All posts by Gyandeva

Gyandeva is a seeker, pathological meditator, a veteran firefighter and rescue tech, a poet, a blogger (new site) & writer. More importantly, he is a father of three—meaning he is also a lecturer, teacher, chef, order taker, taxi driver, coach, mentor and aspirin addict—and has found applying spiritual practices to all aspects of life provides a vast amount of possibility and abundance. While not adhering to any one religion, his practice of spiritual expression has shown that there is a unity in all things (even religions) and that in that unity we can find that Oneness in ourselves even as we enjoy the individual expression of that unity we are. You can also connect with Gyandeva on Twitter and on Facebook. Give his blog a Facebook hug at Tom Grasso, Writer.

my Sweet Affinity

How much is too much
Of me?
How much can you hear?
How much can you see?
How much can you bear 
Of me, my Sweet Affinity? 
Which time is the last time
You’ll be
Smiling at my words?
Wanting to hear from me?
Oh how much can you bear
Of me, my Sweet Affinity?
Which moment gives the rest
A loss of dignity?
When I don’t exist at all
In the Sunrise that you see?
Oh how much can you bear
Of me, my Sweet Affinity?
I pray, I struggle and look for signs
Or a simple, golden key
To unlock a moment’s saving grace
To set the question free
Just how much can you bear 
Of me, my Sweet Affinity? 

I F*cking Love You {Adult Language}

You touched me there
And I awakened
The light inside of me burst to the heavens above
God Herself took notice
And smiled…
I try to find the words
To describe this feeling
The only thing that seems to do this justice
The only thing that comes out of me 
I fucking love you
I love your face
I love your eyes
I love your hair
I love your smile, your wit, your state of Being
I love your voice
I love your skin
I love your …well, you know
I love your intelligence
I love your teeth
I love your legs
I love your…yeah that too
I love your back
I love your neck
I love your arms, your shoulders
I love your feet
I love your knees
Yes, I love that…damn.
I love fucking love you
I love your passion
I love your devotion
I love your brain
I love your ability to swim as I try to drag you under
I love your strength
I love your heart
I love your mind, your way of thinking
I love your sensibility
I love your commitment
I love that you’ve survived
I love what you know and what you don’t
I love learning when you are my teacher.
Yeah, I fucking love you.
I love how you put me in my place
And how it is always a place much higher
Than I ever thought I should be.
Yeah, I fucking love you.
So I’ll close my eyes and drift to dream
Knowing that you know
Feeling that you feel
Believing that you believe.
So when you touch me there again
And I awake
I can whisper in your ear the phrase I know you long to hear
I fucking love you.

Love’s Own Forgiveness

You can fee the icy stare of sin glare at you from some unlit corner of your mind. It looks not at you, but through  you, using the attachments you have to your own judgments against you even as those rights and wrongs of yesterday pile on top of your chest like an avalanche of jagged stones.  Your mind takes you away to some place you’ve been before, haunting you with a memory or two of what was versus what was supposed to be.  You falter, you fall, and you look up for mercy.

The stare continues.  You don’t dare stare back for the monster will devour you whole.  You look away, usually down, toward some invisible savior that will rescue you and take you away from it all.  None comes as you try to sneak away from look, from the sin, from the very idea you gave birth to the moment you sought to hate yourself.

There is no sneaking away as the beast grabs you from within and hauls you to some magical courtroom in your mind.  There voices from a past not just yours will serve as judge and jury while you play the role of your own executioner.  You wonder if you will ever escape, but you know in your heart that only a miracle can keep you from the gallows you are constructing.  You have feared.  You have suffered.  Now, you will die for it.

This sin pretends to be a mortal wound, and you pretend to be a mortal sinner.  You fall into line just as you were taught.  You see the evils that men and women do as a truth not unique to them, but universal to all.  You feel the rush of fear-turned-anger rise up from somewhere within you and spill out of you everywhere.  You see ghosts masquerading as Now replaying the same old stories in your head, telling the same old lies as if this time they will come true.  So you make them true regardless of their validity.  You cast a stone in the direction of a sinner who has committed no sin save being the one you love enough to fear.

Hhhhmmmmm.  This grunt betrays a new understanding of the ignorance within me.  I can see it as plain as the skin on my hand as it plays with me, teasing me as if I was some child and it had the only ball in town.  I chuckle back, your days are numbered my old foe, and I will be coming to root you out of my Soul and replace you with an unbridled sureness in the One I love.  I have a long road to walk, a mighty field to sow with something other than the weeds I have long planted.  Yet I have the tools and the support from her to do so, to not only replant this field but to live long enough to reap a bountiful harvest.  I just must know, and feel, and share.  The dream is worth it even as it sprouts Now a hope my lungs inhale with each passing breath.

That is the beauty of Love’s forgiveness.  No sin is too great, no trauma too devastating and no beast too strong to escape a touch from the one you love.  No mountain is too tall or forest too thick to hide from the her loving gaze.  When it’s there, you know it, and you will soon desire a new path beyond the torments of then.  This path leads to the beautiful shores of Now, where you eat of the mangoes and dance in the soaked sands you have come to call home.

