Embrace bewilderment: be wild.

There is a forest of entangled miracles at the center of your heart. There Jesus calls his disciples, "Come away by yourselves into a wild place and rest awhile" (Mark 6:31).  He wants to recharge their energy with untamed innocence.

In the Old Testament, God calls Israel back to the wilderness: "I remember the unfailing devotion of your youth, the love of your bridal days, when you followed me into the wilderness, through a land unsown." (Jeremiah 1)

"True comprehension is bewilderment," wrote the young Martin Luther, when he was learning from Rhineland mystics like Meister Eckhart and Johann Tauler. Later, when Luther turned politician, he lost his inner powers, renounced mystical innocence, took up dogma, and joined the patriarchy.

Tauler wrote that God is "a simple hidden wilderness beyond being," and "a wilderness incomprehensibly wild... where multiplicity is lost in unity" (Sermon 60). Rhineland mystics like Tauler had nurtured the Protestantism of the radical reformers. They were almost entirely exterminated, not by the Catholic Church, but by Lutherans and Calvinists. Imagine how different Western history would have been had the Reformation kept its roots sunk in the mystics, rather than transplanting itself to the arid pseudo-rationalism of the Puritans!

Thus we now must look back to the Roman Catholic roots of mystical Christianity, especially among the Rhineland mystics, where Celtic monks from Ireland had been the first missionaries, rather than monks from Rome.

In the French version of the Arthurian Grail story, La Quest de la Sainte-Grale, the anonymous author, probably a Cistercian monk, tells us that "each knight chose to enter the forest where it was most overgrown, and there was no path."

The pathless wilderness where we meet God need not be on a mountaintop, in a desert, or forest. Wherever we are, even in the midst of market place or urban jungle, we may enter the wild places of the Heart, and be lost in Love.


When you meditate,
stop all that reaching
upward for the sun.
Bodies of joy don't fly.
They are weighted down
with jewels of emptiness,
pearls of compassion.
Sink deeper than these ripples
where small fish swim and
thoughts nibble your toes.
I mean drown, drown
in the silence that swells
with waveless solitude,
and names are swallowed
by the Sea of Unknowing.
Don't worry about your breath.
There, one inhalation lasts
forever, one prayer sigh
brings you Home.
When you emerge from
those waters, dripping starlight,
waders on the shore will
whisper, "Who is that
gleaming creature of darkness?"

And you will sing to them
about the radiant
treasures of the deep.



"Love is like an aroma, like a current, like rain."
~Frieda Kahlo

Leap into the stream of annihilation. The past does not exist. The future does not exist. There is no present moment, no resting place, no state of being or point of reference called now. Now is not a noun but a verb, a verb that signifies perpetual dissolving.

How long will you cling to illusory images of time, fleeting sensations of a solid world? These images exist only in the mind. These sensations are a shimmering mirage of emptiness, fluctuations in a vacuum, to be witnessed and enjoyed, but never possessed.

Why not relinquish every attempt to grasp a permanent object, a permanent mind, a permanent me? Simply dive into the stream of death, which is the stream of beauty, which is the stream of birth.

This never-ending flow of dissolution seems terrifying, does it not? That is because you are standing outside it. You are standing on the shore.
Those who have the courage to leap in and lose every-thing will discover, through an instant trembling flash of eternity, the true nature of this river, which is bliss.


Coming Om

The sound of the Omkara mantra contains all possible alphabets, and all the harmonics of sacred geometry expressing the physics of creation. But 'Aum' must be de-mystified. Just listen to your body hum...
When Jesus said, 'I am Alpha and Omega, the first and the last,' he was referring to the beginning and end of the alphabet, contained in the resonance of 'Aah' and 'Ouu.' These are not only the interior sounds of Aum, but the two-syllables in the Tetragramaton, most sacred name of the Lord in Biblical tradition. Of course, 'Ah' and 'Ouu' are also the sweet and by no means esoteric sounds of your own breathing...
In Aum, 'Ah' and 'Ouu' end in a dimension-less point of vibrant silence, the hum of infinite possibility. Mmmmm... This point is called 'Ayin soph' in Hebrew, 'Bindhu' in Sanskrit. Writing Aum in Sanskrit, the Bindhu is simply a dot over the whole figure. In that soundless hum, innumerable universes arise and dissolve. After chanting Aum, you can feel this boundless dot just above the crown of your head, where your soft spot, the fontanelle, never really closed...
Let the sound of 'Ahh' resonate in your belly. Let the sound of 'Huu' resonate in your heart. Let the sound of 'Mmm' resonate in your brain, massaging every neuron. Your brain is a beehive, cells buzzing with the healing music of Aum. Now feel the silence of vast space above your crown...
There is no priestly secret about Aum, reserved for gurus. Aum is the sound of your own body, being created this very moment out of a divine Breath.
According to Mandukya Upanishad, 'The sound of Om is the universe. Whatever has existed, whatever exists, whatever shall exist, is Om.' The opening words of John's Gospel echo the Upanishad: 'In the beginning was the Word... all that is created, is created through the Word.' A Vedic verse declares, 'Adau Bhagavan shabdha rasahih: In the beginning, the Lord manifested the universe through a stream of sound.' Modern physics confirms that all matter is really made from waves of abstract energy, resonant fields of the silent vacuum.
Aum is the primordial play of infant's speech. Mantras were our first language, and Aum contains all mantras, all names of God. In moments when we are truly happy, in a state of wonder, how do we speak? We return to that original language. We do not preach philosophy or metaphysics, or shout political slogans. We utter the primal mantras of creation: the sounds of consciousness celebrating its integration with a human body:
Ah. Oh. Hey! Wow! Hi! Mama. Papa. Mmm... And even now, when we question someone's existence, we ask, 'Whom'? But the ancient sound of 'whom' was not a question. It was the answer. 'Huum' is a heart mantra, the 'unstruck sound' of the 'anahata' chakra: vibration of the cosmos emanating from our own awareness at rest in its eternal source.
'Huu' is a name of God in both Islamic and Jewish mysticism. Sufi's chant, 'Alla' Hu, Alla'Hu, Alla'hu.' 'Huum' is the bija mantra that ends the central prayer of Tibetan Buddhism, locating God as the jewel in the center of the heart lotus: 'Om Mani Padme Hum.'
If you want to meditate on the deepest name of God, listen to the sound of your own physiology, resonating from the silence of the void. If you want to understand the science of mantra, become like a child: sing praises from your heart.
I offer this mad babble to celebrate National Poetry Month. Shelley wrote in his Defense of Poetry, 'Poets are the unacknowledged legislators of the world.' He was speaking of the sacred power of language that is EVERY human's birthright.
Don't speak a second-hand language! Don't let the words of religious dogma, politics, or the media's talking heads co-opt your divine voice. In your own flesh, discover your Word of creation. Use it to bless and heal the world. Name yourself. Name the earth. You are a creator, and creation begins with the Word.
Om Sat Naam!


