Flow Down

The energy flows down, not up. Haven't we always been taught by our religious traditions to seek what is "above"? That was then, this is now. Now we flow down.

Our breath invites the stars, with all the intergalactic space that enfolds them, down into this body, so that the sky can make love to the ground.

We are not here to transcend Matter, but to impregnate earth with the breath of the Spirit, infusing the energy of Mother Shakti with the consciousness of Lord Shiva, so they may dance as one, the formless in form. This is true in-form-ation.

Each inhalation fills us with the sky. Each exhalation pours stars into the mother-ground. Your body is the bridge between Heaven and Earth. Your breath is the life-line between Creator and Creation. Honor your body. Honor each breath.

Sabbath Now

 

In the trough between two heartbeats is boundless wealth, abundant healing, and perfect unity. The space between out-breath and in-breath is where stars and galaxies are born.

The stillness whence the cosmos arises is nearer than the mind, humbly folded in the sacred rhythms of our body, where breath caresses breath, and one chamber of the heart pours love into the other.

When you let go of worry, gossip, mental chatter, and sink into the sacred well of silence here, beneath your breastbone, you honor the Sabbath; you regenerate the world. This morning, even for a little while, repose in who you are.

Painting: Shabbat Queen by Elena Kotliarker

The Gift of Pain

It is the way we learn to carry the secret pain we have each been given, not the way we try to get rid of it... the way we learn to embrace, and in embracing, to transform the secret pain we have each been given, not the way we attempt to deny it... the way we learn to honor the secret pain we have each been given, not the way we blame it on others... that determines our capacity for Joy.

Ananda Bhav: Bliss of Mere Existence

"Existence is bliss." ~Maharishi Mahesh Yogi

Just to Exist is a miracle! We can savor and see the miracle of Existence, not with the faculty of taste or sight, but with the faculty of pure awareness.

We wake to the miracle of Existence each morning, we bathe in the miracle all day, and we fall into the miracle when we sleep, yet we don't notice the diamond transparency of the all-embracing hug of Divine Mother. Like the fish taking the sea for granted, we seldom appreciate the wealth in which we are immersed. We don't see That because we are That.

The miracle is not just the soul, it is the body. Existence pervades each cell of my flesh, and fills each atom with the boundless space that contains the stars.

There is nothing esoteric about "enlightenment." Esoteric means "hidden." But enlightenment is just the opposite of esoteric. Enlightenment perceives the miracle of pure Existence as the most concrete reality, even more concrete than things which exist. Pure Existence shifts from background to foreground. Then I appreciate the Existence of the object even before I perceive the object. This means that I bathe in the miraculous, no matter what temporary material form it may take.

Normally, perception is so overshadowed by thing-ness, that one doesn't perceive the thing-less field of Being from which things emerge, and into which they dissolve, like clouds in the sky. So one adopts the false assumption that perfection and abundance must be elsewhere. We THINK we need to take a journey to find the infinite Existence we already are. And it is this very thinking that prevents us from arriving right here.

If we are humble enough to honor the divine Existence in a fallen leaf, a raindrop, a pebble in a stream, a stray dog, or a human face, why not take one step deeper into humility, and honor divine Existence as our very Self?

In The Palace

That which was in the beginning, that from which the universe sprang, that which is most ancient and primordial, bubbles up from the hollow core of the present moment.

To taste, to feel, to become intoxicated by this vintage while incarnate in the body, is why we are here.

Those whose transcendental goal is to abandon this corporeal form merely postpone their destiny. We come back into these hands and feet, this tongue, these eyes again and again, not to do penance or be tested by temptation, nor to "overcome" the flesh, but to embody infinite joy, and press out the nectar of love. Darkness nurtures this work of incarnation as surely as light...

Look around you. Scent all-pervading possibility. Touch the living creature by your side and pour your sparkling wine into the night.
 
Drink to your health. Drink it all. You are not traveling any path. You are dancing in the palace. 

