3/30/2015

Be Particular


Spirituality does not exist in general, but in particular. It is precision awareness. This wild orange anemone, this sunbeam falling into precisely this raindrop. To love "humanity" is a lie. Never generic, compassion embraces only this homeless mother, this wounded veteran, this fleeting breath...

Consciousness does not awaken as a movement, a party, or a tribe, only as a unique individual. To generalize about human beings is the root of violence.

There are no "white people" or "people of color," no "socialism" or "capitalism," no "Muslim" or "Christian," no "masculine" or "feminine." As soon as I revert to the abstraction, I murder millions.
 
Don't serve "the poor;" serve every person you encounter. Don't free "the oppressed," free the oppresser too. Don't hate the 1% and love the 99. Love is 100% or nothing. And only this particular person can be loved.

Are there no ethical distinctions to make? Of course. There are infinite ethical distinctions. Every now is an ethical distinction.

The radical act is to be present. The revolution is to breathe. Moral courage is to be particular.

Grace


Grace is an impulse from beyond the structures of our own effort. Only grace can bring deep meditation.

Whether our effort is mental, emotional, or physical - jnana, bhakti, or hatha yoga - the state of deep meditation never results from self-will. Any command we give ourselves to relax the body, concentrate the mind, or produce a feeling of peace, will fail. Why?

Because relaxation, concentration, and peace are effects, not causes.


In the stillness of true meditation is infinite rest, where body, breath, feeling and mind repose in the field of transcendental silence, merging back into a single field of energy. Any effort or instruction we could possibly give ourselves, whether to "concentrate" or to "relax" or to "love," can only disturb that ground-state of silence, never draw us into it. For every self-instruction is an action that disturbs stillness. 

This is the paradox: we want to meditate, but real meditation never comes through self-will.

The paradox is solved by Grace. Grace comes from beyond, from outside the knot of our self-effort. A knot cannot untie itself. Only the impulse of the master's Grace allows meditation to happen, without any effort on the part of the meditator - except the decision to be open, and to sit for a period of time. Twenty minutes of grace-full meditation is worth years of sitting without the grace of the master. This is why so many people who try to teach themselves meditation, as if it were a "technique" to be learned and practiced, like a job, achieve little but a sense of pride in how long they have been meditating. They were never initiated into the grace of the master, which flows through the Guru lineage.

Americans are obsessed with independence, individualism, and do-it-yourself achievements. They assume that receiving the initiation of the master means losing their freedom. In fact, the grace of the master is freedom itself.

Grace is like a feather's touch on the crown of the head, the brow, or the heart. It is the subtlest impulse in creation, yet the most powerful, collapsing every structures of thought, dissolving self-will, allowing our attention to repose in absolute stillness, while fully alert. This is turiya, the fourth state of consciousness as defined by the Mandukya Upanishad: beyond waking, dreaming and deep sleep. The state of turiya is known in Yogic philosophy as samadhi, and in Christian mysticism as the prayer of union

This transcendental silence is not just an absence of thought, but a fullness of bliss, ananda. It is boundless, self-luminous, and joyful. Neither a thought or a feeling, it is consciousness alone, illumined by consciousness alone: yet it is awakened by the impulse of another. A candle cannot light itself. The nearness of a flame, already lit, ignites the waiting wick.

To awaken the radiant stillness of effortless meditation is the role of the spiritual master.  This is why we say, "Jai Gur Dev: all gratitude to the Guru."

3/29/2015

Noli Me Tangere


The full moon woke her at four AM. The moon's voice whispered, "Wake up, meditate, become pure light."

So she wandered through the wetlands, disturbing the frogs and mallards, until she came to the wild grove of apple trees and the tomb, the tomb of the past, where they try to bury Masters.

The tomb was empty. Something like a breath had rolled the stone away from Mary's heart. She wept with joy in the garden of the present moment.

Now he is walking toward her among the first Spring flowers, still crystaled with snow. As she reaches out her hand to touch him, he says, "Noli me tangere: do not cling to me!"

Of all hard lessons in the Magdalene's life, this is the hardest. For she loves his form, his glance, the sensuous sway of his white seamless garment, and his tender sandaled feet.

But he is a true master, and a true master says, "Do not worship my form. I am not this face, this gaze. I am not a white robe dancing in the moonlight. I am the burning in your chest. I am your own radiance. Worship the one who shines from the center of your heart. That is who I Am."