The Mirror of Creation Is Inside You

The cosmos is nothing but the dance of pure awareness becoming aware of its Self (Shiva) through the energy of its own inherent bliss (Shakti).

Though empty of form, the diamond wonder of self-awareness vibrates with ananda, and these waves of bliss shape themselves into sub-nuclear particles. Therefor the world is made out of your own consciousness.

Become hollow and witness awareness overflow through your senses, spilling from your eyes, your nostrils, your ears, your tongue, into meadows and trees, mountains, rivers, and clouds. Rooted in the emptiness of naked attention, each sensation is the the first moment of creation, when God says, "Let there be light!"

But who is "God"? The symmetry of stillness breaks into fluctuations, oscillating mathematical equations in the vacuum, discharging gravitons and quarks out of no-thing. The formless void - in Hebrew, "tohu w'bohu" - is not a trope from Buddhism, but from the opening verses of Genesis.

Therefor, as founding quantum physicist Sir Arthur Eddington wrote, "the stuff of the world is mind-stuff."* Matter is made of immaterial awareness, trembling in its own blissful nature; and in this profusion of ecstatic emptiness there is no external agent, no creator.

Existence itself is the creator. Goddess Shakti, the dancing energy of the cosmos, appears as a virtual-reality image on the clear screen of awareness, which is Shiva.

The temple garden of Vrindavan, where Radha and Krishna make perpetual love, is the transcendental architecture of your own abysmal stillness. The mathematics of this sacred geometry is inherent in pure silence when silence becomes self-aware. This virtual space, created by the self-referring movement of consciousness through its own void, is an empty number-set generating all geometrical forms in the vacuum-field of infinite possibility.

Thus Sir James Jeans (another great founding quantum physicist)* wrote, "The Great Architect of the Universe now begins to appear as a pure mathematician." He affirmed that from the perspective of modern science, this is "a world created out of pure intelligence."

But is not through science that you finally know the secret of creation; it is through wonder. Find the wordless depth of prayer in the midnight quiet between two breaths. Here, in divine darkness, is the bridal chamber where Christ meets Magdalene, Krishna meets Radha, Shiva witnesses the dance of Shakti, and the world is born.

An infinitesimal seed is planted in your heart's core, yet it enfolds boundless fertility, containing the cosmos in a yearning zero. This seed is waiting to be germinated by the silent golden ray of your bewilderment.

An ancient yogic text, Vijnana Bhairava, declares: "The supreme Goddess, whose nature is to create, constantly expresses herself as exhalation and inhalation. By resting awareness in the space of the heart, between the descending and ascending breaths, one experiences Bhairava, the source of creation."

Dear one, the mirror is inside you. Awake, gaze, and be astonished. When you are astonished, you re-create the world.


See "Quantum Questions: Mystical Writings of the Great Physicists," edited by Ken Wilber (Shambala Press, 1985)

Also: "The Mysterious Universe" by Sir James Jeans (Cambridge University Press, 2009; originally published in 1930)

And: "The Nature of the Physical World" by Sir Arthur Eddington. Original lectures from 1927, now available from Timless Wisdom Collection (2005)

Behold the Lilies

"We cannot live in a world that is not our own, in a world that is interpreted for us by others. An interpreted world is not a home. Part of the terror is to take back our own listening, to use our own voice." ~Hildegard of Bingen, 11th C.
Jesus, the wild poet of the Galilean meadows, pointed to this flower and said, "Behold the lillies of the field!" He wanted his disciples to learn everything they needed to know about God by looking at a flower.

Just so, in his final gathering, Buddha held up a little blossom, twirling it in his fingers but saying nothing. Ananda smiled. He understood the complete Dharma through one little flower. 

William Blake, the poet of perception, wrote: "See a world in a grain of sand, and a heaven in a wild flower!" The Kingdom of God is not a theological abstraction, but the break-through of this trillium, one white three-petaled explosion nestled in oceanic furrows of green.

Do not look at this flower through your concept of it. Look at the flower itself, what James Joyce called "the ineluctable modality of the visible."

The flower has no name. It is no-thing, unrestricted by its outline, a gush of revelation breaking into three dimensions from beyond space-time. The flower flows from  unfathomable depths of uncreated Silence, through the mediation of the world, into your eyes. It is an offering to you. In this sacrament of perception, consciousness awakens consciousness through the mystery of matter.

Now, if you are like me and other "educated" Westerners, you do something remarkable at this point on your forest walk. You flee from revelation into thinking. Turning to your hiking partner, you ask, "What is that flower's name?" The other replies, "It's a trillium." She may even nail it down with Latin: "trillium grandiflorum."

What has just happened? You have settled for a concept, a verbal description of reality, rather than suffering the nameless onslaught of Radiance.

You closed your eyes to the incarnation of the Wordless, the silent offspring of Father Consciousness and Mother Matter. You replaced the living Christ with a ghost of thought. Sometimes names kill. Sometimes we need to un-name things.

The world is a Mystery. According to the Greek fathers of the primitive Church, a Mysterion is a transforming encounter with the divine, beyond names and beyond intellect. Creation ex nihilo, from nothing, is a Mysterion. The incarnation of God in a human body is a Mysterion. The Sin of ignorance, our refusal to acknowledge that we live in God's perpetual miracle, is a Mysterion. These early theologians were mystics who refused to define the mystery, for a Mysterion must be experienced, not conceived.

In the Middle Ages, however, Christianity lost much of its power and grace when scholastic intellectuals attempted to define as dogma what is really only available to the intuition as mystery.

When we define the Mysterion through our intellect, we super-impose an ashen gray world of our own creation upon God's miracle. We impose the parallel world of our thought, our incessant mental commentary, on the nameless radiance of the Mysterion.

Frightened by the every-changing fluidity of experience, we try to solidify the world with names, freezing the verb of God into a noun. Thus we dwell, not in the world, but in our description of the world.

In God's revelation to Moses, Exodus 3, Moses asks for God's name. But the Divine refuses to become a noun. God reveals only the verb, I AM. Perhaps this was the lost commandment which God wrote on the tablet of the law that was shattered: "Thou shalt not conceive a name for the world."

A stream of Radiance flows toward us from the world, yearning to touch our hearts by the sacramental power of eye, ear, tongue, fingertip and nostril. A similar stream of Radiance flows from within us, outward toward the world through these same gateways of sensation, yearning to touch the incarnate. The Radiance that flows toward us and the Radiance that flows out of us meet in sensation, one and the same Light. The Light was divided, by a trick of perception, into subject-object duality, just so that we might awaken this radiant unity.