Embrace that and know that you have found exactly what you are looking for.  Relish in her steadfastness and belief in you, and do not stray from the line of footsteps she has given you to follow.  You will be grateful one day, and you will know that the sin and the sinner only existed in your mind.  Then you set them free, in Love’s own forgiveness, and never hear from them again.

Our Love Heals

Photo by: David N Cooper









When I met her I felt I must be dreaming.  I had to blink once, twice, a million times or more before I finally saw her as real.  This great dream came true before my eyes, in my arms, now, then, forevermore.  I still, a lifetime or two later, have trouble believing what I see, feel, or want to be true.  I need to heal.

She smiled and the Sun rose above the horizon, exposing a fog lightly hugging the fragments of my life.  I could see the firm ground where there was firm ground, but beyond that I could see a fine, white mist hiding parts of me I simply never wanted to admit existed.  There was a fear there, a timely loss of awareness born as she slowly burnt away the veils that hid what laid beneath.  Cracks in solid ground appeared as she dusted off those parts of me I had always felt and had always tried to forget.  There would always be a shaky patch of ground in the otherwise solid earth, and she sought through no ill will to expose all of it.  It was who she was, without excuse or apology.

Let’s not fool ourselves.  There is a price to be paid for burning away the shrouds a man has donned in order to find security in this life.  Fear shows itself to be a devil’s tool, a torture for the minds of even the strongest of men.  Take me on physically, and I will stand firm.  Challenge my fortitude and you will find layer after layer of a stone wall built by years of facing the shit thrown at me.  Seek to find a trust from me and find a fear that can often create a Mr. Hyde running through the streets of our life.  Even the most docile of creatures can become vicious when you touch their wounds, and I am no different.  I don’t mean to react, I don’t want to react. Yet I flinch when the pain arrives and I suffer the moment I realize I have reacted.

These wounds are a strange thing.  They are there, and they speak whispers whenever I flex the area around them.  I’ve learned to ignore the whispers, but they become shouts the moment they are poked.  There is my Beloved, running freely in the fields with me until she pokes unwittingly.  I react, I pounce on my tormentor without ever realizing who is actually doing the tormenting.  It is not her, it is me.  I have not yet learned to ignore the wave of pain or the sinister thoughts that suggest she is somehow to blame for it.  I cannot stop it, I cannot change it, I simply ride that wave as it crashes all around me often sweeping her up in the carnage.  I try with all my might to stop it, but I am no match for the wall of water that has, by now, dwarfed even its creator in size.  I simply stand by like a child as it destroys the landscape, ending the run and the freedom as the once-pristine fields become a muddy swamp of lost promise and torturous memory.

All of this because she unknowingly swept away the mist and touched the wound that laid beneath it.  The ground shook and the wave came, and now if I am lucky we stand before each other locked in a steady gaze.  A part of me feels grateful for her survival, for our survival, and a part of me seeks to protect her from further inundation.  I want to take her to higher ground and leave her there, in tears, so that she may never have to swim for her life again.  I am unsure and like a child again searching for her arms, her breast, her soothing voice.  The tears I cry are hidden by the salty remains of the wave I let loose on the world, but they are there.  Sometimes best cried in solitude, other times best hidden, especially from the parts of me that want to let them flow.

I know I have nearly drowned in myself, and I don’t want to take her down with me.  I want her to leave, but I don’t have the guts to ask her to.  I need her, the Sun, the Moon, the Stars as clearly as I need the breath inhaled upon rising from the wave’s remains.  Where she stands is steady ground, and I want so desperately to be there.  Yet my feet are stuck in the mud of my own design, and even as she demands me to “walk” I can’t even lift my leg.  I stare at her, often hiding the grip of helplessness and fear that dominates my mind.  “Please don’t leave me” I utter to her in words she will never hear.

She gives it to me.  She gives me her embrace, her breast, her soothing voice.  I exhale as if the air itself is burning my insides, but it is not.  It was simply holding me up like the man I was taught to be, and without it I collapse into her completely.  She accepts me.  She loves me.  And I am home.

I want her to love me, and soon I will forget this miracle.  Another wound will be touched at some other time.  Another wave may come, another time of reaching for her will arrive.  I will touch her wounds, and a wave will hit me square in the face as she reaches for me.  We both survive by loving the place where we stand together, strong and immovable even in the brutal face of human nature.  The waves come so that we can experience each other after the crash, and in that experience we are healed.

I want her vulnerable even if she tries to hide it well.  I want her to collapse into me after the storm as she exhales her strength into the void between us.  I want her to need me, want me, and know that I am there.  I don’t offer more than to suggest that I will be vulnerable if only to her.  I will collapse into her waiting arms and embrace her with whatever strength I have remaining.  I will need her, want her, and know that she is there.  The power of that awesome place we stand is found when the waves come, and together we face the storm and survive it knowing something that most may never see.  There is a safe place.  There is a harbor here.  There is a heart that beats for you and arms built to embrace you even when you are soaked to the bone.  Especially when you are soaked to the bone.  You will find warmth.  Yes, you, too, are home.

Imagine such a place called “home”.  Imagine even a single piece of ground so steady and strong as to survive all things.  Imagine a Love so real as to know humanity and Divinity in the same place at the same time.  Then close your eyes and see her and know that it is real.  Feel it in the essence of the man you are embracing the woman she is.  Feel its power.  At that moment you realize that you did not choose it, it chose you.  You are powerful and powerless all at the same time just as you are in all of this existence.  You fight it in your humanity and surrender to it in your Divinity.

