Listen Here- Podcast Style
Just as a snake sheds its skin, we must shed our past over and over again.
Buddha
What we get is what we see?
The world speaks. It does not imply.
The world invites. It does not require.
Are we limited by our eyes? Our “I”s. The two “I’s - time and space.
They are the king and queen of our earthly experience. We are limited by our senses. Held back by the boundaries to this human skin. Hardened out at the stretched edges of its sensation. The world speaks to us in an invitation that lives far beyond the perception fed experience of our five senses. What about language?
Does it not speak to the world? Like our senses, we are limited by language.
We carry it on our backs like a shell. We are ladened to language as
the house of our being.
Maybe there is another skin out beyond the perception of our senses?
Wrapped around us, yet one we cannot see. A skin we cannot hear, touch, taste or smell. One we only catch a glimpse of. One we can only feel. Another skin.
One that creates tingling goosebumps as the frenulum of our existence is stretched into a sensual storm of essence attempting to pull away from body to touch soul.
Are we aware of our own illusion? The possessive I’s of self. What is this weft
and warp of selves that we are constantly weaving? Constantly shedding. Is knowing a dream? Is knowing forgetting? Is knowing remembering? In and of, now and here. Through the looking glass. “We” may be a place? Beyond time and space.
An otherness? The evanescent disappearance of the self. A journey from skin to soul. Oneness?
What opens doors between the senses and the world? Between languages? Between body and soul? Between species? Between Beings? Beyond the frenulumized boundaries of time and space. What opens the door between the skin and the cosmos? Between chaos and creation. What opens the door to place? To We?
The mirror is the door.
Everything must be emptied of it’s self before its Being can be revealed.
The world is made of stories.
Through the looking glass.
What we see is what we get.
Breathe in experience.
Breathe out poetry.Muriel Rukeyser
Shedding Glass
A worm is in the wood. Spiralling
into the weft and warp of the weave.
Is something rotting?
Candy coated popcorn. Caramelized
peanuts covering up a prize
buried in the bottom of a box
of hope.
The nature of things likes to hide.
There are no secrets to conceal.
She leaves no chocolate map. No
cracker jack surprise.
There is a clearing in the deep forest.
An eruption of existence. A nameless pause
in the cul de sac of possession.
She reads me
slowly running her finger along the cleft
of perception.
Senses stripped bare. Hewn of mind.
Unravelling a cavity
in the looking glass.
Is something breaking open? Shattering
shards shrouded in the shadows of time and space
scatter. Shedding. Exonerating
shell of skin.
What I find will get left behind.
What I lost will go with me.
© Jamie MillardHappy 2025!
May this year dance deep into the depths of heart and blanket you in the kiss of soul.
Thank you for Being - Here!
Lots of Love,
Jamie
The stiller we become the more we see feel hear. How does one become still. Find that clearing in the forest with its cushioned silence. Slip into the deep dark pool, become one with the trees. My current favourite phrase is from the Kybalion , the All is in us. We are in the All.
Really enjoyed that Jamie. Reminded me of my own use of the weaving metaphor. Must go search.
Hi Jamie, your writing is so beautiful and evocative. How you capture the mystery, the magic, the aliveness of the worlds we know, and those we glimpse through the windows our soul and its multidimensionality, what the universe offers us. And the poem conjured the visual of a kaleidoscope of being. Thank you 🙏💜