The toll gate

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On the road to understanding
there is a tollgate that bars some travellers.
Reason is forbidden and also it’s cousin
rationalisation, as is explanation.

Science bans itself, cast out
into a rational wilderness of its own making
unable to escape its mechanistic view
of a universe beyond its understanding.

So who travel the road beyond the toll gate?
Poets. Painters. Lovers. Artists. The people
who make others uncomfortable.
The odd people who don’t quite fit in.

And of course, all of those who have experienced
a Love and Bliss beyond comprehension,
who have come to know
the name of the Divine.

The bookshelves of my mind

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The bookshelves of my mind
must be tumbled and jumbled
unsteady and cluttered, in urgent need
of repair and refiling or shredding.
How do I know this?
Because on the floor of my mind I constantly
find stray memories that have slipped, though
from which volume I know not.

Some are familiar, picked up and put back
innumerable times, but somehow always finding
their way back out, to flutter unbidden into
my consciousness. Usually embarrassing and
from decades ago. Mixed in amongst, sadness,
friends and family, gone, vanished, but not forgotten.
How rare the happy memories that arise spontaneously.

My antidote to this is simply to count my blessings.
I am what I am, and I am loved. I breathe in the scent of flowers
and feel the wind on my face. And above all of this,
I simply smile and record with joy all the good things
in my life and this world.

And they are many.

The Toll Gate

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On the road to understanding
There is a tollgate that bars some travellers
Reason is forbidden and it’s cousin
Rationalisation, as is Explanation.

Science bans itself, cast out
Into a rational wilderness of its own making
Unable to escape its mechanistic view
Of a universe beyond its understanding.

So who travel the road beyond the toll gate?
Poets. Painters. Lovers. Artists. The people
Who make others uncomfortable.
The odd people who don’t quite fit in.

And of course, all of those who have experienced
Love and Bliss beyond comprehension
Who have come to know
The name of the Divine.

The Compass

Modern compass on a white background

What compass divines
your direction as you pass
through life
from birth to death?

Blind fate, simply casting
the runes that determine
what future lies before each
and every one of us?

Predestination maybe?
The road already marked
that you will blindly follow
believing that you choose?

Karma? The pull of the previous
life, lives, that sweep you along,
atoning, overcoming past failures
moving you ever closer to nirvana?

Free will? You are your own
agent, making choices,
moving hither and thither
as you and only you determine?

Whatever the mechanism
that moves the wheel that moves
us from birth to death,
May you find peace and happiness
In this journey that we all make.

Obscured meditation

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In meditation
You are supposed to
Sit with a quiet mind
And watch the clouds (thoughts)
Pass across the sky
That is your mind

Well I want to know
Who is it that hurls
These thunderstorms
In my direction
And fills my mind
With flashes of lightning
And bolts of thunder?

Who is it that obscures
The blue sky of my mind
If it is not me
Even as I sit and watch
The clouds roll by
And wonder
Who am I?