Live outside.

Outside of convention. Outside of norms. Outside the status quo and arbitrary lines.

Outside their well-defined petri dish border walls. Outside of yourself and outside their expectations.

Outside in the wild and unencumbered naturesphere.

Live outside in the woods and oceans and jungles and snowfields.

Outside beyond the learned monoliths of societies adrift.

Out beyond the breakers where water weights level off.

Outside of the ticky-tack boxes on hillsides.

Outside where that sun comes from you embrace when it lights your inside spaces.

All throughout our most innovative decades, we have never completely lost sight of the shear humanity of the connections we share. I stand before you now, the product of my network. Built by the hands of the multitude of organisms I sometimes feel apart from. Organism Earth. Organism Universe. The cosmos in a body of flesh. Pieces of me scattered across the vast expanse of non-linear time and space. A vibrating waveform in every pore. Light particles and dark matter. No empty to be filled. No blank space awaiting structure. No emotion to it's own. No separation but of man's creation.

A game of realities. A contemplation of perspectives. A long, drawn-out exhalation cresting it's inverse. In verses of poets gone to depths lie, in silence, the meter of mother and father spirit. Each unto itself, but a reflection to gods and goddesses formed for allegorical theatre. Understanding the whole from within, while playing only a part.

Stand to the star we call Sun and pause in the brilliance of transmission. Love in every language and interpret the scrolls. Bind electrons internal with no thought of the process. In containers of flesh, bone, fluid, muscle, nerve, brain, spirit and heart. In here, the process moves on it's own. An evolution beyond our making. And beyond our understanding.

The process continues. Within us. Without us. No need attempt ask why. Just enjoy the dance and laugh as the changes play.

I alone am a universe of wonder.

Today's Buddha must be extremely pliable and vigilant. To remain present in all aspects of daily life amidst an age of information and connection in real-time, across miles and multitudes of consciousnesses is a tall order.

A Buddha in the modern age of information.

Quite possibly, the here and now has expanded. And as such, quite possibly, the breadth of one's enlightenment has expanded right there in stride with it. Yet, the here and now has always included these consciousnesses from afar. The difference is, now they are amplified. They are more ubiquitous. They become glaringly obvious and much much louder.

How does today's Buddha handle and account for this?

Is it a deeper level to attain or is it the same?

Breath is always the best reminder. The closest of companions. The one true NOW foundation. Forever in step.

To focus here, on breath, will bring you back to the harmony.

After the dust has settled, in the early hours of the brisk evening, by the skipping rock banks of the western most creek, the visceral sound of the call to gratitude can be heard feathering it's way steadily down from the mountain's top.

One might think the mist between would dampen the call's vibration but like a persistent child it rings it's reminder.

Somewhere beyond the fourth wall there exists a sidestep often overlooked in the search for integrity. A wild and natural born consciousness whose only touch of color comes through in altered states. As if to be reserved for moments unscripted like an unknown breath or windswept love affair. This kind of bewildered structure fills a space that acts more like a living lifeform than an empty to be filled

When morning breaks.

Before the yodeling fills the hills.

After the bars have closed and dreams completed.

Before the coffee and before the sausage hits the buttered pan.

After the prolonged goodbyes and the windy road. And after the nighttime laughter.

Before the morning songs of birds. And before the sunbeam breaks the peak of the bluff.

After the long day. And before the ship sinks.

Before the black sage on the dash hits my nose.

Before the first cars of sunrise.

After the mountain cracks let loose. And before the clouds cover the horizon.

Before the cigarette smokes. And after the ocean sleeps.

How many stars do you see?

Do you know what it looks like to watch the headlights of a passing car hug the winding mountain roads in the dark of night?

I have seen the coming and the going of the sightseers.

The passing of the light bearers.

The quandry of the needy. Hoping for one quick glimpse of the vast and nameless.

Like children in a maze. Hunters to the kill. Predators on a slow, thought-out stalk of wonder and amazement.

I have felt the pull of beauty so strong the oceans fill brimful with jealousy. They wake their ancient shores. A relationship so beyond that we know no language with which to describe their want. How simple we must seem - with no back and forth regular enough to satisfy their mission.

I am a hungry fish.

A jealous lover.

A star crossed Romeo.

An ill-fated star.

A disaster.

A natural rock.

A tired and unamused player with little at stake in a game beyond my capacity.

A laughing monarch.

A child.

A born loser in the robe of the victor.

I too have felt the lonesome call of an ocean of want. To touch the land one more time and wish for more. To steep in her wake. Awake in her steady silence.

Envelop me - I am Earth.