Archive for April, 2011


Tuesday, April 26th, 2011

Wednesday, March 12th, 2008

By Roy Dean Doughty
Written 3/3/ 06, Chennei, India

Oblivious, the taxi driver stands ankle-deep
In pouring rain, stows bags possessing
What he never shall, then threads his little vehicle
Through the motliest herd of conveyances —
Busses, mopeds, bicycles, tricycles, tankers,
Carts pulled by lumbering oxen with painted horns —
Each one lurching forward at its own speed,
While he, the taxi driver, constantly caresses
His staccato horn, as if its harmless bird-chirp
Were actually the force which displaced
The careening tonnage of jerry-rigged lorries
For that critical hair’s breadth which affords us
A sighing safe passage.
Here is filth already millennia old before the birth of Christ,
Shining on a ground which reeks of petroleum,
Feces, garbage and sanctity.

Inside what remains of our minds,
The usual whirl of thoughts,
Even in the midst of this crowded, streaming, steaming bustle,
Floats down corridors of cloud-smudged stars
To someplace were starlight and moonlight and sunlight
Are one. India. Now her immemorial potencies
Of passion and silk and marble
Rises from that deep well which has birthed
And enriched and impoverished billions of souls —
Tiger and elephant and lowly rat and human —
All writhing together with clashing bracelets and anklets
In that love-making which never starts nor ends,
But where we, in our insulated bed,
Meet in a mating which falls like sun-soaked rain.

Wednesday, March 12th, 2008

By Roy Dean Doughty
Written 3/20 06, Ananda Loka 3, India

The dawn uncoils her peace with a silent,
A breathless ferocity, pouring streams of white
Down the igneous orchard rows, while she,
Lean, four-footed mother, stands patiently,
As her biting brood clamors beneath her.
Her pups know only their own convulsive hungers,
Their desires for food, for sex, their desire to give birth
To themselves, which she, as the milk-maker,
Gives first to one leaf, then another,
Then, in an orgy of uterine trembling,
As torch to driest tinder, she copiously feeds
Her whitest of white fires to all the children of the day.
The mountains stand sentinel to her tenderness,
As we, all fire ourselves, burn with the self-same ardor,
Living and dying our ten billion dramas
As if this divine conflagration were the most
Mundane of occurrences — which it is.
Now as the mother and child, the one fire in innumerable flames,
Fall sweetly down to ashes, the coil uncoiling,
The pups collapse into sleep,
And her ocean of flames becomes an ocean of honey.

Swan Song
Wednesday, March 12th, 2008

By Roy Dean Doughty
Written 8/21/01, Golden City Campus One, India

On the last day of the world, the remnants
Of the true believers will suddenly, and a little
Sadly, realize that the temple was never devised
To be completed, that the great marble edifice
With its cupolas and minarets, its impressive arches
And spiraling ziggurats, will be home only
To a few feral dogs, its porticoes echoing
With the clatter of pigeon wings. Amidst
The construction debris, these ghosts will be
Ascending the concrete stairs, viewing
What is left of the last day, golden sheets
Of tropical squalls slanting rain across
Green lines of small, hysterical trees
That will never grow large enough to shade
The boulevards, and the sky, its vast dome
Shattered with the incomplete grandeur
Of trying to express too many things, will be
An enormous hovel of broken rainbows,
Of massive thunderheads, purple and orange
And white, of the sinking last day sun,
And of the final, never to be full, half-moon,
Silvered and set against the foil of an impossible cerulean.
On the last day, the revenants, not wholly sincere,
Will realize they were actors who had forgotten
Their lines, and each one, each devotee, will be
The one speaker of a tongue shared by no other.
They will gather, these ghosts, of the primeval, dying mind,
In a last stand of flesh against the onslaught
Of eternity, holding hands in a circle beneath
The darkening dome, and they will chant, forlornly,
Happily, words they do not understand.

