O Student of Astonishment, you are not your intellect, you are not your memory, you are not your will. These are but three veils on a paper lantern. You shine beyond within.
Truth is not a concept. Truth is not an answer. Truth is the Seed whose hollow is unbounded. No thought will lead you there, only a surrender in your chest.
Don't be a star, be night itself. Darkness mothers everything bright. Be that womb.
The dignity of your mind is not the accumulation of knowledge, but the sparkling of emptiness. Instead of being certain, be a window.
Polish your intellect like crystal with the soft cloth of this inhalation, this exhalation, until you can see through the transparency that once was clouded by concepts.
The sun of your heart appears in the awakened sky.
O Student of Beauty, nothing is attained by seeking. If you want to find what you were looking for, get lost in the wild garden of amazement.
In heaven you were filled with a terrible longing. On earth your longing is fulfilled.
By the grace of the one whose fragrance allures you to a most auspicious drowning, suffer the sweet catastrophe of Now.
Carry her secret name on the wings of breathing. Make honey from the nectar of invisible love.
Angels cling to themselves, jealous of your courage. They yearn for this birth, where everything pulsates with life and death, and the rhythms of your annihilation feed the world.