Divine Light pulsates in the play of subject and object. This is the dance of Shiva and his consort, Shakti. She becomes mother-matter in order to dance with consciousness, to delight Him, to return the offering of his creative fire through every form. Therefor, when we reunite the light within us and the light outside us, through any mere sacrament of the commonplace, perceiving the shudder of a leaf or the glimmer of a dragonfly's wing, we allow God and his Spirit to make love, uniting themselves in us, through our act of human sensation.

This is the bliss which re-unites the shattered world and heals it. Duality appears out of the One, so that duality may dissolve into the One. This is the eternal dance of Shiva and Shakti. And it is nothing esoteric or other-worldly. It is no more than the simple delight of our sensations when we are fully awake.

Let us call this reunion of creation and creator, Radiance. You may call it what you like. But it is a new kind of substance, the substance of Grace. The New Earth will be formed out of this radiant substance. It is neither matter nor spirit, but something sensuously transcendent, divinely sensual. And the quiet moment-by-moment experience of this unity, through a mindful perception of the ordinary, is our true vocation on the earth.

We are created for Self-Delight.
Why then do we create an artificial veil of thought between the world and awareness, an ashen layer of names and concepts? Some of us spend our whole lives building this ghostly gray wall of thought. Are we frightened of drowning in the blessed radiance of sensation? But who is drowning? The very same divine Light out of whom the object of sensation is made...

Blake wrote, "We were put here for a little while to learn to bear the beams of love." Humans can hardly endure such unfiltered beams. We cover our eyes, not with our hands, but with the concepts of our mind.

Then we need some patient old shamanic farmer to point out what is. We need poets to show us that the world is a dew of Spirit, condensed into matter. We need the bard to sing us the ancient Celtic spell: "Morning has broken, like the first morning!" In truth, this world is not even one moment old. We've tried to make it permanent through names, through beliefs. We've tried to impose the stories of the past on this fleeting now. But the past is merely thought, while existence is Presence. We cannot know the Mysterion, we must dance it.

When you look at the flower without naming its thing-ness, you engage in the original meditation. You are like Adam before he named the creatures in the Garden. Adam fell into a world of names, but we can be Eden-dwellers. We need only awaken. And the simplest frog-song or raindrop can awaken us.

Every particle of our being, every photon of this body, is an organ of perception. We can see again. Trillions of eyes sparkle in the heaven of our flesh. Where were you when you discovered that your body is made of stars? Remember...

Look again at this flower. The chaos of its edges dissolves into boundless fractals of your own awareness. The luminosity of this little blossom is not to be taken for granted. Named, it is Trillium rhomboideum grandiflorum. Un-named, it is the portal between heaven and earth.

Now imagine what you might behold when you muster the courage to look into a human face this way: the face of a homeless stranger, a wandering alien from another country, or the face of your enemy...

Can you gaze into those eyes without naming them, without saying, "This is a black child, this is a Muslim child, this child is wealthy, this child is poor?" Courage means that, when we look into the eyes of another, we settle for nothing less than the face of God.



At this very moment, the surface of your oceanic mind is a foam of thoughts, images, memories, each lasting but an instant. Yet beneath this bubbling mind-stuff is the sea of Silence - self-luminous, still, eternally awake in its own nature, which is perfect peace.
Lacking nothing, your depth is full. Full of what? Radiant emptiness. And when you express any form of this fullness, that least expression is the complete whole, the ocean in a drop. For only fullness can come from fullness, pressed out and overflowing, each particle a hologram.

Yet because the essence and substratum of each form is emptiness, whatever you express is lighter than air, scintillating and playful, with no weight, no need to last more than the instant of its birth.
There is nothing to call "mine," nothing to cling to, because you are perpetually ripe and sweet inside. You have always already fructified. You act not to attain a goal, possess a property, or fulfill a need, but simply to release the fragrance of your fruition.
This gently surging sea of contentment is who you truly are. And the great masters - Krishna, Elijah, Gautama, Jesus, Muhammad - are your elder brothers. You and they are born of the same Goddess, the mothering depth of eternal inner Silence. The masters came not to establish creeds, churches, or religions, but only to remind you of your true nature.
Therefor, there can be neither rivalry nor hierarchy in their Presence. Just take the hand of any one of them, your chosen Friend, and let him guide you gently back to yourself.
When? Why not now, this very morning? Why not come Om?

It is merely  the journey of a breath, taking no more than a heart beat. Then you can share your radiant emptiness with humanity. Isn't this why you are here?


Remember Me

"Lord, remember me when you come into your kingdom." (Luke 23:42)

"Remember Me and I will remember you."
(Qu'ran 2: 152)

When Jesus was crucified, a thief was crucified beside him. The thief prayed to Jesus in supplication, "Lord, remember me when you come into your kingdom." But the very Lord to whom he prayed was dying before his eyes.

He prayed, yet the object of his prayer was dissolving. This is not only faith, but meditation. As an icon to be worshiped, Jesus was disappearing. The object was abandoning the subject. And to that crisis of prayer, Jesus responded: "This very day you shall be with me in paradise."

When the subject who prays loses the object of prayer, where is paradise? Paradise is the very heart of emptiness.

One who worships the image of Jesus on the cross is a thief. The nature of a thief is to grasp, to possess what he cannot have. So we cling to the form of the Master. Just as thieves grasp coins and jewels, we grasp exquisite feelings and sensations, calling them "spiritual experiences." Like thieves, we live in deep poverty and long to fill ourselves with treasure.

But the treasure we seek lies in the very poverty of the subject, not in the form of the object. That is why Jesus said to his disciples, "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." (Mat. 5:3) They did not understand him. But the thief on the cross understands him.

Jesus turns to us on the cross of meditation, saying, "Do not grasp my image.
Do not worship my form. For this must pass away. As an object, I am crucified to you. As a subject, you are crucified to me. Yet this very day, this very Now, you are with me here, in the kingdom at the center of the cross. For I Am the very awareness of the one who seeks me."
Opposites dissolve at the center of the cross. In this crucified center, past and future, heaven and earth, I and Thou become One. Jesus kisses the thief. The kiss is imageless. And in the heart's awakened hollow, the thief finally knows the radiance of Christ.

