom the edge out into oating rest am I. It is not my conscious direction doing this, but as a head down-turned all lie now turns up a blossom to the night, the night o time urges me open, at last a ower too, open to lie. Already the dawn.” “Still, around me, urging caution, a retinue o persons set my spirit, like a jewel is set, in time. But where beore my worry, now my rest. Te tide rolls on beyond me. Ever changing, it rocks me now asleep. And in my sleep, awake am I, so clear a bell is ringing.” “Te smart o persons lash and crack to drive me at time’s edge. My personal ties are slipped, as oating oat ing out, out , I’m I’m gently tugged. tugged . oo long have h ave ought to orce my thought, and not, at ease, arising like some cloud to pass. My work undone, yet done, I rise. Driting through strains, I sieve, and pass mysel, open out to nothing thoughts to touch back not once more.
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“A clear sleep is sot, its ever blooming sound is silence. Now to nd my way among the slips o time. And slip I will, now lost to striving, and lounge in this room o emptiness. o lie back in time, behind its edge, and ever look eternally. No way to pass this on. Tis is: passing on. Slamming against the walls o time, I shove o into eternity, and spread open a ower, so wide.” Exerpt from the book: Astrology of the Heart: Astro-Shamanism
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Other Publications Publications
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Books by Michael Erlewine Available Available in paperback through online sales.
Interface: Planetary Nodes 288 pages, 233 illustrations Local space: Relocation Astrology| 207 pages, 140 illustrations ibetan Earth Lords: ibetan Astrology and Geomancy 223 pages, 156 illustrations Astrology’s Mirror: Full-Phase Aspects 191 pages, 145 illustrations Our Pilgrimage to ibet 260 pages, 112 photos Burn Rate: Retrogrades in Astrology 1000 pages, 153 illustrations Mother Moon: Astrology of ‘Te Lights’ 447 pages, 304 illustrations Interpret Astrology: Te 360 3-Way Combinations 415 pages, 360 illustrations Interpret Astrology: Te House Combinations 332 pages, 276 illustrations
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Interpret Astrology: Te Planetary Combinations 850 pages, 765 illustrations Astrology of the Heart: Astro-Shamanism 532 pages, 450 illustrations Te Astrology of Space 512 pages, 162 illustrations Starypes: Starypes: Life-Path Partners 753 pages, 230 illustrations How to Learn Astrology 1100 pages, 950 illustrations Te Art of Feng Shui 563 pages, 500 illustrations ibetan Astrology 827 pages, 579 illustrations In addition, Michael Erlewine has authored/edited many books on music and lm, not listed here. Te author can be reached at Michael@ Erlewine.net. Also see: ACAstrology.com AstrologySotware.com, MichaelErlewine.com
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Mind Practice Not an option, But a reuge, Less painul than: Anywhere else. Feb. 14, 2010 ibetan new Year of the Iron iger
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Post Meditation I I am practicing all the time, When will I have time to practice?
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Rinpoche Just Just as in that dream o sleep you came, Urging me awake, So too, in this dream o lie, You You awaken me rom the nightmares night mares o ignorance. On rst meeting, At rst glance, You showed me compassion, Introducing me to mysel. I wandered or days wrapped in your blessing. Yet, due to my weak practice, I could not hold that state or long. Still, Having known such kindness, I no longer chase ater imitations. You You are the bright star in the night o my obscuration, obsc uration, Always showing me the way to the precious Dharma, Guiding me back to mysel. You are indeed a precious one. Rinpoche.
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MEANING MEANIN G O KNOW Feb. 7, 2010 Your words (or mine), Depend on what they mean. Meaning is only a reerence, A simple reerral, Like pointing toward: Somewhere else. In other words, Meaning is only as good, As the sense it makes, As in: Does it make sense? Meaning itsel, Is not meaningul. It makes no sense. It is not like ‘being’. Only we can make sense. Meaning points to: Experience, But only i ‘we’ go. It is the only way to know.
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Toughts Make Sense Toughts come. I the thought is nonsense, I can’t keep it in mind. Forget it. However, I a thought makes, Any kind o sense, Has any kind o meaning, I usually ollow it. It’s my train o thought. Yet ‘meaning’ in itsel is, Nothing, A reerence, Pointing toward or at, Te sense a thought makes. Toughts can only make sense.
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DHARMA POEMS
And sense, Is an experience, Tat every thought will take me to, A journey I am always on, Mini-incarnations, Te sum o which, Add up to a lie, O endless just not-knowing. Te Dharma says: Realize the nature, O the thought, Not the content. Seeing the true nature, O any thought, Ends the thought right there, Breaks its link to the senses, Causes no karma to arise, And brings about awareness. Tis is why I meditate.
April 21, 2010
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DHARMA POEMS
Water and the Well Te rare times, When nothing moves me, And I don’t eel, Like doing anything. Perhaps this is some kind k ind o, Natural meditation, An eortless detachment, From my day-to-day day-to-d ay world. All that is missing, From just being lazy, Is this awareness, O my own condition. I don’t waste time, Pretending to be busy, But just sit there, And or a long time. Nothing is missing.
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DHARMA POEMS
Watch a movie, Read a book, Sit, or not, It makes no dierence. I am right here. Te mind is at rest, Te water back in the well. - Michael Erlewine, February 15, 2010, New Moon, New Year Year o the Iron iger iger
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DHARMA POEMS
IME OU February 17, 2010 In the middle o time, Without a thought, It comes,(Not at lie’s end), Like the tide coming in. I had planned, o get away rom it all. oo late, Now, For retreat; Distance is close, Far is now near. Motions are going, Every which way, Striking me dumb. I’ll speak while I can. Te rest I am seeking, Overtook me; It’s It’s already a lready here!
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DHARMA POEMS
And it’s: Precious, Precious: Stillness in chaos, Silence in sound.
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DHARMA POEMS
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