Uradiance

The final apocalypse has already happened. It happened a moment ago, in your exhalation.  The final apocalypse  is happening now, a sunbeam shattered through the prism of a dragonfly’s wing, scattering colors on a still pond. The world is ever-dissolving into the tranquility of chaos.  All that exists is a glorious explosion of free energy, which is love, with no boundary, no cause, no story to tell, no past to regret or future to fear. You cannot comprehend it, but you can dance with it. Whoever groks this is happy, free from the burden of hope and the need to attain.  You cannot change what is happening now. But you can change how you see it. And how you see it has a great deal to do with what happens in your future. Just don’t get caught in the grand illusion that there is a System. Until now you have lived in the luxurious illusion that there is a System on which you can blame your frustrations. Now is the time to blink away the mirage and see through it. Even t...

  By dawn, the wind had fled, leaving a ruffle of  night-weary Canada geese in the wetland. Pearls of moss on stone. Jagged bolts of dogwood etched softy in the sky. Plum buds releasing their grip on themselves. A silent white boat drifting over me. Is it the same moon that floated over grandmother’s garden before I learned to measure  months and years? Child (I say to myself) it is never the same moon. It is never the same mind. When the heart is free from thought, I hear the burst of onion-scented snow drops. Nothing urgent in the conversation of tree frogs. All they mean to say is a thousand good mornings. I sip the green tea of What Is, mindful of the ever unfolding moment whose trembling we call time. Some causeless force distills my senses into healing tears, pure love’s transparency, a love not of or for, staining the empty silk-screen of awareness with this wabi-sabi world suspended in Spring mist. ...

Again I say, this is the time of the great shaking. One of the terrible blessings of Kali Yug is that what may be shaken falls away, so that what cannot be shaken may remain. Our personality is shaken. Our emotions, minds, and bodies are shaken. Now, thrown back into what is never shaken, we drink from the unquenchable wellspring of pure consciousness. Tapping the nectar of hridayam, the silence of our heart's core, from there we sing the causeless music of the unstruck bell. This is not a time of crisis, but opportunity: an invitation to distinguish the changing from the unchanging. Our spiritual journey is not to rise, but to fall. And fall not far. Simply descend through a breath of Grace from the mind to the heart. Let the Friend guide you to the hidden treasure of your Self. We do not discover the Self in the angst of division and blame, but in the fragrance of unity. The scent of this flower is uniquely your own. Yet in your trembling core of stillness is the wedding of Shiva...