It is duality itself that is crucified. "Remember me," said the dying thief, "when you come into your kingdom." But Jesus has already replied, "The kingdom of God is within you." (Luke 17:21)
Through the centuries, seekers have practiced remembrance of God in their daily work, trying to follow the injunction of St. Paul to "pray without ceasing." Likewise, the holy Qu'ran tells us to "remember Me and I will remember you": the Muslim invitation to practice ceaseless remembrance, or "Zikre."
In every religion, devout seekers try to practice remembrance while walking, traveling, engaging in daily business. This is a heroic but exhausting effort...

Trying to remember God in the market place divides our mind. Both our prayer and our work are distracted, each by the other. We become weak at prayer, and weak in our business. How can we avoid such distraction as we attempt to remember God in the midst of activity?

In Augustine's words, God is "intimior intimo meo," deeper inside me than I am to myself. Remembering God does not mean wrenching our attention away from this place or this daily task, toward an other who is above. Prayer need not be a long distance call.

God is always already within, not as an other, but as our core of silence. We meet that silence not by praying, but by listening. Listening becomes what it hears. Who do we become when we listen to the silence at our core?
Prayer is deep listening to the Silence at the core of this moment, wherever we are, whatever we are doing. When I listen to the core, I dissolve in my own heart. I am crucified as a separate ego, a grasping thief. And God as an object is crucified beside me. There are no longer two. There is only the kingdom: a silent radiance in the center of my soul.

Even in the market place, I can open my heart to the present moment just as it is, fearlessly welcoming the chaos without resistance, without the rebellious desire to be elsewhere.

Let the storm of Now crash over me. At the center of the storm, the core is ever silent: what Eliot called, "the still point of the turning world." To dwell in my own heart is to dwell in the heart of the world.

At the most essential level, remembrance of God is not a relationship of I and Thou, but a relationship of I and Am. When I rest in core silence, this little I surrenders to the vastness of the divine Am.

To surrender is to dissolve. Bhakti and Vedanta, devotion and unity, are the same path. Thus the Sanskrit verse of the Ashtavakra Gita, "Layam vraja: Dissolve now." And thus the true meaning of "Islam": the infinitive of the verb "Salam," to surrender.                                                         

Our core silence is not a dreary void or a lack of vitality, but vibrant openness, ever deepening, ever expanding. The expansive nature of emptiness is the dynamic of bliss, "ananda."

Nor is our core silence an "out of body experience," but an infusion of energizing consciousness into each cell, each atom of flesh, awakening our sacred hollow places.

Hollow is the eye, the throat, the beating heart, the lungs and belly. Did you ever wonder why Creator left a hollow at the core of creatures and their vital organs? Why we've been carved into flutes, wounded with openings?

Is it not to remind us of the secret chamber in our chest, the holy stillness at the center of the dancing stars? This is where Creator dwells in all of us. I can always enter that holy place, not by escaping, but by resting more fully in who I Am.

"When you pray," said Jesus, "go into your secret chamber, close the door, and pray to your father in secret." (Mat 6:6)  I pray "in secret" when I rest in my core silence. Christ's self-emptying on the cross (in Greek, his "kinosis"), removes his image from my thieving hand, so that I may discover his true likeness in the silence I Am.

His cross presents me with a radical choice: whether to worship God as idol or as spirit. By his crucifixion, Jesus calls me to renounce all dependence on religious forms. This means not only "idols of silver and gold," but images of thought, ideology, and belief - for they too are things.

The death of Jesus dissolves every icon into formlessness: the silence that was here before God said, "Let there be light." Yet his resurrection invites me into a wider expanse, a vastness I may only know by passing through the still point at the center of the cross: the ayin soph, the uncreated bindhu.

The center of the cross is not hidden or esoteric. It need not be sought. It is not to come in the future. Nor is it a salvific event in the past. The center of the cross is the kingdom of Presence.

Where else is there to go? "This very day, you shall be with Me in paradise."

Collage by Rashani Réa, from the book we did together called 'Shimmering Birthless.'

Beyond Belief

The nature of the Divine is such that no one who actually experiences the reality would entertain any sort of belief. Prayer arises only in separation from that Radiance. Actual taste of the Infinite annihilates language and consumes thought in the fire of naked awareness.

Without any theology whatsoever, one simply sings, not in words but in kirtan, fiery syllables of ecstasy: Om, Ah, Hum, Ma, Hrim, Shrim, Ram, Alla'hu!

Mantric sound vibrates and organizes darkness into light, prior to thought. Creation is not meaning but energy. What does a flower "mean"? What does a mountain "mean"? What does pain "mean"? The taste of honey on your tongue? The ever-expanding bliss of pure consciousness? Real meditation frees the mind from the tyranny of concepts.

The ecstatic one stops philosophizing and just starts humming. At the birth of time, this is all God did, and look what happened: She created the universe.



I once thought that silence was empty, and stillness was quiet. But by the grace of the Master's breath, I know now that silence is a billowing storm of joy, stillness a bursting flower.
The heart that touches the void violently blossoms in a revolution of gentleness that turns the universe inside out, spreading golden pollen throughout the stars.

This happens in the Body, not the mind, because primordial wonder annihilates thought. When no mind exists, the Body is the Spirit.

This is why, throughout the ages, souls bewildered by love gave up books of philosophy and gained enlightenment by smelling jasmine, touching a silken haired cat, or hearing that frog plop into a pond.

Now taste the wine of pure awareness.


The heart of God is not sentimental. To allow oneself to be breathed into that groundless chaos is subtraction, not surfeit.

Dying with Christ, Shiva's blade, pruning every branch and twig of the Life Tree, one enters the garden in Winter. The Absolute is not consolation, but perfection of loss. And loss teaches you everything.

A sublime and hollow grief that blossoms into pure compassion cannot be a matter of pride, for there is no one left to be proud of. Becoming God is supreme humiliation. In the New Testament, it is called kinosis, self-emptying (Phil 2:7).

Without a glimmer of holiness, the soul is unveiled as God is unveiled, until they are one and the nakedness. So the psalmist sings in Psalm 42, "Deep calleth unto deep."

Can you taste the color of brilliant silence? Can you hear lightning in the void?

This is a mystic's secret work: to return to her un-created core. To become so devoid of name and form that she cannot possibly be anyone else but the One who gives life to all creatures.

Mary Magdalene, by Carlo Sellitto, 1610

Christ's Teaching on the Breath

"The wind blows where it pleases. You hear its sound, but you do not know where it comes from or where it is going. So it is for everyone who is born of the spirit." (John 3:8)

If we carefully examine the details of this verse, we find that it contains Jesus' teaching on the breath as meditation.

Biblical Greek employs the same word for Breath, Wind, and Spirit. More than once, Jesus makes a wise pun on this Greek word, 'pneuma.'

The wind blows where it pleases. Your breath is moved by a mystery, not by your will. Simply noticing that your next inhalation is given, not taken, turns breathing into Grace. 