"But master, before I met you, I was asleep."

"Mary," Jesus says tenderly, "I gave you a little breath of light. Now you must do your own awakening."

This how Mary becomes an ecstatic outcast, a joyous orphan without a church, a child of moonlight, a paramour of the Lover Within.

Painting: Giovanni Girolamo Savoldo, 1536: Mary Magdalene

3/26/2015

When Is Anger Useful?

When is anger useful and when is it destructive? I have found that when I put anger into action as 'anger,' it is a disaster. But when I take the time to do the inner work of transforming energy, anger is the loam that nourishes seeds of creativity.

First, de-link the energy of anger from the mind by un-naming it, 'anger.' Then just feel its energy, as energy, in the body. Breathe through that energy and follow its pulsating sensations from the forehead to the throat, to the chest. Don't attempt to change it, just observe the sensations in the embrace of awareness.

I discover that anger, as anger, cannot thrive in the clear air of awareness. In that spaciousness, anger spontaneously unwinds its pent-up grief and lonliness, melting into useful energy, sparkling energy, delightful energy. I discover that what I called 'anger' was just a knot of empathy, too fearful to express itself.

When I follow anger inward to its source, it is love. Now I am ready to take action.

3/24/2015

A Living Guru

Favorite Tree





My favorite tree, flower, fruit. I was climbing this tree in the garden of Eden when Adam's first wife, Lilith, picked an apple and ate it without guilt, without any "should" or "should not" in her mind. She immediately turned into a serpent with scarlet moth wings and started dancing on her tail. She became my guardian angel. I was an ape. Still am, mostly.

Easter


What seeps through your wound
makes others whole.
Find your scar, that
portal to the chamber of hope,
opened again and again
by April's seasoning fire.


The wound could be your eye
that sees, from its own blackness,
the black center of each creature;
or the birth canal, whose labor is grief,
ellipsis in the scripture of your body.

Let the hollow in you speak,
hear your name in the echo
of all tears ever fallen.

Caesar's nail did not make this,
nor love's thorn in your skull.
A soldier pierced your side
that you might heal him.

The one who reveals this bleeding
does not come down from heaven.
You exude him from the loam
of your body, and from your emptiness
the diamond of fiercest joy.

Now smother the ululation of this storm
in your flesh for three days and nights.
On the third morning, even before
the keening of the raven,
walk among lilies as a woman
who has lost her paramour -

desperate as Mary, careless and bold
as Radha, wild as Ishtar searching
for Tamuz among garlanded tombs.

Find the gardener, do not deny him
when he opens you like the sun.
Be his garden.

(Painting: Rossetti's Mary Magdalene)

3/21/2015

Non-Resistance

When the mind resists, even stillness is chaos. When the mind does not resist, even chaos is stillness.

The quality of the human mind causes the world's tension, conflict, and war - nothing more. The human mind is in a constant state of resistance, creating divisions of party, nation, ethnicity, belief. And these tensions, arising in the mind's resistance, cause all our material crises. There is enough food, enough energy, enough abundance on earth for everyone. It is the mind that stands in the way of healing. We think our problems come from political, social, economic causes, but these problems are effects, not causes. They arise from the contentious and resistant nature of our mind.

If we want to heal our society, our earth, we must begin by healing the mind. And how to heal the mind? Simply drop resistance. Yet so many of our social and political movements are founded on the principle of resistance! They only produce more reaction, more conflict, more resistance.

Whatever we resist will grow. Resistance only increases polarization. It is better to bring attention to the resistance within us, than project it on our "enemy." Resistance only ignites counter-resistance. This is the endless cycle of action-reaction that is called "karma."

I don't have to create karma. I can become aware of resistance in my body, my emotions, my thoughts, then breathe it out. As I breathe out resistance, I can drop the boundaries. I become aware of an infinite space around the resistance, the space beyond the boundaries. That space is outside me and inside me. It is the space of pure compassion.

When resistance melts away, there is boundless space all around my body, and the same boundless space in every atom of my body. Do I have any edges? Is there anything I actually need to resist?

When that space of pure compassion awakens, I become response-able. I can respond to the problem at hand without resistance. This is creative action. Action that responds in the present moment is not re-action, but creativity.