Now you see it.  The scars begin to heal.  The wounds no longer matter.  You freely expose the tenderness that makes you the man you are.  You allow the tears that form in the corners of your eyes at the sight of her to freely spill onto your face.  You have found your true strength that goes beyond the physical prowess you have developed and the mental rigidity you have been taught.  There is a firmness there, on that ground you share with her, and you will not relinquish an inch of it to fear.  You no longer see yourself as “just a man” and you realize you can stand up to the wave.  True strength does not show itself as that rigid, emotionless, tough man you were taught to be.  Rather, it shows itself in Love, compassion, and an unbridled devotion to be who you are outside of who you were taught to be; who you have chosen to be.

Want to know what strength is?  Cry in front of a crowded room.  Wear your heart on your sleeve.  Surrender to the woman who shares your love.  Forget.  Forgive.  Love.  That’s where real strength is shown.  Remember.  Don’t ever forget who you are in spite of what they told you.

Your love will heal you.  You love will heal it all.  Just trust, and you will see.


photo by:

The Unkempt Man

A man walked into church one day.  He looked haggard, tired, unkempt and his clothes were unwashed and wrinkled as if he had slept in them for days.  He could not help but notice the stares of the congregation as he moved to a pew near the back of the building.  He could not help but feel their disdain for him as he took his seat and removed his worn and battered baseball cap.

One woman seated directly in front of him whispered to her friend loudly enough to make herself heard by the man.  “Have you ever seen such a sight?  That man has no respect for anyone! Just look at how he came to church.  I can’t believe it!”  Her friend offered no reaction or judgment.

“My dear,” replied the man.  “I have the utmost respect for you.  In fact, I saved your life once.”

For some reason, the woman’s mind traveled back to a time when she sat alone in her bedroom with a bottle of sleeping pills in her hand and a picture of her dead husband in the other.  As she contemplated taking her life, her deep despair lifted and she felt a calm and loving presence sweep over her.  “You are loved, you are needed.  Lift yourself up off your bed and share yourself with the Universe” came a voice from somewhere.  She just could not tell where.

She put the picture down, and as she did she knocked over a small vase.  The single rose it carried fell to the floor.  As she picked it up, she remembered the time when her husband had given it to her just a few days before his accident.  She held it for a moment, and then placed it down next to the picture of him.  Both the picture and the rose would make it inside her husband’s coffin later that day.

Back in the present moment, the woman stared straight ahead at the empty altar at the front of the church as the man continued.

“Do not let my appearance make you forget who I am.  Do not see my clothing as a sign of anything.  Do not judge me for what I wear or how I appear, but for who I am.  I saved you for this purpose.

Rather, see those who taught you to judge as in need of your Love.  Those who see wrinkled clothing as a testament to truth need to see the reality of their condition.  Those who taught you that the veils mattered more than the core are in need of forgiveness.”

The woman remembered the feeling and the tears that flowed when she left the room and saw her children.  She cried openly then as they hugged her and told her how much they loved her.  Yes, Love.  It saw her through her suffering.

“Yes,” said the man.  “That’s what you need to share.  That’s the feeling that matters most.  You can now leave this building, for you have found God’s house.  It is where that feeling resides.”

Tears flowed down the woman’s face as she slowly turned to see the man.  As her eyes made their way to the spot where he had taken his seat just moments ago she saw that no one was there.  The seat was empty save a single rose laying alone on the wood.

Miracles happen daily.  Some we see and most we don’t.  Embrace Love, it’s the only miracle you’ll need.

photo by: dunikowski

A Conversation of Love







My friend you ask such a wonderful question!  Let me try to answer you in the only way I can.  Let’s be still for a moment…

My Soul knows.  In some respects It has always known.  Before my mind could question a thing my Soul knew.  Before I could form words or understand their meaning my Soul understood.  Before the concepts of time and space took hold in me my Soul felt her presence.  When I learned to crawl I was crawling towards her. When I learned to walk and to run she was the finish line.  Before I could read or write I had already written the book of her in my heart.  Each experience of this life has led me toward her, the woman I’ve known a thousand lifetimes and loved since the dawn of my Soul’s creation.

I cannot explain how it feels when I look at her, when I see her face.  I cannot explain why my heart jumps when I see her smile, or feel her fingers snake between my own.  I can’t explain the welling up in my eyes at the very thought of her.  I can’t explain or describe any of it, but I know it’s there and I know it is my Soul talking to me clearly.

And although my mind may not always be satisfied with the answers it gets.  It may not always like what it sees.  It may not always have faith.  It may not always have blind trust in the woman who inspires such Love in me.  But my Soul, ah my Soul, well It always knows who she is.  My Soul always sees the light of Love radiate from the clouds my mind has created.  Those rays of love warm even the coldest parts of me, and even when my mind creates things that don’t exist or focuses on those human things that do, my Soul always feels those rays of light and always knows they’re there.  They are the meaning of it all.