Maternal Caress
By Roy Dean Doughty
Written 12/4/09

The full moon begins to wane,
Not for lack of sustenance,
But because of a desire
For darkness coincident
With the season. Winter:
The dry snow filling the cracks
In the parched earth,
Where even the wild doe
Steps sensitively, not wanting,
With her soft, long ears,
To hear the breakage
Of frozen, summer herbage.

What is it about the victory of cold
That makes us shudder,
And deny it its due honor,
That dark general’s mother,
Moving armorless through the fields,
Gathering the sad relics of spent armies,
And holding high council only with solitude?

The night is still amazingly luminous,
And as the frost touches her enormous presence,
The winds that lashed the day lie motionless,
The crisp breath silvering the clear air,
And birthing, for a moment, a ragged comfort.
Yes, even in desolation, she offers rest,
A place of warmth, where this vast frigidness,
Shrinks down to the small circumference of her arms.
Fierce Gardener
By Roy Dean Doughty
Written 2/10/11

It is a long, long trek over rugged country,
And to make it there,
You will have to portage much that is burdensome,
Though returning, you will, you must be naked.
But there you will confront,
In the remnants of an old, old forest,
The ancient, burned-out stump of a once-great tree.
The stump, though only a stump,
Will be gigantic,
And its force will revolve above you
In the green, blue lights
Of an intense,
But strangely impersonal
It is that thing
Buried or burrowing,
Deep, in the body’s tissues,
Like a rogue oppressor,
Vigilant, ruthless,
Almost untouchable —
And as you stand before this Titan,
So like a planet observed from outer-space,
It is anything but dead,
Though its mass is all burns and scars and terrible splinters.
Yet still, so still,
There is a potency interred in its harsh corpse,
Hostile to every pretence of human conscience,
And steeped in the throes of a tragic martyrdom,
So different than that of saints or would-be saints.
And when you have seen this, felt this,
Touched this inner, almost-untouchable thing,
The tissue in which its hunger has been buried
Begins to bleed,
Not blood,
But something brighter.
You may leave The Presence,
And journey home,
Feeding on your desires along the way.
And you will seem the same to those you live with,
The same, perhaps, even to yourself,
But you will be growing,
Deep inside your body,
The seed of one
Who knows the life
In death.

Sri Bhagavan – The Awakened One….

Tuesday, April 26th, 2011

A webcast teaching for week of May 8st – May 14th with Sri Bhagavan:
“The Awakened One allows things to happen their own way.
The unawakened one tries to make things happen one’s own way.”
“The Awakened One is constantly unlearning and therefore continuously unburdened, lives in freedom.
The unawakened one is constantly learning and therefore continuously burdened and does not know what freedom is and hence what living is.”

“The Awakened One does not know or understand, but sees.
The unawakened one knows and understands, but does not see.”

“The Awakened One has nothing to defend and therefore does nothing to feel secure.
The unawakened one has a lot to defend and therefore must do things to feel secure.”

“The Awakened One sees the imperfect as perfect in itself; and hence rejoices in the way things are.
The un-awakened one sees imperfection everywhere; and hence he is unhappy and dissatisfied with the way things are.
The un-awakened one must therefore work to change things. This too is perfect for the Awakened One. ”

“The Awakened One has no sense of being and doing. The Awakened One has no vision or goal in mind. There is just doing. The Awakened One is humble, and does not practice humility.
The unawakened has a sense of being and doing, and therefore must have a vision or goal in mind. The unawakened must practice humility.

“When One is not Awakened One must not behave like one.
When One is Awakened One practices nothing. One is just Awake.
To be Awake is not a means to an end.
To be Awake is an end in itself.
When One is not Awake One must practice goodness.
Where there is no goodness One must practice virtue.
Where there is no virtue One must practice ritual conditioning. “

“Thoughts are subtle, divisive and elusive; and an expression of the self. They wander as they like. They create judgment and a troubled and disturbed mind. They prevent Awareness from happening. The unawakened must learn to direct, to control and to quiet thoughts by ruling over them. The Awakened One has moved beyond judgment, for he has gone beyond thought; as he is always ‘Aware’. “

“The Awakened One does nothing; but leaves nothing undone; for all things are happening all the time around and through the Awakened One. “

“The Awakened One neither suppresses nor ignores, neither resists nor justifies what is there, inside or outside; but merely is aware of the what is.