Jesus taught non-resistance. He said, "Resist not the evil one... Love your enemy." He taught exactly what Buddha taught, "Sunya: emptiness." The New Testament calls it "kinosis: self-emptying." The ancient hymn in the Epistle to the Philippians says, "Christ emptied himself." When we empty ourselves of all resistance, we awaken, we respond, we are alive.

3/18/2015

Renunciation of Attachment is Unnecessary

All through our religious history, we've been told to give up the things of this world, to renounce our desires and attachments. "It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of needle, than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God..."

But you don't have to give up desire. Just meet the one who desires. You don't have to renounce your attachments, just get acquainted with the one who is attached. The radiance of your own pure awareness is more blissful than any experience your awareness could cling to.

With the fragrance of the Self, desire for the petals of the non-Self falls away naturally. Contentment arises through the agency of no other. Contentment has no content, but is consciousness alone.

This attrition of desire and attachment happens gradually over 7000 lifetimes, but the process is accelerated a thousand-fold by the practice of Transcendental Deep Meditation. Through the Master's grace, meditation grants unalloyed experience of ananda, the bliss-nectar of pure Being. Jai Guru Dev.

My Mind Takes Off Her Clothes and Runs Naked Through the Meadow


My intellect wanted to pretend that it knew something important. So I divided space into seven planes. I separated emptiness into physical, astral, mental and buddhic worlds, calling some "gross" and others "subtle." I split no-thing into hierarchies of angels and bodhisattvas. I parted the sea of silence into ninety-names. Then I imagined seven lotuses blossoming in the body of suchness.

As I tread water, going nowhere in the ocean of wonder, I pretended that I was on a journey, ever ascending into higher spheres of wisdom. One day I might reach the goal. Perhaps, I thought, when I get there, I will say something profound, probably in Sanskrit. Or I will just hum and call it "the original sound of creation."

But now I stare into the face of my cat, I listen to the song of a baby, I smell the first magnolia, and this little mind-bubble pops. No planes exist, no higher worlds, no hierarchies of celestial beings, no names of divine silence: only the wine of bewilderment. There is nothing to be attained in suchness. Just as it dances, withers, and dies, this body is already the perfect blossom of innumerable galaxies in boundless space.

My mind takes off her clothes and runs naked through the meadow. She will return, smelling of pollen and tadpole streams. When I need to concentrate, I don't call her. She is like a thistle in the breath of the wind. I let her wander til she finds me where I do not know I am.

This path is a circle, the circle a pulsation of its center, the center a dimensionless point, the point a seed of laughter hidden in a tear. That is why the Buddha, when asked for his final teaching, only held up a daisy and smiled.

Many Candles, One Flame

A candle cannot light itself. But once lit, it lights other candles that come near. Enlight- enment is communicative, a community energized through satsang: not just truth, but truth shared. This is the difference between non-duality and solipsism.

It is our work, not my work. It is not the work of aloneness but the work of love. Love doesn't just melt me into the one; love melts us into the one. And the One becomes every drop.

Your dreams affect my dream, mine yours. Your awakening affects my awakening, mine
yours. We awaken each other, or dream each
other. The honey is not brewed by a single bee.

3/16/2015

Irish Melody: St. Patrick's Day

Of all music, it is Irish melody that opens up my chest, not only with simple joy, but simple sadness. When I hear Irish music, I abandon the preference for light over darkness. My heart knows both Winter and Spring. Always, there are two seasons at the core of my healing.

Irish music tells me my tears are the dew that moistens the soil. Irish music tells me that each raindrop kissing the earth is a shattered globe, holding a mote of heartache. What use is a star that does not fall into a seed? Every blossom is a bleeding wound.

Enlightenment is not the end of grieving, but the stillness that contains it, allowing pain to be without edges. I am the sound of the ocean in a shell, rounding my luminous pearl from a grain of stone.

3/15/2015

Penetrating Anger


Don't stop with the mere concept of what makes you angry. Tomorrow the concept will be different, the social, economic or political issue will be new, but exactly the same anger will be there, percolating out of your depths. The concepts we are angry about are just masks for our energy. The truth is, it is our anger that makes us angry.

We don't need to "get our anger out." We need to get into our anger. If someone bothers our mind, it is really our mind that bothers our mind. We can the image of that enemy, the concept of what angers us, but if we penetrate the concept and dive beneath the image into the energy itself, without naming it, we feel this anger as a direct sensation in the body. Then we can let it solidify into a throb. Then we can offer that throbbing energy through the breath and transform it.