That is why I love her my friend.  Not because of some need of my body or mind, but because my Soul wills it to be.  Because my Soul knows, as It always has and always will.  When I close my eyes for that final time and breathe my last, my Soul will still be with her, and Its heart she will carry into whatever place she travels next.  She is not perfect in this form but my Soul bears her name regardless of where my body or mind take me.  That is Love, my friend.  It is a Mindful, mindless, pure and simple Love that encompasses all of who we are.

What a gift it has been to have it, and what a gift it has been to see it at work.  Each tear a gift unto itself; each twitch of pain a confirmation of the simple truth of Love often left complicated by a mind seeking to explain it.  In letting go, however, in leaving the mind to its quieted place behind the Soul if even for a moment, you will see it clearly.  You feel it, you have no doubts as It carries you beyond your mortal place into a Heaven best left secret to Lovers.  Yes, it is in your midst and you can’t see it only because you have failed to look with your Soul but rather chosen to look with your mind’s eye.  Forget the mind for a moment and see It in all of Its glory.  That is Love, that is power, and that is her.  Now, take her hand and walk into the Sunrise and never look back again.

When Your Soul Cries

The first time my Soul wept for Her was the moment I was born.  Our Souls were once together, wandering across the Universe free from our minds and our stories.  Then, in a moment’s folly, I was born into the world without Her.  A piece of my Soul was lost, a hole was created and a baby cried in fits of sadness as my Soul wept bitterly at the loss.

The mind forgets, sometimes soothed by a mother’s embrace.  It is from here our stories begin and we lose sight of the loss our Souls feel.  We experience.  We find love; the kind of love that satisfies our bodies and our mind.  Still our Souls are lonely, looking for the One who shared a dance across the openness of the Universe once upon a time.

In reality I found Her.  We danced, we touched, we Loved and we knew.  Our Souls embraced and our bodies followed.  Our minds responded with meek translations of the song our Souls were singing.  The Universe responded with joy.  Then the mind, the stories we had created from the moment we were born, invaded.

Now, it has ended, or so it seems.  I feel like a grenade just went off next to my head.  I stare blindly out into space, as a numb ringing invades my mind.  Nothing seems real as I gaze through eyes clouded by the tears I wish would end.  I walk aimlessly, unsure of my direction and confounded by the waves of emotion hitting me from all directions.  I am not even sure if I am alive as I wonder aloud through the haze “is this hell?”

I stumble.  I fall.  I feel pain shoot through my knee as the carpet of my living room tears at my skin.  I can’t react, the rest of me feels numb.  I try to get up but the cross I am carrying is just too heavy.  I look for her, I reach into the empty space around me and I know.  A part of me has died.

I know it will get better.  I know that the pain will end.  What I am unsure of is whether or not the space inside of me will ever feel full again.  I just couldn’t make her happy, I just couldn’t control the demons inside of me.  She gave me what she could, but it wasn’t enough.  No, it was enough, I was just forgetting how great it was.  I saw the past as now, and it tossed a grenade at me that I just let explode as if frozen for reasons as unfathomable as they are unknown.

I “motherfuck” myself.  Why couldn’t I have felt this way before I shared my wounds with her?  I get angry, and that anger lifts me up, cross and all, and carries me to a mirror.  I yell at myself.  I call myself names.  I want to beat the fuck out of the moron I see.  Why. Couldn’t. You. Just. THINK?  Breathe?  Practice?  Know?

Then it hit me.  I will be free from the emotional pain in time.  My body will no longer ache for her one day.  I will find someone who makes me laugh and who takes care of my physical needs.  I know that part will get better with the passing of days but I am not happy in the discovery.  Instead, my Soul starts to weep uncontrollably.

The tears flow down my face as my body crumples to the floor.  My hands are soaked with the salty stains of a Love lost.  I may replace the body and the emotions, but my Soul may never feel Itself again.  It had never before, and perhaps that one moment of Truth in a lifetime of moments had just escaped me.  I let it go because I could not control my fear.  So now I simply suffer.

My Soul cries out to Its Mate, this time there is no reply.  The Song has ended, the Stream no longer flows in this direction.  The lake I once bathed in freely is now a cracked and dried scar reminding me of what once was.  The Sun, the Moon, the Universe Itself seem to be crying with me.  Nothing has color, the breeze no longer blows gently across my brow.  I stare at the hands that once held the Dream and curse them for ever letting go.

Yes, my Soul will weep.  Uncontrollably at times.  My body and mind will carry on as I return to the time when my Soul walked alone.  This time, however, I know the solitude as I feel the wasted promise shoot through my heart.  I know She was out there…waiting and wanting and being.  I know She is out there now, hurting, crying, wishing it all away.  I wonder if Her Soul is crying too, and screaming out for me as I scream out for Her.  I wonder…I know…I can almost feel Her here.

One day my Soul will be free.  Perhaps in that release She will find me.  Unencumbered by the mind we will be free to dance again across the Universe together.  Maybe this time we’ll stay put and dance the dance forever.  Or maybe we will find ourselves once again as babes, crying as our Souls weep for the loss as our minds begin a new creation.  Maybe…

Making Love Work

We’ve settled in next to our Lover.  We kiss, we cuddle, we make love until we have nothing left in our bodies to give.  We are blessed by wave after wave of bliss as we give of ourselves and take of our Lover.  We gaze, we touch, we feel and we share of ourselves in a way we have never before.  We have found our Heaven and we need nothing outside of it.