Art by Andrew Gonzalez

Jesus Claps His Hands

It saddens me to see a Crazy Good Luck Bodhisattva  capitalizing on his Gift, his Wonder-spark, taking enlightenment public on the Dow-Jones, marketing awareness, as if the pure white light of the Void were a commodity, or an SAT score.

Enlightenment is the sister of Spontaneity, and cannot be cultivated. God is unprogrammed. The Grace-happening will not be systematized. It is like selling the sea in bottles. In a bottle, it is not the sea.

Absurd and gawky as a dandelion, Buddha blossoms from the ground of Silence, fertilized by the dung of bliss-energy deposited by an untamed Presence who wanders up and down the food chain like a hungry lion.

No effort of intellect can capture the Tathagata. Names and labels only cage the past, but the foolishness of Now is wild. When the mind attempts to understand suchness, Love evaporates. All that remains is the authority of thought.

But all authority is illusion, and thought is a ghost. There is only God's crazy amazement, the sky miraged in a shiver of Self-reflection.

Thus does Jesus clap his hands, and the storm ceases. Thus does the Son of Man smear spittle and mud on the blind man's eye, restoring sight. Thus the Avatar of Loss and Unknowing distributes a little basket of bread, feeding thousands of hungry bellies.

Ask the Lord to teach you these techniques and he will say, "I have no idea what I am doing, or why. Existence compels me to play and take delightful risks. Why don't you come wandering with me? Wandering is love without destination.”

Upon hearing this, his followers demand an accounting. They insist upon a doctrine, a ritual, a Church. He refuses. They crucify him.

Then, in his name, they invent their own religion of insatiable desire.

Autumn

Every raindrop
a gift from the earth, lifted
and blessed by the sun....

Ask a Child to Point to the Heart

Ask a child to point to the heart. Ask a Zen master to point to the heart. Ask an indigenous shaman to point to the heart. They will point... to the heart. 

This bloody fruit at the center of the body: they will point to this! For those thirst for life, heart means heart. The heart’s beauty lies in its physiology, not in its metaphysics.

Your heart a red pump, meaty twin-chambered dualist muscle of diastole, systole, in, out, rough shuddering blast site of anxiety and yearning, rage and unspeakable sorrow, well of tears in the desolation of love.

Heart a cosmos of atoms in the darkest cavern of your sobbing ribs, crimson resonance of electro-magnetism, syncopated vibration of very Matter, a field outdistancing its cruciform, yet deeply embodied in your sacred weight.

Heart a locus where all other hearts conspire to be your heart, a hologram among your bones, mingling rays of inter-planetary information through the vacuum in each pulse.

Heart the sinew and neurology of Light, portal to the first Word, embryonic Sun, floating in sea womb of lymph and marrow.

Organ of mere blood, the rainbow spectrum of whose power is rooted in gravity, yet widens into the white empyrean, beyond the elements, ringing as music in a quintessential unstruck bell, chiming every proton out of its star.

This sacrament, this hungering love, this opening wound, your heart…

The Passion

Above all, the world needs passionate people: not people who are passionate about this political cause or that religious teaching, this candidate or that guru, this project or that movement, but passionate about Being, about Awakening, about this very Breath, this miraculous gaze into the eyes of a Friend. The only power that will not fade, will not be exhausted or shadowed by doubt, is passion for Presence itself. It is the Serpent Fire in your spine, the Beloved in your heart, the Dancer who whirls a double helix of stars out of your silence. This is the passion that will transform the earth.

Seva Smile

One way to perform great Seva, great service to humanity, is to be happy right now for no reason, and smile authentically from your heart.

Easy Hard

Life is easy and full of sweetness. Life is hard and full of bitter pain. Both statements are perfectly true, and we make them simultaneously with integrity. When we embrace this paradox in every cell of our body, with no resistance, then our life is liberated, and full of grace.

Our experience is sweet, and our experience is bitter, but there is no conflict, no choice. Sweet and bitter are waves of the same energy. We cannot taste grace as long as we seek the light and flee from the dark, cling to the sweet and reject the bitter. Grace only vibrates when life is undivided. Grace only hugs wholeness.