Our anger is a sacred energy-flower in the bud, just waiting to bloom and be offered. When we unconditionally offer our anger, it transforms into bliss without any effort. For all our anger ever was is this: a furiously knotted and condensed mass of love.   

Sabbath Blessing



Attend to the blessing. This is your work today. 

Through these eyes, ears and nostrils, blessing flows inward from the dew spark on a thistle, throbbing fragrance of hyacinth, long-awaited April thrush. And through these eyes, ears, nostrils, blessing flows outward, the consecrated ointment of perception.

Both tides, subject and object, are the bubbling incandescence of an instant, dissolving in one sea of Self-Delight. You need not wait for the blessing. The blessing does not come from any master, or angel, or heaven above. Breathe blessing now. It wells up like a tear from within you, enclosing the universe in a drop of dew. You Are the blessing!

The blessing was always already here, in the beginning, before the Word, when the world arose from the clear blue sky of your own awareness. 

Din of Spring peepers in the wetland, pouring from the uncreated silence of your listening. Green tendrils of water lily, sprouting from the darkest ground of your stillness. Stars that seem beyond the moon, floating in abysmal mirrors of your chest - the perfect polished emptiness that hangs between breaths. 

When you awoke at first light, did the blessing not spill from your face, sprinkling the city with healing? When you opened your eyes, did you not anoint the sun, the snow-bright mountains, pearls of trillium in the cedar forest? 

Earth is bejeweled in the tincture of your amazement. Come a little nearer now. This is your work. Attend to the blessing. Watch where it begins. See the seer.

3/14/2015

Gateh, Gateh, Para Gateh




Transcend thinking to sharpen the intellect. Go beyond
sensation to refresh the senses. Pass through the atomic
structure of the body, into the dimensionless vacuum,
to nourish every particle of flesh. Water the seed hidden
in dark loam, and leave the blossoming to sun and sky.
This is the dynamic secret of meditation.

"Gateh, gateh, para gateh,
parasam gateh, bodhi svaha!

"Gone, gone, gone beyond,
gone beyond the beyond: hail the Go-er!"

Journey of Gazes


My spiritual path has been a journey of gazes. The eyes of the Other an infinity sign that leads me to the Self. Gaze of friend and perfect stranger, gaze of lover and teacher, gaze of the animal kingdom, gaze of my infant daughter, my mother, my wife, O gaze of my gaze.

Yet through these sparkling corridors of darshan, there were three gazes above all others that took me to the highest peak, where Dante stood with Beatrice, and saw through her eyes the empyrean.

The first Great Darshan was the gaze of a fawn. My wife and eye were just married, walking through a Maryland corn field. We came upon a newborn deer. We could only spend a moment there, for the mother doe was stamping the ground furiously at the edge of the forest. But just for a moment we gazed into those wide blue eyes, the bluest eyes I ever saw. Only my daughter's blue eyes come close to that bejeweled Shakti. The only word that comes to mind is "familiar." The eyes of that fawn made the entire animal kingdom and the whole earth familiar. I felt welcomed and warmed into the planetary community. Ever since passing through those eyes of faun blue, I've known that animals, angels, and human beings all share one Soul, playing through myriad facets in the diamond of God-Consciousness.

The second Great Darshan was the gaze of a dolphin. My young family was spending a week at the Jersey Shore, in Avalon. It was late June, solstice time; every morning I would go to the beach at dawn, practice Sudarshan Kriya and Transcendental Meditation, then swim a mile out beyond the breaking waves in the rising sun. Swimming along quite a distance from shore, I suddenly saw an enormous shadow-form silently sweep beneath me. My heart shuddered with primordial fear of the deep and the unknown. I stopped and looked around. A face emerged about three yards in front of me, with perhaps the most intelligent and benign expression I've ever beheld. A smile of respect, parental care, and benediction, with a gaze of unconditional love enfolded me. I was filled with a certainty that I was protected, both on earth and among the stars, by a much more advanced and ancient race of Friends.

The third Great Darshan, the peak of my journey, was a meeting with Sri Sri Ravi Shankar at a course in Nova Scotia, back in 1991. Courses were small and intimate in those days, and on the final night I managed to visit alone with Punditji in his room for quite a while. Even in those days, there was silly talk, as there always is among folks who spend too much time in an ashram environment. They were arguing about whether he was Jesus come again, or Krishna, or Shankara. That kind of fluffiness turns me off, because people need to grow up and honor their own time, their own Being, instead of idolizing the past.

