The you in me bows to the me in you, and we melt into who we are; this is called "laughing eyes."
Why did God become flesh, walking down dusty village roads, touching, blessing the children?
So that we might say, "Thank you for being born, Jesus. "
Why do we return to the fur?
So that we might say, "Thank you for being born, little golden poodle."
And when there are no words for wonder, why does the Self-luminous choose to gaze and hug?
Don't underestimate the glory of otherness; thank you, whoever you are, for being born into this voluptuous mud!
A neo-advaitist said to me, "You need no guru because you are already perfect."
So I went there and became vast, proud, boundless, lonely and dry.
But still, some primal yearning of the heart for the heart tugged at the stars, and I heard the moon weeping for the sun...
and besides, his workshops were more expensive than Church.
The fallacy of that teaching lies in the word "need;" I do not surrender to my master out of lack, but overflowing fullness,
every cell of this body like a silver cup filled to the brim with the stuff Christ served at the wedding.
The master has turned what for you might just be water into something that makes me drunk
because my freedom is love, my freedom is love...
Now, Gurudev, let our twoness be a single spiraling stream of nectar, pouring from that cup into this one.
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