Shiva In My Driveway

There’s a man breaking up my driveway. He’s turning it to rubble.

I expected this to happen.

Everything eternally overthrown and turned to rubble.

I spend a certain amount of my time deciding what’s a good thing and what’s a bad thing. As if my preference had some effect on how things turn out in the multiverse.

When exactly has anything ever turned out? Do I select a point on the light-speed unfolding and say, There!

I thought someone would show up with a backhoe or at least a jackhammer.

This man has a sledge, a pick and a pry bar.

He sets a pace and holds it.

I’m going to say that everything is instantaneous and eternal. Everything that is, always is.

There is a problem with my claim. It is my mind that is carving out things and their passing. If I say this moment, I’ve stepped outside of this moment. I’ve digitized eternity – turned it into time.

But I need some way to talk to you.


What if I say that the thing destruction is one with the thing creation?

… that birth and death are thereby one?

Have I seen love lying dead by the side of the road?
Did I try resurrection and could not do it?

I put dimes on her eyes and said, Well … that’s that.

Shiva in my driveway.
Jesus on the mainline.

The old yogis said that the steady overthrow and undoing is for my benefit. It is for my experience – to be either endured or to be seen. Seen clearly, my experience would be that of Sat, the experience of Is. Seen clearly, I could not speak of my experience. I want to talk to you about it; I want to call it something. So, I call it Love. Without direction. Without object. Without beginning or ending. Without name.