You hear its sound. Listening within, you sense a subliminal whisper in your breath, the sound that Elijah the Prophet called 'a subtle murmur of silence.' In Hebrew, this is 'qol daqah d'mamah.' 'Daqah' literally means 'finely ground or atomized.' The whisper Elijah heard was the vibration of the cosmos at the finest level of creation, where particles emerge from the vacuum. In Jewish mysticism, this sound of cosmic breath is the most holy name of God, יהוה , so sacred and interior that it cannot be pronounced aloud.

The first syllable of this Name is the inhalation, the second syllable the exhalation. These mantric syllables, 'Ya' and 'Hu,' both divine names in Hebrew mysticism, are also sacred seed-mantras in Islamic Sufism, Tibetan Buddhist meditation, and the Hindu tradition of Yoga.

Practicing what they called 'the Prayer of the Heart,' early Christian mystics found these same seed-syllables in the name of Jesus ('Jesu'), conjoining the Lord's name with their breathing to guide attention into the heart center. Their classic manual of prayer, the Philocalia, teaches that you may 'enter the heart by means of breathing: therefor, Let Jesus be your breath.' (Hesychius of Jerusalem, 5th C.)

The subtle sound that vibrates through the breath is the very Word of creation. 'In the beginning was the Word,' says the Gospel of John. This creative sound-energy is called 'shabda' in Sanskrit. A Vedic verse declares: 'Adau bhagavan shabda rasahih: In the beginning, the Lord manifested the creation through a current of sound.' Thus, like a tuning fork, the gentle sound of the divine Spirit in your own breath calls your Being back into harmony with creation's source.

But you do not know where it comes from or where it is going. The experience of creation's source is not a mere intellectual concept. This is not a philosophy, but a direct experience that conceptual thinking cannot fathom. Inhalation arises, but from where? Exhalation returns, but to where? Who is breathing you?

Though our intellect cannot grasp the abyss at the heart of creation, we taste its goodness in our breath: the absolute goodness called 'tova' in Hebrew. The refrain of the Biblical creation story is, 'God saw that it was good.' The goodness of 'tova' is no relative good, in relation to something bad. In the creation story there is nothing bad, no evil whatsoever. 'Tova' is unfathomable bliss, called 'ananda' in Sanskrit. Absolute bliss permeates every particle of creation with the goodness of God.

Thus Jesus teaches the ancient secret of the breath that we also find in the Yogic classic, Vijnana Bhairava: 'By resting awareness in the space of the heart, between the descending and ascending breaths, one experiences Bhairava, the source of creation.'

So it is for everyone who is born of the Spirit. Can we be born again, re-created through the power of the breath? As stated above, 'Spirit' also means 'breath' in the Bible. In truth, each breath we take recapitulates, in our most intimate microcosm, the cycle of cosmic creation and dissolution on the macrocosmic scale.
Breathing is death and rebirth, moment by moment. Breathing out, we abandon ourselves to dissolution in the void, merging in divine darkness, the silence that was there before God said, 'Let there be light.' When we have completely surrendered our exhalation, there is a moment of unbounded stillness before the next inhalation arises.

The point between breaths may seem momentary, but it contains eternity. This tiny dimensionless 'bindhu' ('dot' in Sanskrit) is the space where worlds are born. In Jewish mysticism it is called the 'ayin soph aur,' the point of no-thing from which light explodes into creation.
Between your exhalation and inhalation, between your inhalation and exhalation, a still spaceless dot of surrender enfolds the boundless ocean of divine energy. Here, the Spirit of God gently stirs the un-created waters of the void, an experience wonderfully described in the second verse of Genesis: 'The earth was formless and void, darkness was upon the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God hovered over the waters.'

What is the 'deep' ('tehom' in Hebrew)? Is it not the vibrant living vacuum described by quantum physicists, where all sub-atomic particles pre-exist as 'fluctuations' and 'probability waves' before they spill into material form?

Thus, by the grace of breathing and not by our own effort, a single exhalation carries us back to the source of creation, where we are 'in the beginning' with God. Then, from that ocean of living silence, the next inhalation arises as a gift. With each breath, we are created again. All that is required is to pay attention.


Through The Body

"Glorify God in your Body." ~1 Corinthians 6:20

When you get to heaven, you will meet many nice people and see many sweet things. But you will not find the light of God. Then you will ask, "Where is the light of God?"

And they will tell you, "Remember when you were on earth, and you had a body? Every particle of that body was made of the light of God."

And you will marvel and ask, "What shall I do?"

And they will answer, "Go back. Receive a body and meditate on the glory of your flesh. Realize the light you are."

Friend, you are not here on earth in exile from God. You are here because this is the only place to express the light completely. You are not here as a punishment. You chose this realm of chaos, this conflict of opposites, so that you could embrace all, All, ALL.

Meditation is not an out-of-body experience, but  a through-the-body experience. Your body is the portal to realms of glory.

Follow the scents. Smelling, tasting, hearing, touch, are sacred paths. Just as the senses lead outward to the wheel of karma, so they lead inward to the hub. Whirl on that Dervish-dot between breaths. T'shuva, turn, enter the sensuality of the soul, which is the flesh. 

Honor your body. Trust your body so deeply that your mind pervades each cell, permeates the interstellar space in an atom, pierces even to the glory at the core of a photon.

Why does the Word become flesh? So that you may come Om to your body.

Why does the Formless take birth in this form? To carry every dust-mote back to the silence that was here before God said, "Let there be light."

Why does Christ hang on the cross like a grape on the vine? To reveal the taste of the void on your tongue.

In the marrow of your bone, at the core of a star-forged proton, is a black hole containing all the information in the galaxy. Rest there.

Be washed in your own precious blood, every drop bejeweled in the eye of God. Your breath is the Holy Spirit. What shines from your gaze is the beauty of the next Avatar.



