Don't transcend the body,
transcend the mind.
The mind that wants to be
somewhere else,
in the past or future.
The mind that wants to be
separate, certain, correct.
When we transcend the mind
we don't go anywhere.
We arrive right here, in the body.
We don't mind the mess,
the incorrectness,
seeing clearly that the sky
fills each cell,
feeling stars fall through
the marrow of our bones,
welcoming mountains and clouds
into a synapse of bewilderment,
knowing without a thought
that each photon of our flesh
was breathed by Buddha
and passed like a kiss
to a wound in Jesus.
Now I am dust in a sunbeam.
What are you?
Artist: Rimi Yang
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