The mouth that never shuts

The mouth that never shuts

Its voice is an endless rattle

Its speech denotes nothing.


A mouth connected to eyes

But eyes which reach no mind

Nought to temper time into words.


A mouth without a mind

A voice that should be powerless

But rattles on until breathing its last.


A mouth that issues commands

To jumble the world around it

 The chaos of a losing soul.


A mouth that never shuts

That of a woman’s, a mother’s

As clueless as the day it could speak.



The Yin-Yang of Nature


Yin is the light and yang is the dark.


The castles we build protect us from the wolf and the wind. But they do nothing against time.

Change is the nature of nature.

Routines, even good ones, fly in the face of this.

To strive to be healthy is to strive to be unhealthy.

The more we fortify against chaos, the more fortification we need against chaos. The ego separates itself from nature and must maintain its distance; which is impossible.

Thus, behind our ramparts we slowly truncate and dissolve our Selves.

A single sleepless night can bear more wisdom than a hundred days of thought.

Constantly challenging ourselves we can transcend ego-consciousness, allowing for change and re-connection. Anxiety shrivels when we walk out onto a new path; the ego is given relief that it is more capable than previously imagined.

Sometimes chaos and misfortune are what force us to change and better our Selves. Thus chaos is the evolver and exalter of human spirit. To extinguish chaos is to flatten the human spirit.

The desire for security allows us periods of vital restoration, but these sanctuaries eventually degenerate into prisons.

Our longing for pure yin puts us out of alignment with what is possible.



Light is like a veil which conceals shadows. But the darkness always remains.

If we overcome all our struggles and fulfill all our dreams, we are confronted with death.

Our dreams and desires shield us from this realization; they occupy us. Sometimes we feel death seeping through the facade, but seldom so.

Therefore to be free from dream and desire is to permanently confront the unfathomable.

We know how to die as much as we know how to live. We are adapted for it and ever prepared to die.

To accept your Self is to accept elements of yang, therefore the inevitability of death.

Thus we fear our whole Selves. To be your whole Self is to undermine the control of the conscious ego, which is a mere component of the whole.

The conscious-ego exists on a plane of time, whereas the deepest aspect of Self exists in an infinite, indiscernible domain. This creates a contradiction when one is too identified with the ego, but a perfectly reasonable totality when one is willing to allow the whole Self.

The desire for yin-order and straightness rubs up against the reality of yang-disorder and roughness.

The tension between these two forces should be a great motive force for our Selves. But if we live in denial of yang, it becomes a thing to be dreaded.



What is captured is taken out of its domain of spontaneity, ceasing to be what it was.

Our whole Self contains sparks of chaos which cannot be controlled. The deepest emergent properties of our Selves can be cultivated and given space, yet they act beyond our conscious control.

Imagine a person who wants to control their dreams – their deepest form of yang-perception. They would, by the very folly of their quest, be truncating themselves. The conscious ego does not have the capacity to reach the source of dreams.

Dreams analyzed by rational thought are bastardized. To understand dreams we must allow a deeper form of perception to triumph.

To stop the river in its course is to destroy it; water taken out of the river ceases to be of it. The river is more than its water, its mass, its banks and its debris. It is its flow and totality. One cannot understand what it means to be in the river from without. Nor can one take its water, fill up a pool and mistake this for the river.

To be whole and complete we must relinquish control of our whole Selves. This requires us to trust all modes of perception and to trust the unknown.

Death is the end-beginning. No one knows it, nor can they. It remains the ultimate mystery.  For the dead individual it is the only satisfiable resolution of any questions of consciousness or spirituality. When we accept this essential yang-element of death and decay, we can fully experience the yin-element of life and thriving.



Our options are to be ordered and die a long death, or to accept chaos and live a little before death.

All walls eventually crumble. All forms are subject to entropy. Every dawn the sun rises. Every dusk the sun sets.

The cosmos is equal parts yin and yang. I feel humanity may be more aligned with yang, having historically failed to overcome its evils. We continue to underachieve despite our technological progress and immense potential.

However, this is no cause for misanthropy. We have the rare ability to mirror and embody other creatures. Thus we can be influenced by yin-aligned creatures – such as the blackbird whose song is benevolence and the hedgehog whose being is innocence – to account for our shortcomings.

Yin-aligned plants and trees can guide us and support us. This is why we must be surrounded by nature at all times.

We cannot even begin to align with other creatures whilst we are trapped in wholly humanistic, individualistic, empirical domains. Spirituality is there for all of us, if we are willing to accept it with humility.

Civilized human beings must learn what wild animals already know. How to be authentic at all times.



Yin without yang is an indiscernible ball of light without contour. It is a plane of stagnation. It is darkness that allows shape, diversity and contrast. Without these things there is no reason to live.

Our utopias would be domains of death and stagnation. We must accept the world we are in and accept the limits of the yin-light we may shine upon it.

This is to exist in alignment with the yin-yang of nature. This is to be whole again and to achieve what is possible.