And now...a Poem

So much of tripping seems to boil down to love — divine love, and love between humans. Being human, our part of this love thing is to get in touch with the divine stuff and spread it out as best we can among ourselves. But there’s a lot of accumulated inertia in the way, from the whirlpool of folly (our own crazy lifestyles, jealousies, attachments) to the valleys of the ghosts (the lives we lead where we fail to pick up the opportunities to love and let it die). The solution comes up in so many trips — let love be, that is let love be it’s own weird self, and follow the trails it wants to go down. Love will always bring surprises.

How does love grow?
Ask the holly bush.
Where did my love go?
Follow the bee.
Will the night last long?
Only the blood-red moon knows.
What does love ask for? 

To be seen, and to see.

In the quiet of the night
I hear it rising
The great wise salmon
Of the Western Sea.
True death, true life
Is all we wish for
In the whirlpool of folly
That we struggle to flee.

Down the far wide valleys
Of the moonlight
The bitter and the doleful
Ghosts are howling
For the love they forsook
And allowed to fly free.
If of love
You would be given
Let love be,
Let love be.