There is nothing to “get”
No one to get it.
No truth,
Many experiences.
No guru
Just one who is empty-handed.
No accomplishment
Only piles of potential,
No body, only energy,
Nothing to believe,
Nothing to do.
I give up,
I don’t even want to know
Any more
I am finished with the search.

B. Greenwell
June 8, 1999


Nothing can be said about awakening,
There is nothing in it for the mind.
Pack the mind in a suitcase
And send it on a trip,
Sit at the station and wait
With attention on what remains.
If you are lucky the conductor will wander by
And take your pass.
Give up all hope of knowing
What will happen,
Or if or when,
But sit anyway.
It is ok to feel longing
As long as you long for nothing.

Sit still long enough,
You may fall through the secret door
Into the lap of God.
She will gently 
Split you open and spill you out into endless
Ocean, chanting
“Be all that is.”
Every bubble arising here
Plays in an empty stream of light.
Love and joy too intense
For a human to grasp.

When you are drunk on love
And spilled forth like a newborn
Into the world of empty illusion,
Every step seem fresh
And soon you see
That every other speck of illusion
Is only God pretending to be something,
And looking at herself
With wonder and laughter

God dances through the eyes and laughter of the world
And bears all the suffering
The illusion brings forth
In the name of life.

Break free
Once you have taken this empty journey
You will hope your mind never returns.
Its uses are undone.
Now the heart can lead.
Hope that your baggage never returns.

B. Greenwell
June 10, 1999

Nothing, Only Words

I cannot say I am enlightened
But I can say
I know who I am
Through the empty cells
And radiant flows

I do not know about freedom,
Only that the I
Who would know
Is as empty as space,
As quiet as silence

I would say I am unfinished,
Only some dream
Fading in and out
Like an old film
Falling from the reel

I could say I am finished
Although nothing is done,
And no one can do it,
But I am silently
Doing nothing

I can say that I sense
Black and white
Becoming gray
And underneath the light
Appearances may exist

I can admit restlessness
From rambling mind
Dancing in the space
From thought to thoughtlessness,
And no one cares,

I could say this embodiment
Has arisen from the sea
Of ether, light and love
In continual flow
So slowly falling back

B. Greenwell