Category Archives: writing

post from Jeff Foster

This touched me very deeply, and I want to share it here. It is from Jeff Foster‘s June 2012 newsletter; Jeff is a young, British man whose deep experiences brought him to the nondual view. I read it first in a post from restinginawareness.

“It is becoming clearer and clearer (and yes, yes, ultimately even this is a story) that a new age of spirituality is dawning, a radically inclusive and accessible spirituality free from the dogma and ideology and blind belief of the past, a spirituality in which nothing and nobody – including the teachers themselves – can escape the loving light of ruthless inquiry and blinding transparency, in which nobody can claim any kind of absolute truth or privileged knowledge.

Equality, deep friendship, honesty and integrity are the new gods. The disembodied, detached, disengaged, anti-personal, life-denying and often arrogant spirituality of the past, the “I know and you don’t” spirituality, the “I have it and you don’t” spirituality, the “I’m awakened and you’re not” spirituality, the “I’m no-one but you’re still someone” spirituality, is dead and dying, and this ordinary life is shining through.

Separation, of any kind, cannot stand, for it is ultimately without foundation. Fundamentalism, of any kind, eventually collapses under its own ridiculous weight.

And here, we finally meet, teacher and non-teacher alike, in the unconditionally loving rubble of the present moment. Here, we are all teachers, and here, nobody knows anything at all. Welcome to this new dawn, my friend.”

1 Comment

Filed under Musings, spirituality, writing

going nowhere

Where is this mallard going? Nowhere–he has no known destination, because he doesn’t think about it. Life is paddling, taking him straight to where he needs to be.

Here’s what I love about the word “nowhere.” This mallard is simply “now here.”

Lucky duck.

© Amrita Skye Blaine, 2012
photo credit: Jeffrey Foltice

1 Comment

Filed under Musings, thoughts, writing

broken link yesterday

A friend told me that my link ti the NASA site for pictures of the universe was broken–so here is the correct one:

So sorry, and enjoy!

1 Comment

Filed under writing

a prompt: generosity

I have a Word file with 272 prompts. New prompts often pop up in the middle of the night. Sometimes, if an idea comes when I’m away from home, I make notes on my little spiral cash book–or if my phone is with me–put it in the notes, and add it to my prompt document later. These suggestions help out on days when nothing in particular has touched me to write about, or I’ve been moving too quickly to notice–too engaged in life to step back with a writerly eye.

This is one of those days: I have been concerned about our sick dog, Emma (expensive vet appointment, supervised walks in the back yard) and busy studying real estate. Sitting down for a few minutes now, I needed some inspiration. I open up the Word doc and pick the first prompt that catches me–it feels juicy, alive–so I plunk it in here, and write. Today, I chose “generosity.”

Orchids, for example, are generous beyond most flowers–the blossoms of some varieties last almost six months. Lilies bloom and then bloom some more. Our Christmas cactuses were filled with blooms twice this year, Thanksgiving and March. Their beauty stops the mind, gives a refreshing moment of stillness.

I have a friend of thirty-five years whose home is close by. Her generosity simply overflows. When I admired the New Zealand spinach in her vegetable garden, she sent me home with two of its babies to put in our garden. She showed up with a bar of my favorite, hard-to-find soap the other day.

And then she brought a gorgeous orchid; ours were given away to friends in Oregon because of the strict plant importation laws, and she knew I was grieving for them. (The magenta one above that lived with us for ten years was re-homed.)

The gifts are wonderful, but what I’m speaking about is her generosity of spirit–her heart is open and flowing. It brings tears, and it nudges me to remember. Overflowing hearts merge in oneness. Deep thanks to my dear friend.

© Amrita Skye Blaine, 2012

1 Comment

Filed under writing

received commentator award

Paul, of the blog restinginawareness just nominated me for the commentator award. This means that I’ve commented on his site, and he noticed! Thank you, Paul. You have also commented here, and I appreciate it–sometimes it’s made my day.

I too, deeply appreciate the people who take the time to comment. Some interesting conversations have ensued, and I’ve made online friends as well. Sometimes people only click the “like” button–but then I know they’re read the post, and were touched in some way. I thank them as well.

So, to nominate some of the lovely folks who comment here:

and many other dear people who do not have blogs, but follow by email, and are kind enough to respond. Thanks to all of you!




Filed under Musings, simple pleasures, writing


In my 104th post, written February 10th–ten days before we relocated–I said that I had no anxiety about the move at all. That was true then. Not now!

Even though I clearly see that anxiety serves no purpose, that it increases suffering, that the ground of awareness is unmoving and not affected, still the body runs adrenalin. It’s not pleasant, but here it is, like it or not. It has no specific story, but I have to assume that hiding in the recesses, there is still some untilled belief–and fear–about an uncertain future. Silly: as though any unfolding moment holds any kind of certainty.

The path curves; I cannot see around it. The words spill out, from where and by whom?

© Amrita Skye Blaine, 2012


Filed under Musings, thoughts, writing



I want to thank yogaleigh of bluegrassnotes for nominating me for the versatile blogger award. I surely don’t know fifteen blogs to nominate, but I suppose eventually I will. I’m such a newby here.

Watching the sense of feeling undeserving unfold, and simply letting it be.

© Amrita Skye Blaine, 2012


Leave a comment

Filed under Musings, writing

I was given the Liebster Blog award!

I am stunned and delighted, as a very new blogger, to receive this award from yogaleigh of BlueGrassNotes. Thank you so much!

Info about the Liebster Blog Award:
The Liebster Blog Award is given to upcoming bloggers who have less than 200 followers.  Liebster is German (n.) and means: sweetheart, beloved person, darling.

1. Thank the person who gave you the award and link back to his or her blog

2. Copy and paste the “Liebster Blog Award” icon into your post

3. Pass the award on to 5 of your fellow bloggers and let them know you did so

***Okay, I’m working on #3. I am only following about six blogs, and I suspect some don’t qualify. And I don’t know how to figure out how many followers a blogger has… so I will award others, but it may take a couple of days.

Thanks again, yogaleigh!


Filed under writing

words will always fail

I used to weave, paint, draw. I was a competent weaver, but the medium was not flexible enough to express what I wanted. I tried painting and drawing—both very flexible—but wasn’t satisfied with my work. So, in the end, I switched to writing. I wanted, hoped, prayed that the words I play with in my mind or on paper would communicate with clarity and depth.

Even though words are one of the most flexible tools we have, they will never fully communicate the truth. Words cannot express the ineffable. I have no way to describe that which has no texture, no past, no color, no taste, no future, no smell. All I can do is point in the general direction of what I mean, using comparison, simile, metaphor.

I can say that a thought is like a rainbow—it only appears to be something. We can hear it, see it in our mind’s eye, speak it, but it has no more substantial reality that the rainbow itself. It’s a chimera, an illusion.

I can write about awareness—which we all agree is an experiential truth–but when I try to grab it, to describe it in a recognizable way, it eludes. Flimsy words cannot contain it. That’s the wild paradox—the inside is unable to communicate directly about the whole. The whole is unspeakable, unthinkable, outside of the mind’s capacity. And yet, awareness can be experienced, it can experience itself (except it is not a thing) outside of thought, feeling, speech. And those of us who love the unknowable above all else, who are wholly married in the singular relationship of one, are driven to try—again, again, again—to express this in words, and will always fail.

© Skye Blaine, 2011


Filed under Advaita, Musings, Non-duality, spirituality, writing