We are One with each other.  We can feel the power of the mind, body and soul intertwined in a Holy dance.  Each kiss a testament of some Holy verse never written, never spoken but Universally known just the same.  No prayer brought us here.  It is the prayer itself we utter with each sound of our ecstasy, and God Itself exists where we are not as some judgmental old man portrayed on a wall but as the indescribable state of Being we have found in each other.  We are in our Paradise, our land of milk and honey, our Garden of Eden.

And then we eat of the apple.

The morning Sun shines and we awaken as man and woman once again.  We don our fig leafs in various forms and we hide ourselves from the very God who blessed us.  Slowly the veils are refreshed in our minds as we listen to the serpents tells us our stories of woe, creating the reality by which we live and in which we become who we think we are.  I become “man” with my story and she “woman” with hers.  We begin to taint the milk and honey with a bitterness that would not exist without our introduction.  We begin to see the then in the now, the there in the here and completely change the landscape.  The view hasn’t changed, the way we see it has.

Soon the lush vegetation begins to wither as the salty waters of our tears pollute the Garden.  We begin to pull out the flowers with the weeds, and throw the good out with the bad.  We hear the voices from our conditioning rise up within us and tell us a story that does not mesh with the one our Love suggests is true.  Our wounds open and we cry out in a searing testament to what was, often forgetting what is.  We become the blinded Cain who forgets that yes, we are each other’s keeper.

Imagine the perfect Heaven we have found in the Mindless act of pure Love destroyed by the hell we have created in the mindful act of reliving pain.  Yes, the very God we have found in our moments of Heaven throws us out of our Garden, never to return.  We curse the serpent, but it us who has created it.  We curse the apple, but it was us who chose it.  We curse the very Garden that brought us pleasure, but it was us who polluted it.  Love never forgot, we forgot Love and in that Mindless moment of fear we set it all on fire and watched it burn.

Yes I have.  Yes I did.  And yes I have the burns to prove it.

I wish it was as easy as knowing all of this.  Yes, I can see it all from the safe distance of my memory and yes, I can still smell the smoke tear apart my senses.  Sure, I know all of this but when the fear takes over the knowing is often forgotten.  You believe you know something else and believe that the apple is really what you want.  The serpent whispers loudly in your ear, telling you that the past is here and now, and that this is just like that.  You forget Heaven and relive hell.  You begin the search for proof that the serpent is lying, that the whisper isn’t real regardless of how real it once was.  Yes, you know that you are dreaming but the dream seems more real than the reality you see.  Truth becomes fiction and fiction become truth.  Worse, you just can’t seem to help yourself.

You are, I am, Forgetting

Then you become the wound, not just a wound on you but also a wound on your Lover.  You create fear where none existed.  You turn smiles into tears and laughs into cries.  You don’t mean to, you are just responding to the whisper, but you can’t help but share the pain within you.  You fail to remain Mindful, and instead dive into a pool of Mindless ambition where you do nothing but forget.

You think you are remembering.  You think the wrongs inflicted on you in some distant life are protecting you.  You believe that you are remembering.  You are not.  You are forgetting.  You are forgetting everything that matters to you in this moment and replacing it with the nightmare of hells lived long ago.  You are bringing fire to the Pearly Gates, and you are burning all that you Love.  You are wrecking it by forgetting.

You even forget to breathe.  You forget your mantra.  You forget your dedication.  You forget how awesomely wonderful it felt to be surrounded by your Lover.  You cast darkness into the light, and break windows with a stone hammer of forgetting who and what you are.  You can only see what once was as if you are dreaming some truth but in reality you are forgetting the truth.  You are leaving reality behind.

Had you truly been able to remember you would have breathed.  You would have settled down.  You would have tasted the sweet nectar of the fruit in front of you and left the bitterness of the old stuff behind.  Your peach would not have become a lemon, your wine not vinegar.  You would have seen what was around you and not what was behind you.  You would have embraced what was there now and forgotten what hurt you then.

Making Love Work

So, are we doomed to reliving hell?  Yes, in some part we are.  We are a sum of our experiences, and we are spiritual Beings having a human experience that begins at conception and ends with the moment we often call “the present”.  Yet, even as we are a sum of our experience we need not become a slave to it.

This has been the part I often forget in my daily life.  Yes, I have experienced a lot in my life and yes, those experiences are a part of me.  I have seen transformation and experienced the pains of that metamorphosis.  Yes, all of this is “me” and I have a memory.    It seems to me, however, that I have too often become a slave to the very things that have hurt me in this experience.  I see the pain and not the happiness too often in my life.  I hear the whisper of the past more clearly than I hear the song of the Love I feel in the present.  I let the nightmare dictate my reality, and this is where a man must draw the line if he wishes to end the suffering and become One with the Love and the Lover.

It’s a choice, and it must be made.  How do we make it?  How do we flip the switch and end the grip that our pasts have on our nows?

Well, the answer seems to me to be meditation and awareness.  See, the pain of the past (for me) has created a condition similar to the reaction Pavlov’s dogs got at the sound of the bell.  Yes, I know the stimulus and I know the reaction.  I can see the bell ringing and I know I am about to start drooling.  So, it would seem I need to change the reaction the bells create in me.

