Awakening. Enlightenment. Higher and higher levels of consciousness. Seeking the light. Becoming the light. Being the light. Going beyond the light. Receiving transmission. Giving transmission. Sitting at the feet of the guru. Excitement. The guru must know. Burning incense. Reading spiritual books. Chanting. Meditating. Doing yoga. Liberating the inner child. Getting there, getting there. Discovering the true self. Transcending the ego. Going beyond mind. Sending. Descending. I sending again. Opening Chacras. Attaining unimaginable powers. Miracles. Mysterious happenings. Insight upon insight. Being human. Nonhuman. Trans human. Met a human. Going beyond to duality. Going beyond going beyond duality. Going beyond “going beyond going beyond”. Who goes beyond? Seeing the nonexistence of ‘I’. The source of Self. Who sees? Who asks?
Stop, friend. Breathe.
Your elderly father’s hand brushes against yours as you walk together through the park.      Never to be repeated, a moment.
Contact. And insurrection.
   Be here, it whispers. You get this only once. Be here.

-Jeff Foster

“Let’s go,” you said, tugging at my shirt.
“Let go,” I said, standing still.

When I first breathed you, your human body was anything but an empty vessel. Yet, in very short order, you spoke of integrating nearly all the medicines at hand. The conundrum—the mindfuck—of duality compelled you to the nth degree.

“Breath is life”
“Life lives us”
“We’re the medicine”
Ole, have you integrated this life?
This human-ness?
Humane—and what a mane it was at times!
A lion’s mane
No tropics, but
Streets of Montréal
Bicycles in Mexico City
Forested Catskills of New York
Maria Sabina criss-crossing southern Norway….

Ole, you saw something in me that I was reluctant to see in myself. So persistently, so incessantly, you coaxed it out of me.

You, my mirror charmer.
You had me at “love-thyself.”

To love you as much as you loved me was your guidance toward loving myself even more.
I thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.

And, you were also reaching out.

You, human, man, who have left your peaceful mark on so MANy, were transitioning from being constantly enrolled to enrolling others. At first, you cringed at the word leadership. Embody the toroidal field, I implored: your reaching out will also be reaching in. You were
a student of a-waking,
(your body often shaking)
an elder in the making
yes, that’s right, a king.

“There’s more,” you said.
“What’s the rush?” I replied. “There’ll always be more.
Besides, isn’t this enough?”

Enigmatic only by your own design
of constantly evolving paradigms
the hiss of the word blissssssss, full
of so much choice
and a growing voice
stillness to noise
and back again
to the All
the One
the Only
so many, yet
so l[One]ly

You embodied the etymology of human expression.

no mime
more meaning
than meme-ing
Your wordPLAY was nothing less than a key to the collective gene-i-Us

As gene-rous and gracious as you were, you were also insatiable. Not in a wild way (?), but resolute.
Nothing moot.
The only word lacking in enacting was maybe, maybe, maybe:


“I’ll do it alone,” you said.
“I know,” I said. “There’s nothing I can do about that.”

And so it was: a solstice outro.

Ole, may you be blissed.

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