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The Wisdom Verses Podcast

The Wisdom Verses Podcast

Auteur(s): t.k.
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 Welcome to The Wisdom Verses Podcast with t.k.!

Who is t.k.? A living myth interrupting ordinariness. Those are perhaps the best words to describe t.k.—the mystic, poet, father, spiritual master, and farmer. Repository of ancient secrets, worker of arcane magics, sage who has gone beyond the touch of birth and death. Those would also be accurate words. In his poems (and in these recordings), t.k. talks to us about the enlightened one’s love affair with appearance. He invites, cajoles, seduces us into a participatory encounter with wisdom bliss.2023 Philosophie Sciences sociales Spiritualité
Épisodes
  • 🔴⚪️

    🔴⚪️
    Jan 22 2025
    In this recording, t.k. discusses this poem:

    Vanity is the name for seeing higher and lower.
    There is a name for judgements, it is conceit.
    Vainglory is the synonym of me and mine.

    Thank you for the teachings that burned.
    Thank you for the blessings that stung.
    Thank you for the grace of knowing loss.
    In my heart there is no more room for the
    image of a stranger.

    Love’s meaning is an immanence of adventure.
    HeartBreak is the intimation of closeness.
    Love and HeartBreak, Her gifts to the hallowed.
    In my heart there is no more room for the
    image of a stranger.

    My life is a slow revealing mystery - joy from pain.
    You too long to see as you have been seen.
    Your life, like mine, is made from infinity lost.
    Kiss Her, your Heart will have no more room for the
    image of a stranger.
    Voir plus Voir moins
    39 min
  • Rasa Lila

    Rasa Lila
    Jan 22 2025
    In this episode, t.k. discusses his poem, "Rasa Lila."

    My hand explores the hemmed edge of your brilliance, true portrait
    of the Holy Face. And light, Oh! the light, pouring out from mystery.

    So we dance flowing, always flowing
    twirling trembling, intimations. Patterns of ice melt light when
    winter’s frost covered grass meets morning’s warming rays. Patterns forming
    dissolving. The profile of a man’s face on the subway becomes tree, graffiti,
    birds, a thousand diamonds of broken glass flying by. And my mind, always
    on the hem of your skirt.

    Once upon a time I held mind at heart in curves and flow of ancient ciphers
    spun out from still point the circle. Secret scripts entangled photic and
    phonic wisdom display.

    (Once upon a time is any? every? time but One Day is always certain.)
    One day mind slipped from still point into the Great Swirling Expanse
    that is the hem of Your garment. Mind, hand, fingers form tumble
    jumbled across in as every thing and everything that is You. And.

    Into that whirlpool bliss bindu palace between your legs where I lay for
    a thousand years lost in delicate sounds like the coo-ing of doves. Well
    you know

    whirlpools draw you in and spin you round. If you resist you die. No
    one can withstand the tug and pull of those currents. But! If you
    surrender, utterly, totally beyond the care of coming and going. Beyond
    the geo fencing of the 8 worldly concerns. Then

    you are pulled down down down and into and of and thrown out on the banks of no more cares.

    This world. That world. Just a bunch of fantasy designed to distract you.eight worldly concerns are

    • hope for happiness and fear of suffering,
    • hope for fame and fear of insignificance,
    • hope for praise and fear of blame,
    • hope for gain and fear of loss;
    Voir plus Voir moins
    32 min
  • Fragile Joys 13

    Fragile Joys 13
    Jan 8 2024
    13.

    Beings are born and die. In spring the plum blossoms and
    the seeing of plum blossoms.

    Enfolding unfolding, blossoming and fruiting.
    The dark revealing, the bright concealing in
    each new relation. Each new

    leaf and flower the totality.

    Possibility impossibility flow in and of each other
    and in the secretmost recesses of the Heart
    unpossibility
    non-darkness
    unlearning
    mysterious
    envelope
    of wholeness.


    In the leaves and branches there is a hidden laughter;
    its roots in the formless, its blossoms appear

    within form.


    Oh, disorderly face of appearance! Oh improbable visage
    of sofas, volcano, landscape, wasteland, three-toed sloth
    and roses, so many roses.

    Hey, appearance!
    Do you hold us captive?
    Do you set us free?


    Or, are you simply going about your business of appearing
    disappearing…
    unexpected entanglements,

    quantum tracings of flower and bud’s atemporal
    relationship before during and of all emergence-

    the formless, strange meeting place, ant’s
    foot and peony sexing.


    In spring the plum blossoms and the seeing of plum
    blossoms.
    Voir plus Voir moins
    29 min

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