Hamsa means swan in Sanskrit. It also means, I am one with the Divine. 'Aham' (I am) 'So' (the Divine). Vedic literature declares that this two-syllable mantra is the subtle sound of breathing out and breathing in.
As we exhale, we pour 'I Am' into the ocean of Divine Love. As we inhale, we allow Divine Love to replenish us, to recreate each sparkling photon of this body. But lost in the sensory stupor of worldly distraction, we are not usually conscious of this subtle process. We have forfeited our birthright for a bowl of soup (Gen 25:31).
All we need to do is bring our awareness back to the dynamic meditation that is always already happening in each breath.
Just as striking two stones together generates a spark, so the gentle friction of in-breath and out-breath generates Shakti, the energy of divine love, divine healing, divine wisdom.
And just as a swan settles softly upon a lake, the Hamsa swan comes to repose in the heart's silence, unruffled by a single thought.
At the still-point where out-breath and in-breath kiss, the silence between 'Ham' and 'So,' there is a dimensionless space that seems so brief; yet this is the space where worlds are born. Suns and galaxies arise from the infinitesimal 'bindhu' in the heart. It is the same dot of infinity that the Jewish mystics called 'Ayin Soph Or,' the radiant spark of no-thing. Thus an ancient Yoga text, Vijnana Bhairava, declares:
'The supreme Goddess, whose nature is to create, constantly expresses herself as exhalation and inhalation. By resting awareness in the space of the heart, between the descending and ascending breaths, one experiences Bhairava, the source of creation.'
In Yogic tradition, the name of this heart space is 'Anahata,' meaning un-struck sound. The silence of the heart vibrates with the eternal music of the Vedas. And the mathematical resonance of this mantric music formulates the laws of physics that create the universe.
'Hamsa' is the inner dynamic of all meditation mantras. 'Mantra' indicates a vehicle that carries awareness back to its home. The word derives from 'mannas,' meaning mind, and 'tra,' meaning vehicle: whence the suffix 'tron,' as in electron, a vehicle for electricity. Thus a mantra is a vehicle for the mind.

Where is the mind going? What location is it seeking? The mind is ever restless till it finds its home, which is the silent radiance of the heart.
When the Guru gives the precious gift of mantra to the devotee, the mantra effortlessly transports the swan of awareness on wings of grace to the quiet lake of the heart. All true mantras settle into waves of Hamsa-Soham, dissolving in the silent pulse of Absolute Being, where breath becomes still.
In this communion, meditation fulfills the Biblical injunction to 'be still and know that I Am God' (Psalm 46:10). This is neither a belief nor a theology, but a direct experience, the living silence where we pass beyond thought into Gnosis and 'know that I Am God: Aham So.'
Deeper than mind is the thundering ocean of the un-created light of silence. This is the light that shines from divine darkness. This is the silence that was here before God said, 'Let there be light.' Simply to witness this light shining from the depths of our own heart sends beams of beauty and waves of healing throughout the cosmos.
We meditate not for ourselves alone, but to re-create the world.


Sacraments of Sensation

I wrote this little mindfulness manual in 2006. Just rediscovered it,
and it feels even more relevant today. Sharing...

"Eternity was in our lips and eyes..." (Shakespeare)

"Those who gained enlightenment by seeing blossoms or hearing sounds, achieved it through the body." (Dogen, Father of Zen)

These are practices of wonder. Wonder is the one mode of consciousness which computer and nanno technology will never fathom or imitate. I offer these teachings for the healing of the earth, through the reunion of the Spirit and the Body. These practices do not take you above or beyond your body and its sensations. They consecrate the body, the ear, eye and skin. They make a sacrament of sensation. "Taste and see that the Lord is good!" (Psalm 34:8)

Do not romanticize these practices. You don't need a tropical island or a mountain shrine. You are called to attend the stark and the ordinary: a crow on a withered branch, a chimney against the clouds. When you bathe your perception in a breath of compassion and steep it in mere awareness, you open a window between God and creation, through which world-healing powers flow. You are the window.

Use these practices even in the work place to save the mind from fragmentation: the stress caused by information-overload and multi-tasking. "Salvation" means nothing if we cannot save our own awareness. These practices are designed to re-collect your energy and re-connect you to your core-silence. They are momentary Sabbaths. In Hebrew, the word Sabbath does not mean a day of the week; it means, "stop." Do you have the courage to stop rushing into the future and open your heart to what Is?

Do not practice these meditations all day: only for moments, as short bursts of refreshment, expansion, and cleansing. The practices prepare you for sharper focus and on-task clarity as your intellect returns to work. But during the practice itself, the intellect remains at rest, simply witnessing phenomena without analyzing them...


Close your eyes and listen to the faintest furthest sound you can hear. A fruitful time for this practice is early in the morning, as you are waking from sleep and birds are beginning to sing. Let your attention expand to the horizon of hearing. Let the faintest sound's vanishing lead you into deeper silence. Continue to listen in silence. Let each sound that arises be an invitation to the silence that follows it. You cannot be anywhere else but here when you truly listen. In pure listening, past and future vanish. Listening brings you to Presence.


Go outside during a break from work, even if you are in the middle of a city. If you can't go outside, just sit by a window. Look at the sky. Find a patch of blue. Look deeply into the blue of the sky until your eyes gaze beyond the vanishing point. You are gazing at infinity. Your eyes will unfocus and relax. They will focus on no-thing. This relaxes many muscles in your face. Breathe in, then follow your exhalation out through your eyes toward the infinite depth of blue. After a few breaths, close your eyes and experience this same vastness inside you.


In a gathered meditation circle, I do this exercise with grapes. Jesus did it with bread and wine. You can do it with any fresh natural food. Even a sip of water can be magic.

Hold the grape in your hand and look at it carefully. Notice every detail. If this grape were placed in a bowl with a hundred other grapes, what would you look for to recognize this particular grape? Now look even more deeply into the grape. It's liquid contains the rain, the clouds, the sky that watered it. It's skin and meat contain the minerals of the earth. Many trees and flowers and animals have died and returned to the loam to form the nutrients in this grape. The fire of the sun sparkles inside this grape, photons of light from the stars. This grape contains all the elements: earth, water, fire, sky. This grape is full of death and rebirth.

This grape contains humanity too. Many human hands have touched it: hands of laborers, packers, shippers and grocery store clerks. The juice of this grape runs with human toil and tears. The soft meat of this grape is woven from the web of commerce, stretched across a continent to bring you sweetness. Noticing all this is prayer: grace unspoken.

Lift the grape to your nostrils and smell it. Now hold this grape in your palm and honor its gaze. Eat. Taste. Pure wordless sensation, without the label, "grape." Swallow.

Sit quietly and observe sensations in the mouth and tongue, the bouquet blossoming and fading like the colors in a sunset. Follow these flavors and sensations until they dissolve into Presence, into the silence of Being without desire.

The Window of Personhood

You are bringing Spirit into Matter. In the moment of sensation, as the external object enters your senses, your consciousness flows out to meet it, blessing and infusing its material energy with radiance. What if the object of your sensation is not a grape, but a person?

The dynamics of the following process are precisely the same as the dynamics of meditation. You are meditating upon the presence of a person, in the midst of relationship, just as you would meditate upon your own breath, or the face of God in your heart.

There are two aspects to classic Buddhist meditation, called "samatha" (stillness) and "vipassana" (insight). In the Christian tradition these are called "recollection" and "union." First, your awareness becomes empty and free of monologue. You are silently focused on the object of meditation. Secondly, your consciousness penetrates into the object, merging with its energy and essence.