So I spoke to Punditji about it. Then I asked, "Are you really a great avatar from ages past? I need to know who you really Are."

He said, "No, no. I am Nobody." And he meant it. That is when I began to see. I gazed into his eyes, twin galaxies spiraling toward the formless source of creation, through billions of stars of grace. Those eyes were the wells of eternity where I fell inward and outward at once, like a thrown pebble, like a lost meteor, in the motionless explosion of a Rose. This was the flowering of divine love. Jai Guru Dev.

(Photo of Sri Sri Ravi Shankar courtesy of my dear friend Scott Hague.)

3/13/2015

Does AM Need An I?

When we say, I Am, does the verb need a subject? Does Am need I?

To this question, one answers: ‘Yes, because an observer is required.’

Another replies: ‘No! You don't need an observer. The identification of pure consciousness with mind creates an I, and this I is confounded with consciousness. When the identification ceases, then there is pure consciousness but no I. Everything - objects, thoughts, feelings - remain as they are, but there is no I to claim these phenomena for itself. Then there is witnessing without a witness. For example, we say, "It is raining." But what “it” does the raining? There is no “it” that rains. Just raining.’

Both answers are correct.

Existence celebrates existence by observing its Self, delighting in its Self. Thus existence produces an I as its agency of Self-Delight.

This glorious dance of Self-observation is not a problem or a cause of ignorance. One dances as Two through the agency of a momentary I, and I am merely the play of consciousness with it Self.

The problem arises when I attempt to give myself duration, to fix I as a permanent construct, separate from what is observed.

Insisting on being a permanent I separates my life from the wholeness, the continuum of existence where subject and object are one field. That is when my suffering begins. I am haunted by the constant sense that something is broken, something is wrong, I am incomplete, I am a "sinner." And it is true: something is broken, for I have broken myself away from existence.

Why not let each momentary I be a snowflake, uniquely appearing, instantly dissolving? Can I be a sparkle of light on the ocean waves, dancing for this moment, then disappearing into radiance?

I am never one moment old. I keep dissolving like a spark into the fire. Yet the fire of the Self keeps dancing and generating new sparks of I. In this dance, there is absolutely no difference between creation and destruction.

That is Shiva's grace. Shiva becomes this sparkling I for an instant of perception, just to awaken again and recognize Himself through another. The dance of Shiva's Self-recognition and Self-annihilation is perpetual bliss, ananda.

Ananda is eternal, lasting less than an instant.

3/12/2015

My Soul Mate Is My Soul

  

There is a Light in the mind that the mind cannot know, shining before knowledge. Can I taste this Light, which satisfies every kind of thirst - for wine, for caresses, for God?

Have I met this Light, who is the one Companion in all relationships? Have I wedded this Light, who awaits me in my heart, more intimate than me to myself? 

Have I gazed into the countenance of Christ, Krishna, Mother Divine, and seen that these are the rays of my innermost face?

I spent lifetimes searching for a soul mate, moving from lover to lover, guru to guru - which is the same quest - looking for the right person. Yet the right person dwelled in the core of my own chest, patiently abiding until the homecoming, longing for my longing to remember its source. In a thousand hints a day I denied my Beloved's whisper. Yet every leaf and raindrop spoke to me, "Dissolve your search in bewilderment! Embrace Me through whatever you perceive this moment, an apple bud whose seams are bursting, an earthworm turning through mud toward the galaxy of a dahlia bulb."

This is the secret: my soul mate is my soul. By being two, I awaken the one. By being one, I radiate the other.

Most of our relationships are just needs. One may feel, I need you. Or even, I need to be needed. But needing is not love. Love happens when the stream of need subsides in its spring. When one witnesses the motionless explosion of one's own heart, there is contentment. And the overflowing of that contentment is love. Until then, love cannot reveal itself unless love hides in its own shadow. That is the game love plays.

"For the God who said, Let light shine out of darkness, has shined in our hearts with the light of the knowledge of divine glory, shining in the face of Christ" (2 Corinthians 4:6). This Christ face shines from my heart as my own Self.

3/10/2015

Where Do We Go?