That happens through using the awareness and meditating on the response I wish to have. I’ve done that a lot in my life, seeing what I want to change and making it happen through contemplation and consciousness.  It can happen, but I know it isn’t easy and I know that there aren’t many Eves out there who can wait for this Adam to drop the fig leafs.  The question must be asked.  Do I want to end those practices that have created suffering in my life and in the life of those I Love or am I happy ignoring my role in choosing hell over Heaven?  If there truly is bliss in ignorance, I haven’t found it but can certainly see why some people bury their heads in the sand.  Sometimes it just feels safer.

Now, my Lover, I know.  We’ve eaten the apple and we’ve burned the Garden.  In the smoke-filled haze of what once was a beautiful experience we view the ashen landscape we have created.  There is hope, however, for in the fading embers of what was there is a small sapling that has survived.  There are seeds planted in the ground still fertile with hope and Love.  Beneath the surface of despair there are tiny seeds of hope and promise for what is to come.  All is not lost despite the destruction we are seeing now.

That is how we make Love work.  We feel enough to know, care enough to see and Love enough to want to bring the Garden alive.  Our tears carve paths through the ashy remains of our dreams now staining our faces.  This is hope as we can either use those tears to cleanse us of our wounds or to create new ones.  For me, it is time I clean up this act and move beyond the fear my experience has created.  It won’t be easy, but it will be a walk in the park.  Or rather a walk in the Garden.  I’ve seen it, I Love it, and I want to live in it.  Forever.


How to Make Love to an Angel (Mature)


Hopefully we are all making Love to an Angel.  Hopefully we know they are Angels enough to not be fucking them.  Yes, there are people in our experience we are fucking and there are people in our experience we make Love to.

What’s the difference?

Well, making Love isn’t about love.  It’s about Love.  There is a difference.   It seems most of us fall in love from a purely physical perspective first.  We desire the beautiful flower we see and wish to pollinate it as quickly as we can.  We men find her “hot”, and adore the curves that make up that “hotness”.  We love her tits, her ass, her lips, her face, her hair…whatever goes into making us hard before we even know her name.

Then we make love.  Making love is fucking in a way that makes us both feel better about doing it.  It’s about pleasure and the eventual orgasm.  Hopefully, we were able to make her cum too, but generally we don’t even care if she faked it or not.  In fact, she usually fakes it to assuage the same ego that caused us to enter her in the first place.  Foreplay, if it  exists, usually is there to her get wet and us hard.  That’s the purpose it serves, and even some of the most renown sexual therapists in the world suggest that is the only purpose foreplay serves.  Sure, they may talk about it making the sexual experience better, but they never really tell us how or why it makes it better.   Probably because doctors themselves often discount the value of a good spiritual understanding in favor of the purely physical one.

If the sex is great we “fall in love”.  We become monogamous.  We even get married, have kids and “settle down” based on the very physical love we have fallen into.  Sure, there are times when we find an emotional connection, and that seems to magnify the physical one.  There are some instances where we “wait until marriage” to have sex, but even then most of our connections are physical with an emotional twist.  We commit to the physical and emotional components of love without ever going beyond them.

Soon, our lives fall into boredom.  We become complacent, and that monogamy becomes celibacy for the most part.  Sex becomes as infrequent as a good conversation between partners.  We fall out of love and into the routine of “love”.  We remain faithful to the ideal or, sometimes, we “cheat” and find the missing egoic pleasure elsewhere.  When we are caught, or admit to it, or leave our spouses for the “other”, we don’t hurt the physical connection because it no longer exists.  Rather, we hurt the only thing left to the relationship, that shell of an emotional connection that remained.  We hurt our egos, we hurt our emotional selves.

We are not taught as children how to find the missing components in our relationships.  We are surely taught the physical components to our relationships.  Mothers hold their babies soon after birth to “bond”, that is to gain a physical connection to one another.  Then an emotional connection is forged.  It is rare that the missing, and to me the most vital component, is created or taught.  That is the spiritual component.

The Divine Trinity of Love

Any real, Loving relationship must have three components.  First, let me explain that the difference between love and Love.  Love (big L) is a spiritual Love that goes beyond the confines of ego.  To quote the famous definition of Love from Corinthians:

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Ego cannot allow love to meet this definition.  Sure it can allow for any one component to be met as long as it serves itself, but it simply could not allow the entirety of the definition to be met.  Ego could allow patience, but only in a self-serving manner.  It could allow for kindness, but only if the outcome serves ego.  In reality it cannot the meet entire definition because that would eliminate egoic power.

Love (small “l”) is what most of us experience in our lifetimes.  We desire our partners, care for them.  We can be patient with them, kind to them.  We may not be jealous or boastful or so on.  Yet eventually we will fail to meet any of the criteria set in this definition.  Ego isn’t interested in longevity unless that longevity is self-serving.  In most cases, for instance, the goal of egoic love is to satisfy our physical needs with someone we desire.  Once that physical need or desire is gone, so is the love.

Love (big “L”) meets that definition completely.  The ego is always involved to some degree, but usually to show us the strength of the Love we feel.  It creates jealousy, for example, in order for us to see the Love we feel.  Ego will make us impatient from time to time in order to show us the patience we have in Love.  Ego’s purpose here shifts from one where ego is the focus to one where ego is the supporting cast providing us focus on the Love we feel.  Ultimately, I believe that this is ego’s true purpose in our human experience.  We simply need to reign it in and becomes its Master versus it’s prisoner.