Face to face with the mystery of another human being, rest in silence. Spend a few breaths gazing into the eyes of the other, breathing her into your heart. I mean this literally. Breathe in your partner’s face, placing your attention in the region of your heart as you gaze into those eyes. Inhale their pain, their weariness, their sorrow. Soon you will see the little child beneath the lines of anguish in that face. Breathe in the child. Gaze upon that face as you would gaze upon a flower, just as it is, without judgment, without the slightest motive to change or improve.

Now as your exhale, breathe out a wave of compassion and healing. You need not try to feel it. Compassion arises as the gift of emptiness.

As you gaze into her eyes, do not resist the movement out of yourself, into them. Have courage: surrender to your flow into the depths of the other. You will dissolve into the silence, the stillness, at the core of her being. And you will become gently disoriented: for this is the very core of your own being also!

In this moment of pure dissolving, you in relationship, yet beyond relationship. You meditate upon that Being who is both Self and Other. You can"love thy neighbor as thyself," for the other IS your self. This meditation on the heart of relationship will transform both of you into one radiance.

Do this even with a difficult relationship: in the home, on the street corner, or in a business meeting. In a troubled relationship, we usually protect our heart by withdrawing into our head, the artificial world of mind. We construct a gray parallel world of thought, where there is safety in merely commenting on the real world, instead of living in it. Then consciousness gets stuck inside us and cannot flow out into the other.

Feel that stuck-ness. Feel it as a sensation burning and scraping all through your body. You really don't need to think about what you will say, or what the other person says. The “meaning” of the words is quite superficial: it will change according to our emotional state. It is only an interpretation. The words are theirs, but the hearing is ours.

So just for a few moments, it is more fruitful to let go of thoughts and words, and silently observe the other’s face. Abandon your own agenda and be empty. Gaze into the other's eyes, breathing in, breathing out. Observe fear rising in your heart. Just to observe that fear is courage. Then fear dissolves into energy, energy dissolves into calm, and calm gives rise to compassion. In this moment of acceptance, the other's demeanor will soften.

If that person continues to be tense, you can soften the space around them. Let your primary focus shift to the space around their body. No matter how agitated the person is, the space around them is still. Artists call this negative space. Allow your awareness to expand and enfold the other’s body. Infused with your transparency, that space grows soft and quiet. The enfolding cloud of your awareness will penetrate that person's mind and body. Enjoy this practice even with your "enemy." This is secret silent work. You don’t have to let the other know you are doing it.

Thich Nath Hanh once said, “We practice deep listening, compassionate listening, in order to relieve suffering. We don’t listen in order to judge, to blame, to argue: we just listen with all our heart, because we know that the fact of mere listening can bring about transformation and healing.... Compassionate listening is what we desperately need in our world.”

Touching the Sun

You've been working inside, staring at your computer for many hours. Perhaps you've had days and days of gray weather with no sunlight. Then the sun comes out. Is this not grace? Is this not a sacrament? How will you celebrate?

All of your energy comes from the sun. Your food is energized by photons of sunlight. Whatever you use for fuel, its warmth and fire originate in the sun. When you feel depleted, you can use this sunny day to re-energize. I write this on the first day of Spring, 2006, twenty minutes from the vernal equinox!

Go outside. If you can't go out, open the window and stand in the sunlight. Close your eyes and agree to be completely here in your body. Be aware of your breath-body, each breath filling you from the soles of your feet up to your eyeballs. Absorb the radiance dancing through your eyelids, the sun's energy bombarding your nerves with billions of photons. You can "see" this even though your eyes are closed, because the sun's energy will stimulate your optic nerve through the skin. There is nothing esoteric about this, nothing to imagine.

Using your inhalation as a vehicle for the sunlight, breathe the solar fire in through your forehead. This will cleanse and tune the pineal gland and you can feel the energizing tingle in every cell of your brain. Breathe this stream of sunlight down through your lungs, to your heart and solar plexus. It will irradiate your internal organs and nourish every cell in your body.

Exhale through your solar plexus, offering the stream of fire back to the sun. Breathe deeply and slowly, luxuriating in each breath of light. Do it seven times. Seven circles of sunlight in to your forehead and out through your belly. Afterward, spend a few minutes sitting in silence, merged with the sun in your body. Or if you are outside, take a walk, greeting and warming the earth with every footstep.

Touching the Planet

"Nowadays people breath through their nostrils. In ancient times, the masters breathed through the soles of their feet." ~Earliest Chinese text on Tai Chi

Your skin is an organ, the largest organ in your body. When we speak of touching, we usually wait for something or someone to press our skin. We are not used to being in constant touch with the air, the sun, the moisture around us. Some of us are so de-sensitized and numb, we can't even feel the ground when we walk on the earth. A great Buddhist teacher, Thich Nat Hanh, said that the real miracle is not to walk on water, but to walk on the earth. Sioux Indian sage, Black Elk, gave us this advice: "Let every step you take upon the earth be as a prayer."

Go outside in the hour before dawn, or early in the day when the grass is still wet with dew. Take off your shoes. Stand with eyes closed in the cool grass and breath. Don't just breathe through your nose. Imagine that you are breathing through the soles of your feet. Let the breath of the earth flow up into your legs, hips and belly. As you exhale, release the pent-up tensions in your muscles. Feel the release from your face down to your ankles. Watch the tension discharge into the ground. It makes good manure.

Exhale stale thoughts and worries of yesterday. Pour them into the wet grass. Breathing yesterday out, right down into your feet, let the touch of the earth and the sting of the dew awaken today. This is the only day. This is the only world. Why not stand in dignity, without trying to be anywhere else?
Become aware of the bottoms of your feet and the touch of the ground. Imagine your feet taking root, your roots penetrating to the center of the earth, chords of conscious energy. Breathe in and out through these roots.

Now open your eyes and begin to walk slowly, barefoot in the wet grass, with your attention in the soles of your feet. Very slowly, walk without destination. Walk without a goal. Walk just to taste your body moving, drinking the milk of space. Today is enough. Has it ever occurred to you that the purpose of life is just To Be? If we are truly alive, truly walking, we need no other purpose. We are pilgrims ever-arriving in the temple of Presence.

Feel every sensation as one foot lightens and lifts into the cool air, the other foot pressing into the grass to gradually receive the sacred weight of your body. Feel the foot widen to hold the earth like a hand. Feel your weight roll from the heel toward the ball of the foot. Feel your toes gently grasp the earth, one last caress, as the foot leaves the ground. Walk like this for three minutes, that's all. It’s not meant to be a rigorous discipline, but a respite of wonder. Be a toddler just learning the dignity of walking on this earth. You will feel grounded and whole for the rest of the day.