~Where do we go when we die?
~The next world.
~Where is the next world?
~Inside.
~Is it a higher world than this one?
~It is the light this one is made of.
~How can I see it?
~Feel the luminous throb of a humming photon cloud around an electron
in one flowering atom of your body, then unwhirl yourself to the spiralling
star at the heart of the nucleus.
~This could be a dance.
~It is a dance.
~This sounds like music.
~It is music.
~It seems that when we die, we don't go anywhere. What do we do?
~Dissolve into Who You Are.
~Is it hard?
~How hard could it be to drop what you are not?

3/09/2015

iWatch

 "Time is what keeps the light from reaching us. There is 
no greater obstacle to God than time..." ~Meister Eckhart

I'm pretty sure I won't be getting an Apple iWatch
in this lifetime: I gave up wrist watches years ago.
I'm going to wait until it actually does something new,
like show an icon of a door, which when you touch it
or whisper a secret bija into the mandala watch face,
becomes a portal to the center of the galaxy sucking
you in, transporting your whole body to a golden beach
by a shimmering emerald sea under the sapphire sky
on Brahma Loka, where Guru Dev is sipping soma
mai tai cocktails with little parasols sticking out of the ice.
Now that is a watch I would wind up and wear on my wrist!

3/08/2015

Fallow Time




The unexpected holds infinitely more potential for the miraculous than the expected. I leave wild fallow acres of unplanned time in my schedule, Sabbath time, time for a butterfly to alight on a blossoming weed.

3/07/2015

Confession

I confess that I have dropped out of all organizations, religious or secular, that preach the dogmas of the Left. This feels as wonderful as liberation from the dogmas of the Right. Freedom is the fresh air between thoughts. For me, the only political movement is the radical revolution of this breath.

As far as I can tell, the Left is a secular form of fundamentalism as dogmatic as the Right. Both Left and Right are so identified with anger, they wouldn't know who they are without it. 


Each side comforts itself by blaming the usual suspects, their favorite scape-goats, for all the problems of a world too complex for the mind to grasp. The Right blames government regulation; "foreign" religions (especially Islam); and the poor, particularly poor people of color.

Equally simplistic, the Left blames successful business entrepreneurs (evil capitalists); American foreign policy (which seems to cause all the violence on earth); and "white privilege," which is the original sin of being born Caucasian.

I thank God for delivering me from the bondage of political correctness! Many of us have freed ourselves from old religions. But now is the time to free ourselves from old politics.

Does this mean I am uncommitted? No, I commit to clarity. I commit to the generosity of Presence. I commit to a love that doesn't need to argue because it is empty enough to listen. Let my political home be the space that contains all all points of view, without being contained by any of them.

This space is compassion. We enter it by saying, "I don't know."

3/03/2015




When thinking kills Silence, we have already 
planted the seed of war. When thinking dissolves 
into the Listener, we have already planted 
the seed of peace. And when the mind ceases all
resistance, chaos is stillness.

3/02/2015

Only You



Our deepest dream is that someone else will take care of us. Waking is scary and marvelous. Then giving begins. The camellia blossoms in Winter. She is a wise flower. Either cry for milk, or become the breast. Be the Mother of your own heart. In the end, only you can take care of you. 


3/01/2015

Pathless


I breathe in darkness and breathe out light, but breath is not my Way. I savor the name of God, but the Word is not my Way. I honor the guru, but my path has no master.

With no ancient chant, no alter, no puja ceremony, I walk in the forest, offering the silence of cedar, trillium, and fern. My chest melts with love, yet bhakti is not my path.

Though I honor the songs and suras of the wise, I follow not the Vedas, the Torah, the Qur'an. I give to those in need, but the path of seva is not for me. I surrender, Lord. But even You, even You, are not my Way.

My Way is not a journey. This bud opens in every direction at once. There are no steps, only fragrance and dissolving.

Every religion is one petal. But I would offer the whole flower. Each lineage of masters is a mote of pollen. But I have sticky feet. I visit the center, where the pollen is made in secret darkness.

My way is the shattering of every window between seer and seen, the sinking of all boats in one ocean of transparency. One moment gazes into the well of eternal aloneness, where past and future drown. This is my Way.

The annihilating kiss of light upon light in the bridal chamber of a single eye: this is my Way. It is the motionless explosion of a rose, containing the scent of all paths.

Down where the pistil and stamen touch in a throb of stillness, I make honey. Come, drink from my heart.