Now that this is an understanding, let’s gain an understanding of the Divine Trinity of Love.  When you are in Love with another human being, you are completely connected not just physically and emotionally as all others “in love” are, but you are also connected spiritually.  This is the vital missing component in most of our human relationships.  We don’t develop the spiritual connection that unites not just our bodies and our emotions, but also our Souls.

This isn’t something that we can create.  This, to me, is a connection forged an eternity ago.  It is, however, undeniable in its necessity and its power.  How do you know if you have found it?  Well, I can’t assume that all experiences are the same.  I can, however, suggest that in mine it is truly indescribable.  It’s like you are a cup being filled with something you can’t describe.  It feels like a wave of energy that awakens your physical and emotions beings.  It magnifies the physical and heightens the emotional components to who you are.  Yet, it is not physical or emotional but is the Master of both.

You can be connected to someone spiritually and not be connected physically or emotionally.  You can find someone who you are connected with spiritually, physically and emotionally and, for whatever reason, fall out of that connection physically and/or emotionally.  The spiritual connection always remains, but perhaps they aren’t “with you” anymore emotionally.  Maybe you connect with them spiritually and physically but, through whatever reason, they can’t open up to you emotionally.  Because the Trinity is not present, you are not in Love.

Being in Love denotes a connection spiritually, physically and emotionally.  This connection is usually the essence of a truth far greater than anyone can describe.  It is strong because it is based in Divinity.  The physical and emotional components are based in our humanity, where the spiritual component is based in the Divine presence we cannot describe.  It’s why that spiritual connection, if it is true, can never be broken whereas the human components are the first to fall (if they fall at all).

Who is Your Angel?

Most of us can call the person we love an angel.  She may be the sweetest person ever to grace this planet, but she is not your Angel.  Your Angel (again, notice the capitalization used to denote the egoic versus the Divine) is the person who meets the Divine Trinity of Love.  You are connected to her spiritually, physically and emotionally.  You can feel her in the room without ever opening your eyes.  You walk similar paths.  You don’t always think or feel the same way, but you are certainly “patient and kind” with the differences.  She is there to protect you and vice versa.

Once you have found her, the spiritual connection becomes very noticeable.  You know it because it is not like any other feeling you’ve ever had.  Yes, the Universe communicates in feelings, not words, so when you feel you have met your Angel you will know it.  No, an erection is not usually the way the Universe tells you your Angel has just entered the room in the beginning, although in time that could certainly be the case.  For me, that feeling begins in the area of my Heart Chakra and radiates outward.  It’s the heart “skipping a beat” feeling.  I feel it every time I see her, and every moment I am in her presence.  I feel it in every touch, in every kiss, in ever moment of intimacy.  I even hear it when that sound I have assigned her calls and texts rings out from my phone.  Sometimes I can even feel it before the sound arrives.

In my experience, I was physically connected at the same time the spiritual realization occurred.  I’m not 100% certain, but I believe that she actually became more beautiful because of the spiritual connection.  I hadn’t spoken to her, I hadn’t seen her outside of a picture on my computer screen and I knew.  Imagine that.  Here I was ogling at a beautiful woman feeling a wave of energy radiating from my Heart Chakra and I had never even spoken a word to her.

It wasn’t a real sexual desire I had which was completely different for me.  I just thought her beauty took my breath away (probably because of my heart “skipping a beat”) and that wave of energy.  I didn’t truly want her sexually until our first meeting, and then the great spiritual desire magnified the physical desire.  By then we had talked, and the emotional connection was certainly there.  Yes, we had fallen into the Holy Trinity of Love (or at least I had).

How to Make Love to Your Angel

This is the most interesting part of the experience.  Close your eyes and imagine along with me.  Your touch is guided by a feeling you have.  You shut that part of your mind down that focuses on getting your penis into her vagina, or your mouth on her breasts, and you just feel. It’s completely meditative, and for those of you who meditate the practice is the same.  You still your mind and follow your feelings.  If you are spiritually connected, her Soul will tell you all you need to know.  It will guide your hands to the right places in the right way.  Your mouth will become magical, your tongue a tool for complete pleasure.  You will spend hours just touching her body, kissing her everywhere, and she will experience great pleasure from the action.  I know, there are some egos out there saying “fuck that, just fuck me” but if that is what you are saying you are not in the Divine Trinity of Love.  Sure, there are times when Divine Lovers “just fuck” but they are always in a heightened state of awareness with each other even when getting a “quickie” in before going to work.

So, the first step is to quiet the drunken monkey we call our minds.  Listen to the feelings that are there and follow them.  You will feel her energy and it will be your guide.  You will see her skin tingle, and you will mirror her feelings.  You will find so much joy in the foreplay that you will not even want it to stop.

Yes, here is the tricky part.  You have to be willing to allow her to do the same to you.  She cannot forge a connection with you unless she is allowed to find it.  Let her touch you, give you pleasure, and share the joy with her.  Do NOT hide a thing, let every moan, groan and scream come out of you regardless of if your best friends will think you a woman for it.  Let it go, you aren’t there to please society’s version of manhood, you are there to satisfy your Angel’s needs for complete unity.  Be yourself and allow her to explore that beautiful physical expression that is you while you do the same to her.