"Breathing in with the whole body, breathing out with the whole body.”
~Buddha, Satipatthana Sutra

Breathing is the purest prayer. In awareness of breath, we dissolve the gap between mind and body, heaven and earth, the ideal and the real.

If you sat back from your desk at the office and practiced the following exercise for three minutes, giving yourself to it 100%, you would be re-energized, relaxed, and re-newed for several hours.

A common expression is: "Stop and take a breather." But we seldom actually do. We stop to gossip at the water cooler. We stop to douse our nerves with caffeine. We go to the gym and work our breath into a heavy pant. But have you ever actually stopped to breathe, noticing the feathery touch of air in your nostrils and throat? Noticing breath descend into your chest, expanding the rib cage in slow majesty? Have you allowed warm breath to bathe your heart? Have you let breath swell the belly and abdomen muscles, drawing awareness right down to your sit-bone, grounding you to the earth?

Then, exhaling, have you consciously felt the gentle contraction of those abdomenal muscles, watching the breath flow up the torso into the throat? Have you become aware of your jaw and cheeks and tongue relaxing into the face you had when you were a child?

Have you noticed your nostrils quiver to attention like the nostrils of a deer? Have you watched breath rise and dissolve like a wisp of smoke in your forehead, leaving awareness free from the chatter of thoughts? Have you offered your exhalation through the baby’s soft spot in your crown, and poured yourself gently back into the sky?

Now, at the end of the exhalation, in the moment between this breath and next, surrender. Merge your attention in the silence between exhalation and inhalation. Abandon the little "me" that is merely a thought. Dare to be no one, just for a moment, and become the boundless sky.

Boundlessness is the gift of every exhalation, as one breath dies into the birth of the next. Your breath can teach you to dissolve your entire history, and to be reborn. As scripture says, "All that matters is to be created afresh!" Every breath is the new creation.

Now observe who is breathing... Are you breathing? Or is the Almighty breathing you? Breath is a gift, is it not? A gift given without your slightest effort. To witness your  inhalation is the revelation of Grace. What is your response to Grace? Just offer it back: exhale. That’s all you can do. Each breath is the whole story of salvation: God's gift, your response. To breathe is prayer.

Transcendental Meditation and the Wayless

Hard for me to believe that I was initiated into Transcendental Meditation 48 years ago. I continue to cherish Maharishi's gift, and I want to share a few words as to why I still meditate in such a simple way, every morning and evening...

Because over the years many have confused the simple with the shallow, the effortless with the trivial, and quitting this beautiful meditation technique in search of something "deeper," when in fact simplicity is the ground-state of all possibilities, and miracles only arise in the field of the effortless.
Transcendental Meditation is so easy it is hard, so innocent it seems nothing. But the most innocent is the deepest, the deepest is the softest, and the softest teaches the hardest truth, shattering the ego.

As awareness settles into subtler fields of meditation, there are worlds of devotional love to play in. They can distract us for lifetimes, taking us to the realms of devas and gods: soft lights, pulsations of love in the heart, enticing sensations in the chakras, brilliant insights on which the intellect can pride itself.

One might see the luminous countenance of the guru, Jesus, Krishna or the Goddess. At this point, many are attracted by other paths, other spiritual techniques that promise celestial encounters with angels or "ascended masters."

Yet precisely at this stage of meditation one must remember the instruction to leave all sensation, all thought behind, returning to the effortless grace of the mantra, whose nature is self-emptiness.

Become nought. Become silence. Transcend every experience, even the experience of heaven. Become the subject naked of every object, awareness without concept. Be without a being. Here, in the flash of luminous darkness, is the unity beyond I and Thou.

This meditation actually follows the model of Jesus's kinosis, described in one of the earliest passages of the New Testament, the primitive Christian hymn quoted by Paul in Philippians, chapter 2. "Christ emptied himself" to become human. And when he was totally empty, even "unto death," he became God. The rarely used Greek word is kinosis: self-emptying. People who have studied Buddhism will recognize this as anatta - no self. Vedantists will recognize it as neti neti - not this and not that. Christian mystics called it the via negativa - the negative way.

The heart of God is not sentimental. To allow oneself to be breathed into the groundless centerless chaos prior to creation, is not addition but subtraction. Dying with Christ. Shiva's blade, pruning every branch and twig of the Life Tree. One enters this garden in Winter. The Absolute is not a consolation, but a perfection of loss. And loss teaches you everything.

Sublime and hollow grief that blossoms into pure compassion cannot be a matter of pride, for there is no one left to be proud of. Becoming God is supreme humiliation.

Without a glimmer of holiness, the soul is unveiled as God is unveiled, until they are the same nakedness. So the psalmist sings in Psalm 42, "Depth crieth unto depth." Can you taste the color of brilliant silence? Can you hear a thunder in the void?

Devotion dissolves in the abyss beyond love. This place has nothing to do with heaven, or any mythological fantasy of salvation, which is but the wish of a childish mind. In transcendental deep meditation, the soul enters something quite different from a "religious" condition, or a "relationship" with the Lord. For here there is no possibility of an Other. The Lord is nothing more or less than pure Presence.

Which is why, upon tasting this depth even for an instant, many seekers abandon Transcendental Meditation to seek a path more colorful, fanciful and dreamy, with soft images, wooing words, someone in white robes to bow down to. Having touched bottom, they want to return to the surface, where the waves and bubbles are. Only the soul who can stay in the depths without breathing knows the exhalation of eternity: stillness trembling with time's mirage.

In this eternal breath, the soul must fast from joy and sorrow, being and non-being, I and Thou. Her path is neither an ascent nor a descent, but a fall into un-faceted onyx, the darkest jewel. Here she finds true rest in an inward solidity that makes mist of the world. Here the most abstract consciousness becomes more solid than diamond, compared to which the world of forms is a mirage.

And if the soul has the courage to repose here, in the adamant depths of her own silence, she no longer worships a creator, for she herself has become the abysmal fountain of the world.

This is a meditator's secret work: to become at the core un-created, so devoid of name or form that you cannot possibly be anyone else but the One who gives life to all creatures.


Listen to the wild
silence of your open heart
or you'll miss the Spring.
Today, just for an hour, let's give each other permission not to be outraged. Permission not to react, but to respond. Permission not to trigger each others anger, but to polish one another with forgiveness. A gracious light is always pouring from the heart. Indignation often blinds it. The world can survive for an hour without indignation, but it can't survive without your light.

Photo by Kristy Thompson
Collage of my verse by Rashani Réa