“The Awakened One does not perceive anything as good or bad; or as right or wrong; and hence has no preferences; and therefore does not try to change the way things are.”
“The Awakened One achieves nothing; for there is nothing to be achieved.
The Awakened One understands nothing; for there is nothing to be understood.
The Awakened One knows nothing; for there is nothing to be known.”

” The Awakened One knows that there is nothing to learn; what is needed is only to unlearn. “
“The Awakened One has no fixed plans and no destination.
The Awakened One accepts oneself; and the world accepts the Awakened One.
The Awakened One knows oneself; and hence has wisdom.
The Awakened One has no conflict with oneself; and hence has true power.
The Awakened One embraces death; for there is no death for the Awakened One.”
” The Awakened One sees things as they are, and doesn’t try to control or shape them.
The Awakened One doesn’t try to convince others.
The Awakened One knows that what is to happen will happen; and what is not to happen will not happen; and that the universe is forever out of control.”
” The Awakened One does not try to change the world. It is perfect and sacred to the Awakened One. “
“The Awakened One has no will and no illusions. The Awakened One merely dwells in reality.”

“The Awakened One sees the world emerging from the void; therefore accept the world as it is. As the Awakened One accepts the world as it is, the Awakened One is established in the primal Self.”
“The Awakened One is open to all people and all situations and flows with them.”
“The Awakened One journeys without journeying.”

“The Awakened One remains unmoving till perfect action arises by itself. The Awakened One is free of all views and concepts; is One with the what is”

“The Awakened One is one with that which was there before the universe was born. It is the one which is eternally present, the unborn and the undying, one without a beginning and an end, ever unchanging, solitary, empty, infinite, blissful, the eternal ‘I’.”

“The Awakened One is open to everything and everything falls into place.”

“The Awakened One remains unmoving, and action arises by its self. The Awakened One allows things to come and go like clouds in the sky. The Awakened Ones sustains all beings without trying to.”

“The Awakened One sees the world as himself or herself. Loves and cares for the world as one’s self. To the Awakened One all things are perfect as they are.”

“The Awakened One is detached from all things, and hence, is one with everything. Detachment when practiced leads to indifference which is not detachment.”

“The Awakened One is empty and therefor capable. One should not try to empty one’s self.”

“The Awakened One, acts without doing anything, this cannot be practiced”


Tuesday, April 26th, 2011

New Internet based radio station, ONENESS.FM. The heart and brain child of Rev. Patricia Keel, this new platform for world-wide distribution of the Oneness Phenomenon is airing its first show on Thursday, May 28th at 2pm. The station will eventually feature show hosts from around the world, who themselves have become deeply involved in sharing the Oneness Blessing and spreading the vision and energies of Oneness University in india. (

Patricia will launch the station with her own signature show, The ONENESS PROGRAM, which is a 2011 version of a live san Francisco-based program she and her partner, Roy Doughty hosted in 2008 and 2009. The new show’s format will bring guests and musicians from the Oneness movement to interact and share about their personal experiences of awakening and transformation through the power of the Oneness Phenomenon.

The first show which airs on April 28th at 2pm is Oneness and Poetry, a reunion with Poet and partner, Roy Doughty. Roy shares five poems on the show, and tells listeners about his new book of poems written during the time of his Mother’s passing, Clear Mo(u)rning.. There is a page on this website with the poems for listeners to enjoy.

Shameless promotion: Roy and Patricia are leading a Retreat at Ananda Village in Northern California over Memorial Day Weekend. See the listing on the right side bar of the website for more information and to pre-register.