I am your slave
not servant
There's no choice in this
Where you go, I am there also
Your will,
my will
one and the same
Let me be at your feet
soaking up the rays of divinity
This is not a show
just the fact of my existence
Born from you, to you
Where is the choice?
You move, I follow
You lead, I dance
There is deep magic here
vast oceans of pleasure
being bonded together
We are one

Surrender...

Your ‘free will’ does not exist. It is the state of not remembering. Of experiencing separation.

Instead of 'free will', try exploring executive action. This is choice from a state of empowered union.

The minute you re-member the Lover from which you came, your illusion of free will is finished. The bottom falls out of ‘you’ leaving only ‘is-ness’.

Falling into the embrace of many lifetimes.

Dissolving into totality, unconditionality, surrender.

Lots of people talk about 'surrender'. They say they're doing it. They point to it. they talk about how their life has got better. And some of them, some of the time, are getting close. But you will know when you've truly surrendered because you will be nothing but bliss and ecstasy. You will have the 'problem' of so much pleasure in your life you don't know where to put it.

Try giving up. Stop manifesting, stop intentioning, stop co-creating, and become empty.

Become a living orgasm. Helpless, reckless, yet full of creative power.

And enjoy it.

​​

​When love itself comes to kiss you,
don't hold back!  When the king

goes hunting, the forest smiles.
Now the king has become the place

and all the players, prey, bystander,
bow, arrow, hand and release.  How

does that feel?  Last night's dream
enters these open eyes.  When we die

and turn to dust, each particle will
be the whole.  You hear a mote whirl

taking form?  My music.  Love, calm,
patient.  The Friend has waded down

into existence, gotten stuck, and 
will not be seen again outside of

this.  We sometimes make spiderwebs
of smoke and saliva, fragile thought -

packets.  Leave thinking to the one
who gave intelligence .  In silence

there is eloquence.  Stop weaving,
and watch how the pattern improves.
​