Insertion is secondary in this experience.  It is but one part of the overall experience.  You will enter her, perhaps, but you will do so because the feeling tells you too (no, not the feeling in your little head, but the feeling that is coming from her).  In this you will gain pleasure yourself.  Great pleasure.  When you are in Love there is no greater pleasure for you than the pleasure of your Lover.  You’ll see if you haven’t already when the time comes for you to stop fucking and start Loving.

I can’t get into the mechanics (insert collective boos from the audience) because I have no idea what your Angel’s Soul wants.  All I can tell you is that you need to listen to It and It will tell you all you need to know.  Throw away the Sexual Instruction Manuals you read.  Forget the porn you saw that told you if you bend her this way she will squirt all over your bedroom.  Get rid of your preconceived notions of what works and what doesn’t and simply LISTEN TO YOUR ANGEL.  You’ll find everything you need to find and know everything you’ll need to know once you drop your veil, still your mind, and listen.

The adage “be still and know that I am God” doesn’t just apply to sitting in a lotus position repeating a mantra or kneeling in a church droning on some prayer.  When you still your mind with your Angel, your Lover, you will know who She is.  You will feel her invade your Entirety and share in your Being.  There, right there, is a bond that can never be broken even if the Trinity falls apart.  She will forever be a part of you and you her, and you will always hear her in your Soul speaking a language few understand.

I pray for the day when most of us understand that language.  I think first we need to be taught it, and that change always starts with me.  Say this, “the change begins with me” then shut up and listen.  You’ll fall crumpled on the bed after a few hours wondering where the time went.  She’ll then touch you and you’ll spend a couple of hours more listening.



photo by: Modern Relics

A Moment on the Beach (Mature)







The waves gently broke around them as their feet played with each other in the surf.  As the water receded he would caress the beads of water off her feet with his own, carefully reminding her of the gentle strength he offered.  He would follow a droplet’s tear as it made its way down the top of her foot with his toe, gently tracing its path while sending waves of desire up her spine.  They both focused there, where their bodies touched and where the playful teasing of what was to come was born.

Neither could tell if the beads of sweat formed on their brow was from the hot midday Sun or from the anticipation their bodies called out to.  She could feel her nipples becoming erect under the padding of her bikini top, and as she bit her lower lip in a playful pose he could feel the quickening of his breath at the suggestion.  He held his hands at bay as long as he could, not allowing his hands to wonder over her body, but as she turned her head slightly to look into his eyes he could no longer hold them still.

The waves and feet were forgotten as he gently took her face in his hand, embracing her lips with his own as their tongues made the world fade away.  Their love flowed through their mouths and into each other as the sand and ocean seemed to merge into who they were in the moment.  Their lips parted as he slowly moved his hand to brush the hair from her face.  They looked deeply into each other’s eyes as he allowed his fingertips to brush lightly the lines of her jaw, the outside of her ear and down to her neck.  Her hand instinctively caressed his arm as their eyes made love and their thoughts stayed fixed on the moment.  Slowly their lips merged once again and they knew the entirety of time and space had been created for this very moment.

They embraced tightly.  She could feel his hardness and he her softness.  There were no words necessary in the moment, but each whispered in a timely unison into the other’s ear “I love you.”  The words spoke a truth their bodies and souls would confirm.  There, on towels laid on a summer sand they became One.  The warm Atlantic waves surrounded them.  The Sun admired them, and all of nature seemed to delight in the moment of Love born a lifetime ago.  Yes, this “me” was born for that “you” in the moment where nothing was asked for and everything was received.

They were oblivious to the stares and judgments of the people around them.  Since when had Love become a dirty thing?  They did not care what the jesters thought.  They served the Love within them, and they only knew that Master.  Imagine such joy found in the Soul finding Its physical mate, on the merging of two minds who knew each other!  Why others sought to dampen such a Love with judgments and man-made protestations of “wrong” served them not.  No, they bowed to no man but gave way to the deep feeling within them. Theirs was a Great Gate, open to all but breached by none.

She gently moaned as his hand caressed her spine downward.  He stopped just above where the curve of her ass began, and he gently outlined the place where her skin started and the fabric of her bottoms ended.  She bit her lower lip again, and sighed in a way that sent her chest heaving towards him.  He could feel the softness of her breasts press against his chest.  He could feel her surround him completely and he entered her in the same way.  There they were in a slightly clothed embrace, making love to one another in a way that no one around them could understand.

They were One.  They nestled next to each other awash in the salty sea as their sweat mixed with the ocean’s mist.  They once again could hear the songs of the sea birds looking for a meal.  They could once again hear the ocean give way to the shore.  Together they gazed into the same sky that gazed back at them in mindful remembrance of the heartbeats they could feel in their silence.  This was Love, this was what the Universe was created to serve.  They were born for this moment when each of them could unite into a Oneness that served as notice to the mindlessness around them.  They held each other in that moment, and they shared eternity in the experience.  Thankfully, they would never recover, and in moments when they would return to human mindlessness they could never forget that one moment that defined all others.

In our human experience it is moments like this that could define us if only we’d remember.


photos by: shazwan & shazwan